Interesting somewhat funny article at Slate...

The Anne Winters Challenge: Should a Marxist poet be stylistically ornate?
By Dan Chiasson

Wouldn't Winters' time be better served petitioning City Hall or learning carpentry than getting the cadences of her poem right?

But when you start bringing these kinds of objections up—when they start interfering with your enjoyment of works of art—you realize what an impoverished discussion we've all been having, these past years, about art and its connection to experience. We've come to imagine that there needs to be a traceable, obvious connection between "style" in art and subject matter. An art of the people better have lots of swear-words and spitting in it. And honking horns. An art of the intellect should be about Big Ideas. An art of theoretical density has got to be unintelligible. An art of great beauty should mention snow fields and sunsets. Art by Southerners should be full of dirt-roads and hounds. If this sounds parodic, read around in contemporary literature with my inventory in mind. Contemporary literature is parodic.