What’s a good writing style? Over the millennia, there have been four basic theories about good style.
First, there’s the idea that it’s simply good character reflected in writing. As George-Louis Leclerc Buffon (the French naturalist) declared in the 18th century: “Style is the man himself.” More recently, the novelist Norman Mailer made a similar equation: “Style is character.”
Second, there’s the idea (undoubtedly related) that style is first-rate content: “Have something to say,” the philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer wrote. That’s his “first rule for good style.” The poet Matthew Arnold agreed, calling sound content “the only secret of style.”
Third, there’s the idea that style should be invisible—totally unnoticeable to readers who are enthralled by what’s being said. Maybe it’s another way of saying the second point: the words should “absolutely disappear into the thought.” Those are the words of Nathaniel Hawthorne. (Remember The Scarlet Letter?) Or, as George Orwell put it, “Good prose is like a windowpane.” A clean one, we hope.
Finally, there’s the idea that writing should be as stripped-down, straightforward, and simple as it can possibly be—without oversimplification, mind you. But there shouldn’t be one whiff of unnecessary complexity. It should be idiomatic and plain-spoken: “Style becomes perfect as it becomes natural.” (A.R. Orage) “No style is good that isn’t fit to be spoken or read aloud with effect.” (William Hazlitt)
But doesn’t that depend on having a good character? Maybe all these pronouncements are synonymous. They’re sincerely approaching the matter from different angles. Let’s try reading that out loud.