them. Rather than inviting us in, the beautiful language is more like a waterproof sealant, locking us on the surface where all we can do is admire the words, rather than absorb the story that they’re meant to tell. And while this is the last thing the author meant to do, now we’re kind of annoyed. Because it feels a wee bit like the writer is showing off. Like he’s saying, “Look how well I write!” rather than “Forget about me; lose yourself in my story!”
