The Northern Clemency
Oh omniscient narrator, it’s you I miss
From the modern novel. The modesty
Of unreliable first-person, Booker-list
Slims is misplaced. Disingenuously,
They claim they have nothing concrete
To say. Tell that to trees, to bank accounts,
To time. Will you please honestly speak.
Stop playing lit. games. Purge & rage & shout.
You make a brief show here, to foreshadow
& colour this Sheffield saga, but largely
We’re free indirect, close to the marrow
Of multiple members of two families,
Which makes for a compelling well-told tale,
But one that requires a voice matched to scale.