The reliably entertaining Letters of Note has this little gem, written by Raymond Chandler to a proofreader at The Atlantic Monthly. Touchy, touchy, Ray Ray.
“By the way, would you convey my compliments to the purist who reads your proofs and tell him or her that I write in a sort of broken-down patois which is something like the way a Swiss waiter talks, and that when I split an infinitive, God damn it, I split it so it will stay split, and when I interrupt the velvety smoothness of my more or less literate syntax with a few sudden words of barroom vernacular, this is done with the eyes wide open and the mind relaxed but attentive. The method may not be perfect, but it is all I have. “
He ends his letter with a tour-de-force poem that really needs to be read to be fully appreciated. Something tells me that this sort of artistic indignation is sadly lacking in today’s publishing world.