I was feeling a sense of impeding doom a few hours ago, coupled with perhaps the barest tinge of nostalgic affection for the "Good Ol' Days" of the early youth. Lounging with Lord of the Rings or Watership Down fresh in the mind, on a sunny, windy morning in some date in December.
So I picked up my old, battered, browned, tattered, splotched, and in past times oft-read copy of Jedi Search, by the ol' Kevin, and whaddaya know.
(To all those mystified by these seemingly nonsensical words, please finish Horizon Storms as quickly as you may.)
No stilted dialogue!
No unnecessary add-ons!
Okay, maybe that was exaggerated. There was that characteristic Anderson ethos, but it was almost nonexistent. Submerged under the comfortable label of Star Wars.
This has led to the disturbing theory that Anderson thinks that his present writing style is good, an improvment to the slicker scribbling of his youth.
To verify this disturbing theory or postulatum further I read Darksaber and found elements of this superfluidity beginning to emerge in his writing.
I am expecting a small brick to appear on eBay. And I may even be proven right.