Dear Me! Infernal Pronouns Can Trip You Up

The Court of Peeves, Irks & Crotchets resumes its April assizes with a petition from Charlotte Portugal Libater of Charleston, S.C. She asks an injunction against, "Thank you for joining Jeanne and myself for lunch."

Injunction granted! The best that can be said for joining Jeanne and myself for lunch is that it beats joining Jeanne and I for lunch - aaargh! Our thanks should be extended for joining Jeanne and me for lunch.

Why is it that so many speakers and writers get hung up on reflexives? It is because these infernal little pronouns are booby traps along the road to Euphony. Consider, if you will, "Dr. Wesley sent a copy of the report to the hospital, the insurance company, and myself."

Stripped down, the sentence says that Dr. Wesley sent a copy to myself. It is as if myself were a disembodied being, Dr. Rosalin A. Myself. Without recasting, the only way to improve the clumsy sentence is to write that "Dr. Wesley sent a copy of the report to the hospital, the insurance company, and me." Poor me! The "me" dangles like a dead fish at the end of the sentence.

Most of the difficulties occur when the reflexive pronoun is part of a compound subject or object: "David, Sheila, Katie and myself attended the concert." "The awards went to Emily, Charlotte, James and myself." The court advises "I" in the first instance, "me" in the second.

Reflexives of intensity present other pitfalls. The court recalls Linda Gotrocks, who was raised in a wealthy family. "It was not until she was 24 that Linda began cooking herself." Immolation? At 24? Yet the sentence is not greatly improved by, ". . . that Linda herself began cooking."

The court's advice in such cases is to treat reflexives like dandelions: Root them out. Thus, "Dr. Wesley sent me a copy of the report. He also sent copies to the hospital and the insurance company." We could let Linda cook "on her own." It doesn't take much effort to escape the flypaper sentence. Recasting is the answer.

John Patrick of Olympia, Wash., is irked by "awful lot," especially in such constructions as, "An awful lot of candidates will run in November." The court enjoins the use of "awful lot" in print, but refuses a writ as to speech.

The meaning of "awful," in the sense of "exceedingly great," goes back at least to the late 18th century. The much earlier meaning of "inspiring awe" long ago gave way to "awesome." No one has used "awful" in the sense of "reverential" since Shelley in 1816. The trouble with "awful" as an intensifying adjective is that it has lost its intensity. The court will enter an order reserving "awful" exclusively in the sense of "extremely disagreeable," as in, "that garbage smells awful."

Walter Boone of Terrell, N.C., calls the court's attention to another colloquialism. This was a headline in The Charlotte Observer: "Candidates shouldn't attribute too much influence to media." The plaintiff objects to the "too much." Does it carry more or less weight than "excessive"? A companion complaint goes to "that," as in, "The Dodgers weren't that bad." They weren't?

Again the court would draw a distinction between formal writing on the one hand, and speech and informal writing on the other. Especially in negative constructions, the idiomatic "too" and "that" work fine. "She's not too wild about him." "He's not all that handsome." The usage depends upon pitch. One pitch is right for an Easter sermon, another pitch for the softball team.

The April docket seems to be filled with colloquial cases. C. Richard Williams of Columbus, Ohio, asks a ruling against "done," as in, "Are you done yet?"

The court agrees with the plaintiff that "finished" may often be a better choice, but "done," in the sense of "to arrive at an ending," has been a part of standard English usage for 600 years. Injunction denied.

Jo Sohneronne of Olympia, Wash., petitions for a rehearing and reversal of the court's ruling against a butcher's ad offering a special price on "chicken hindquarters." The court's doubtful decree was that only quadrupeds have hindquarters; chickens have drumsticks and second joints.

The petitioner asserts that a "chicken hindquarter" is one side of the back half of the bird - precisely the hind quarter. The motion will be held in abeyance awaiting advice from friends of the court.

(Copyright, 1993, Universal Press Syndicate)

The Writer's Art by James J. Kilpatrick appears Sunday in the Scene section.