"Or who cares in today's world about creating many forms of anacoluthon, such as beginning a sentence in one way and continuing or ending it in another way?
"Or even more mystifying, reversing the apex of the pyramidal structure, so that potential readers remain hopelessly bewildered when attempting to understand the gestalt philosophical purpose behind your work?"
"I was being droll," I responded stiffly, noting that the caregiver, probably like the reviewer, is of Scottish ancestry. It seems the subtleties of the absurd might have been lost on those resident north of Hadrian's Wall, simply because they have consumed too much porridge over the centuries.
"Ah! So you were still trying to be funny, in a long-winded academic sort of way?" replied the caregiver triumphantly. "You haven't really left the children's table, have you?"
Having exposed the fact that my so-called philosophical work is really satire flying at an altitude beyond comprehension, there was little more to say, so I continued to slurp down the caregiver's oats in silence.
"I think it's back to the drawing board for you," she continued. "What's your latest manuscript all about?"
"It's about the Chester Medieval Mystery Plays and the 1475 Corpus Christi script on the trial and flagellation of Christ," I grumpily replied.
"Let's trust the drollness behind that heavy-duty drama doesn't get lost in translation, as well," she replied dryly.
