The first person

I find the first person oddly intrusive in academic writing. I want the author to tell me what they know about a topic without resorting to phrases such as ‘I am trying to suggest that all clouds are fluffy’ or ‘I concur with Whitney Houston that the greatest love of all is learning to love oneself’. Just tell the reader that all clouds are fluffy or the greatest love of all is learning to love oneself. Authors shouldn’t insert themselves into a narrative where they don’t belong.

There are exceptions, of course – like this blogpost. I’m using the first person here because I’m telling you about my own stylistic preferences. In this case, I am the narrative.

Some academic writers think that the first person adds personality to their work. It doesn’t. The first person often drains your prose of colour because it fails to let the nouns and verbs speak for themselves. It’s like a voice-over on a nature documentary; sometimes informative, occasionally distracting, but ultimately unnecessary. The first person shoves the author into the spotlight instead of foregrounding what the reader is likely more interested in: the theories, the data, the findings, the goddamn story.

Consider the following two passages, both taken from Aaron Trammell’s book Repairing Play:

One person’s game can be another’s torment. I can remember being bullied as a child in the playground, while other kids ripped the legs off insects for fun. (2023: 46-7)

We are haunted by the ghosts of our ancestors. I admire how Ann Cvetkovich encourages us to engage with how the memorialization of trauma is productive of affect. (2023: 49)

The first passage recounts Trammell’s personal experience, a painful memory that brings to life his main thesis (one person’s game can be another’s torment). The first person (I can remember) is appropriate, even powerful, in this context.

The second passage is less successful. Trammell tells us how he feels (I admire) without leaving room for the reader to reach their own conclusions. It ought to be an account of Cvetkovich’s ideas, not a logbook of Trammell’s feelings.

Now listen to the difference between the first-person singular (I) and the first-person plural (we). The second hits where the first misses. Trammell is not only saying he is haunted by the ghosts of his ancestors. He wants to put an arm around the reader and invite them to see themselves, too, as haunted by their ancestors. We is more compelling than I because it gestures towards a shared experience, not a self-centred one.

Trammell could have constructed the passage as follows:

We are haunted by the ghosts of our ancestors. As Ann Cvetkovich reminds us, the memorialization of trauma is productive of affect.

Implicitly, we know that Trammell agrees with Cvetkovich, maybe even admires her ideas. So there’s no need to come right out and say it. In fact, it’s more persuasive if the author retreats from view and lets the reader encounter the argument, and kick its tires, for themselves.

In her book Stylish Academic Writing, Helen Sword devotes an entire chapter to the first person. ‘Once upon a time’, she writes, ‘PhD students across the disciplines were taught that personality should never intrude upon scholarly writing’ (2012: 36). Not anymore, she tells us. Out of sixty-six peer-reviewed journals she surveyed, only one prohibits personal pronouns. Today, it is common practice to use the first-person singular in academic research. Speaking as yourself, Sword suggests, will make your sentences ‘more energetic, more persuasive, and easier to understand’ (2012: 37).

Perhaps. But my point is this. Texture, flavour, zing – all of this will emerge from the story you tell the reader. You don’t need to remind the reader on every page who is telling the story. They already know it’s you; it’s your name at the top of the article or on the front of the book.

So, avoid overusing the first-person singular (unless you’re telling the reader what you did and how you did it – such as in a method section). Make the reader feel like they are actually reading an article or a book, rather than having a one-sided conversation with someone who just won’t shut up. Don’t be that guy.