Mortally confused

My dad recently sent me a copy of Michael Chabon's Gentlemen of the Road. I had very mixed feelings having already tried to read a previous book of Chabon. Let me paint you a little picture.

"Michael Chabon can write like a magical spider, effortlessly spinning out elaborate webs of words that ensnare the reader with their beauty and their style."
-The New York Times

"[Michael Chabon] is, simply, the coolest writer in America."
-The Christian Science Monitor

"Michael Chabon's sentence structure confuses the sh*t out of me."
-me

"Chabon's writing is elegant and limber"
-San Fransisco Chronicle

"[The dude] uses words I don't know to describe other words I don't know. I mean common,[man], I'm drowning by page two, and by the end of the first chapter I have a stage four migraine."
-me

Seriously though, I needed ready access to dictionary.com in order to finish the first chapter with any comprehension of storyline. I don't know many things in life, but I do know this one thing: I would be terrified to play scrabble with Michael Chabon.

Each of his words would be seven letters, with three x's apiece. I can picture him throwing down a word like Zxonqiu for a triple word score and then laughing in my face as I scrambled for my Webster's.

"You won't find that word in your puny little dictionary, you worthless mortal!" He would bellow.
"I just created that word!" A large ominous cloud would start to form above both of us, and rumblings of thunder would approach from afar. Chabon himself would start to crackle with the electricity in the air and he would levitate from the ottoman he was sitting on. His guffaw would emanate from the deepest part of his being. "From nothing I can create words that confuse and belittle people!"

And like that, he would plop back down in the ottoman, take a sip of his herbal tea, pick up seven more tiles, and irreverently tell me that it's my turn.

Crap. All I have is 'PUN'.