Shvarts writes with the obscurantist condescension of the expensively ill-educated. This is the prose that appears on the walls of our museum exhibits: rancid with jargon, evasive with meaning, bursting with self-confidence."obscurantist condescension of the expensively ill-educated" is a phrase I will need to use.
(Doesn't "Shvarts Fisking" sound like a little Scandinavian village? Perhaps one widely renowned for the excellent quality of its hand-carved wooden toothbrush holders. I imagine they have lively town meetings to argue about the elderberry harvest, and before school each day all the little children gather around in their enormously fluffy sweaters to sing songs about the welfare state and modern furniture.)