Bester's greatest triumph, other than the use of psychedelic synaestheia in his novels, was his unerring ear for language, in ways that seem almost transparent now.
For instance, his advertising jingles sound like advertising jingles, in all their tawdry glory, as does his pop tune lyrics. People on the street use a different language than his shakers and movers, who aren't speaking an "affected" version of the English language, but a "correct" one, similar to what's spoken in classic Delaney. To give some idea of how difficult this is, contrast the language in The Stars My Destination with that of Atlas Shrugged. Ayn Rand thinks nothing of calling something "Rearden Metal" when real people, speaking real English, would have called it Rearden, Rearden Steel, or something else. Her version sounds like the apocryphal work of the German musicologist working in the late 1960's who, on deciding to write a rock tune, came up with a lovely 12-bar blues about a boy and a girl, who both love each other because they both love heroin.