It was all completely incomprehensible to me. I was fearful of the language. You had to look up every third word.
… he writes the worst English that I have ever encountered. It reminds me of a string of wet sponges; it reminds me of tattered washing on the line; it reminds me of stale bean-soup, of college yells, of dogs barking idiotically through endless nights. It is so bad that a sort of grandeur creeps into it. It drags itself out of the dark abysm (I was about to write abscess!) of pish, and crawls insanely up the topmost pinnacle of posh. It is rumble and bumble. It is flap and doodle. It is balder and dash.
I have tried lately to read Shakespeare, and found it so intolerably dull that it nauseated me.
By reason of weird translation, many such sets of instructions read like poems anyhow.
When The Stone Roses first came out, the early reviews called me 'simian.' I had to look that up at the time.
Readers in general are not fond of dialect, and I don't blame them. I've read books myself that I've had to put down because sounding out every speech gave me a headache.
if sometimes we are bogged down in lines full of "corybulous", "hypogeum", "plangent", "irrefragably", "glozening", "tellurian", "conclamant", sometimes we are caught up in the soaring rapture of something unprecedented, absolutely individual.
Some of the substance of English words, I just don't understand at all because the culture's so strange to me.
