Oops! A correction...

Perhaps it's the congenial spirit of the season or perhaps it's months of linguistic study - probably it's just the desire to set a wrong to right - but I want to amend something I made quite a snobby little point of last year when I reviewed a book called Me and Mr Darcy by Alexandra Potter.

How can Potter write Me and Mr Darcy, I asked? Not only is there vulgarity contained within this novel, the author has the grammar wrong! My, what a snotty-nosed little critic I was!

Well...my mistake!

After all, why not Me and Mr Darcy? Do you see a verb there? I don't see a verb there. For all I knew or know this phrase has been picked out of a sentence in which it functions as an object, like, That nervy blogger is writing about me and Mr Darcy, again - a sentence in which 'me and Mr Darcy' is the object of the preposition 'about.'

Oh, Ms Smith - fourth grade English teacher - I should have known better! Did you not teach me grammar if not modesty and sense? With hubris I entered adulthood and stayed there for quite a while culminating in a moment of public criticism in which I implied that this author, poor Ms Potter, doesn't have a proper hold on sentence construction! Like it even matters!

Obviously, if the narrator of the book were saying 'Me and Mr Potter got a thrashing from that blogger again,' then the grammar must be amended by changing the objective 'me' to the nominative 'I.' (And maybe you would want to transpose the two subjects for the sake of politeness.) But who cares?

First, this is the stuff children's grammar lessons are made of. Why pick into such a trivial thing when commenting on a novel, especially when point number two is coming right up. That is, why criticize a paperback with the charge of rudeness when all you have is a noun phrase floating around on its cover? Grammarians of the world, you're obviously not reading my blog if you let that go.

So, I hope I've shown proper contrition for my presumptuous assertion of last year.

One last thing: I may have given off the itsy-bitsy teeny-tiny little suggestion that the book's not very fun. - Oops. - It was actually quite entertaining if a bit bawdy.

Literary Pet Peeves

Book critics with attitude.

You know the type....They're more interested in turning a phrase, ultimately overwrought and grating, than in helping to guide anyone in their book-buying efforts. 'LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME!' they seem to yell. Aren't I clever? As a matter of fact, I'm so clever that I'm going to rate this book a D- and show you how fancy I can write.' Do I sound like a writer scorned?

Actually, it's not all critics with attitude that bother me, just some. And, honestly, can't you say the same? It's like when you read a magazine profile of a celebrity and come away feeling that you know more about the psychology (and mental word count) of the journalist who wrote it than the famous person whose pics are splashed all over the pages.

Anyway, with all that said, I'd like also to say that some critics are quite good at what they do. My beef is with the few (but loud) who use their bully-pulpit to nauseate the rest of us readers.

So, please, if you're a book critic (competent or with attitude), keep reading. Let me show you how fancy I can write.

Self-infatuated writing by authors who've spent too much time inhaling dust in the farther reaches of the library instead of reading in the fresh air where they should.

I was once perusing a piece of literary criticism. I think the writer of that piece got a little carried away with himself. "In embryo," one phrase was just too cute. In embryo, you say? That's right.

Reader, I laughed at it.

Apparently, 'in sum' was too often used, 'in a nutshell' too casual, and 'in short' too mundane. So the writer either sat there scratching his head, tearing at his thoughts trying to find some unusual way to express himself or he spends far too much touchy, feely time with that inner child everyone talks about.

Perhaps we should send him some body-building magazines to toughen him up a bit....

Bloggers who can't resist the temptation to write fancy and read in dusty, remote library rooms.

What? You think I don't know I'm one of them? Take a look at my review of Alexandra Potter's Me and Mr Darcy from last year. Tragic. Did I jump over the edge of the QE2 with that one or what? I was kinda harsh. And way too cutesy.

Hopefully, other critics are kinder than I am.