Why all the Despair Working on London Again?

Read this then you tell me.  Better yet—and by "yet" I mean "for you," a favor you should thank me for in money—two short excerpts:

He ate hurriedly, half chewing the bread and washing the unmasticated chunks down with coffee.

There was legerdemain in her actions.

When these sentences were written in 1906, he was one of the most popular writers in America.  Should've stopped him from making sweet, sweet love to Roget.

It didn't. 

Comments

[Adam Roberts]

Let's not forget his skill at dialogue. This, from the Library of America London, opened at random:

"Ah, ha! Mr. Pocket!" he cried out, as though to an auditor hidden somewhere above him beneath the surface of the slope. "Ah, ha! Mr. Pocket! I'm a-comin', I'm a-comin', an' I'm shorely gwine to get yer! You heah me, Mr. Pocket? I'm gwine to get yer as shore as punkins ain't cauliflowers!"

He turned and flung a measuring glance at the sun poised above him in the azure of the cloudless sky ... There was little opportunity for the spirit of the place to return with its quietude and repose, for the man's voice, raised in ragtime song, still dominated the canyon with possession.

What's so excellent here is the clash of conversational demotic ("as shore as punkins ain't cauliflowers!") with the pompous chill of the narrator's tone ("...flung a measuring glance at the sun poised above him in the azure of the cloudless sky ")

What a fine writer. How I envy you.

[Kevin Munoz]

I just wanted to mention.... the link to the thesaurus thing is http:...all_scribes_uti.html

When I first saw the URL I thought it meant something like: all scribes get urinary tract infections.

I have nothing intelligent to contribute to this discussion.

[TM]

Perhaps literate people were more...uh...literate a hundred years ago.

You know, thay new howta speek good and uze fansy werds n shit.