While this is over the top, it does speak to what I love in English Prose and what I seek out when reading books. I think Rule #9 is my favourite:
While this is over the top, it does speak to what I love in English Prose and what I seek out when reading books. I think Rule #9 is my favourite:
Never squander an opportunity for verbal cleverness. I once related in print the notorious tale of Schopenhauer throwing an old washerwoman down a flight of stairs, describing him at one point as seizing her by her “wizened weasand.” Self-indulgent, no doubt, but such moments as those make one feel that one has lived to a purpose.
I don't think I'll be reading much of this author's writing. I do love English as a language, for the same reasons too. You could hardly design a language as incoherent that people would actually...
I don't think I'll be reading much of this author's writing. I do love English as a language, for the same reasons too. You could hardly design a language as incoherent that people would actually use, but biology has taught us that evolution optimises for just good enough. Languages evolve, as is acknowledged, adored, then scorned in the same essay. The author's need to use precisely the right word for a situation dictates most of it, much to the dismay of their editor (as admitted directly in the piece). They seem to be at peace with this, for which I congratulate them. It's clear they're a better writer than I.
I liked that the motivation for the rules were plainly present. Some were just "other person is wrong", which I find the least compelling form of justification in the entire thing and it's unfortunate that it takes the better part of 17 rules to get past that, only for your eyes to be caught in the brambles of #18's presentation. In charcoal-grey it's trying to say "just use the big words when you want to", but it's instead written in purple so sumptuous that it's outside the gamut of human vision and I can't perceive the colour anymore. Or anything else for that matter.
The next one's good, though, and the one that I tell anyone who sends me writing to review. It's just good, clear advice.
Always read what you have written aloud. No matter how elaborate your prose, it must flow; it must feel genuinely continuous. This is not to say one must imitate natural speech; it is only to say that one must try to capture its rhythms. If what you have written is awkward on your tongue, then it is awkward on the page.
While this is over the top, it does speak to what I love in English Prose and what I seek out when reading books. I think Rule #9 is my favourite:
I don't think I'll be reading much of this author's writing. I do love English as a language, for the same reasons too. You could hardly design a language as incoherent that people would actually use, but biology has taught us that evolution optimises for just good enough. Languages evolve, as is acknowledged, adored, then scorned in the same essay. The author's need to use precisely the right word for a situation dictates most of it, much to the dismay of their editor (as admitted directly in the piece). They seem to be at peace with this, for which I congratulate them. It's clear they're a better writer than I.
I liked that the motivation for the rules were plainly present. Some were just "other person is wrong", which I find the least compelling form of justification in the entire thing and it's unfortunate that it takes the better part of 17 rules to get past that, only for your eyes to be caught in the brambles of #18's presentation. In charcoal-grey it's trying to say "just use the big words when you want to", but it's instead written in purple so sumptuous that it's outside the gamut of human vision and I can't perceive the colour anymore. Or anything else for that matter.
The next one's good, though, and the one that I tell anyone who sends me writing to review. It's just good, clear advice.