For some time, a tattered scrap of paper amid the stacks on my desk has been reminding me to investigate three words, their relationship to one another and the proper use of articles and prepositions around them.
There’s no time like the present, even though I have a myriad of other things to do. Or was that a panoply? Or a plethora?
If you bristled at “a myriad of,” hoping for a Gotcha, simmer down.
I too believed myriad was an adjective modifying a noun, not a noun requiring an “a” before and an “of” after. That’s what I was taught anyway. Weren’t you? Myriad things to do, not a myriad of…
Well I looked it up, and numerous (myriad, perhaps) experts agree with Miriam-Webster that myriad is both an adjective and a noun:
“Recent criticism of the use of myriad as a noun, both in the plural form myriads and in the phrase a myriad of, seems to reflect a mistaken belief that the word was originally and is still properly only an adjective. As the entries here show, however, the noun is in fact the older form, dating to the 16th century. The noun myriad has appeared in the works of such writers as Milton (plural myriads) and Thoreau (a myriad of), and it continues to occur frequently in reputable English. There is no reason to avoid it.” (Personally, I’d be inclined to come out of the 16th century and stick with the adjective.)
So, in my second sentence of this post, did I use myriad correctly? Probably not. Literally and traditionally, myriad means ten thousand. Yes, I do have myriad things to do but not 10,000. It is also said: to mean a great number, innumerable or a large number of unspecified size.
Next question: is a myriad the same as a panoply? Quite often we hear the two used interchangeably. A panoply can mean a great many things, including military attire or a flashy cover. But it is also a splendid or magnificent array, as a panoply of colorful flags. I don’t know what’s on your desk, but the piles on mine are hardly splendid.
By the way, sources say panoply isn’t preceded by an article such as “a” or “the.”
If panoply is an array, then “panoply of” would be followed by a plural, no? I ask the question because the lyrics of “June Hymn,” a beautiful song by The Decemberists, mentions “a panoply of song” – which makes me wonder if song really means songs, in the same way people lately talk about sport, which used to be sports.
Finally – plethora, also commonly misused. A plethora is too many, an overabundance. Just be sure you know what it means — in case someone asks. For a little context, watch the first minute and a quarter of this clip, from one of my favorite bad movies:
As we turn in to the home stretch of 2012, I pause to appreciate the most important 100-year-old thing in the life of my family — our house.
After Chief Medical Correspondent Dr. Nancy Snyderman rebuffed the congressman’s theory, the panel’s legal analyst, Star Jones, cautioned that the congressman’s gaffe could harm GOP candidate Mitt Romney, whose campaign could be “tarred with the same feather.”
I’d take him. In a Fletch-off, that is. I’m not proud of this, but I’ve got the whole movie memorized. I even have an autograph that Chevy Chase wrote to me in 1988, suggesting I name my unborn baby Fletch. No kidding.
Did you spot it?
One would think I’d have figured out by now that, at the moment the temperature in the room, in the car, in church, in a meeting, even at the podium, suddenly and without warning soars to a dangerous high, it’s me. But still I ask.
Sisters, if that fashion trend doesn’t strike your fancy, how about this: When the devil strikes, I take a washcloth from the stack in the refrigerator, drape it around my neck and attach it with a chip clip. For women our age, it’s the new black. Look for it on the cover of More magazine.
But, after losing power again yesterday, something struck me. Without juice, it’s hard to tell time.
I remembered that we received six clocks—none electric—as wedding gifts 27 years ago. It was comforting to rediscover that some if not most of those are still around. Then I remembered the trusty timepiece my husband brought into our marriage, a relic from the 1950s, when his father sold shoes for a living.
It’s your new hit single, “Boyfriend.” You know, don’t you, dear, that “If I was your boyfriend” is incorrect? Not incorrect in the musically acceptable ain’t-got-no way. Incorrect in the it-sounds-right-to-me-and-anyhow-that’s-what-everybody-says way. I’m disappointed that your mother, your fellow songwriters, producers, agents and marketeers didn’t advise you to change one simple word, just to make you sound like the smart young man you probably are.
You know it goes: Contestants are asked to “Name something that …” as they aim to match their answers with answers of others on their team, as well as with survey responses cast by the audience. If instructed to name something you would find your refrigerator, for example, you might say “milk,” knowing that might be a popular—and hence, high scoring—answer.
Word Nymph 