Fragmented and Dreamlike
The narration of Pedro Páramo is all sorts of broken up. It jumps from one narrator to another, one place to another, one time to another, and back again. If you don't pay attention, it'll leave you in the dust.
Take this transition, for instance. In Section 8 we're going along our merry way, finally having figured out that the new narrator is a young Pedro Páramo, when suddenly, in Section 9, we get: "Oh, yes, I was nearly your mother. She never told you anything about it?" (9.1). And, without any warning, we're back smack dab in the middle of the conversation between Juan Preciado and Eduviges we'd left all the way back in Section 5.
And if that weren't enough to get you feeling kind of woozy, the dreamy style of the narration will definitely get your head spinning. Check it out:
It was as if time had turned backward. Once again I saw the star nestling close to the moon. Scattering clouds. Flocks of thrushes. And suddenly, bright afternoon light. (32.1)
This kind of narration helps put the "magical" in Magical Realism. Sometimes we're tempted to scream "C'mon, Juan Rolfo! Help us out here! This novel is tough." But then we read a sentence like the one above and we're so bowled over with its beauty that we forgive him.