Posts on character names

Fuse #8 linked to these lists of the Hottest Baby Names of 2008, per Parents.com. (And while you're there, check out the whiteness of all those babies pictured! Not an Aaliyah among them, I bet.)

One thing that struck me, perusing the Top 50 lists, is how many names appeared on both lists. Eight of fifty are, based on popularity, gender-neutral. And I'm guessing that if you looked at the Top 100, you'd find a bunch more. Here are the eight:

• Avery (#15 girls/#13 boys)
• Riley (#16/#15)
• Dylan (#26/#23)
• Logan (#27/#24)
• Hayden (#35/#29)
• Bailey (#40/#31)
• Brooklyn (#41/#33)
• Taylor (#46/#35)

I have to admit, I'm a fan of gender-neutral names. I can't fully articulate why. My reasons range from thinking, "What if someday I have a child with ambiguous genitalia?" (yes, I really do ask myself these questions) to remembering how much I despised my own name when I was a kid (sorry, Mom). I never felt like a "Lisa," which struck me as a very delicate, feminine name. I wasn't pretty; I didn't want a pretty name.

I remember being thrilled in fourth grade when, in a musical, I got to choose a name for my character. I chose "Leslie"—which has lost popularity as a boys' name in the past couple decades but historically is gender-neutral. (Not that I was thinking of it that way at the time.) At one Scout camp I worked at, I went by "Wishbone," after the cook in Rawhide. At another, "Pete." Sometimes I still forget, when people say "Lisa," they're talking about me.

In one of my novel manuscripts, the main character has a gender-neutral name. The few people who read the first draft came back to me and said, "Hey, I didn't know until page eight that Colby was a girl. Was that intentional?" Actually, Holly Black, who critiqued my first ten pages at the Wisconsin SCBWI conference, said something to the effect of, "For the first eight pages, I thought Colby was a boy—and a real asshole!" And she was totally right. As a girl, Colby was merely angry; as a boy, Colby was a first-class jerk. I ended up revising the second paragraph to include a gender reference, clearing up the confusion and exonerating Colby of asshole-ism.

Not that it always matters. A friend pointed me to Fish, by L. S. Matthews. The story is told in first person by a completely gender-ambiguous narrator. The narrator is referred to only as "you," "Tiger," or "the child." A very rare thing, no? I think I've seen some first-person picture books with gender-ambiguous narrators, but they're definitely in the minority, especially when illustrations come into the mix. Can you think of any?

One more thing about these "hot" baby names—the obsession with Aidan is getting on my nerves. Check out these names from the boys' list:

• Aidan (#1)
• Jayden (#2)
• Caden (#6)
• Peyton (#17)
• Hayden (#29)
• Brayden (#37)

Am I the only one who thinks this is a little silly? I mean, we're naming babies, not playing the Name Game, right? I half expected Bananafanafofaden to make the list.

The fall issue of SCBWI Illinois' Prairie Wind is online, with the fourth installment of author Carmela Martino's series on naming characters, "What's in a Name?"

I'm all aglow because she cites a couple of my blog posts from a few months back about character-naming issues—and, amazingly, I don't sound like a complete idiot. Yes, sounding like a complete idiot is one of my big fears. For as often as I sound like a complete idiot, I'm still not quite used to it.

But read the article because, truly, it's not just about me. It's about how names' sound and connotation (etymological or personal) affect characterization. Carmela points out that depending on connotation can be an iffy thing because names may evoke different meanings for different readers. (Thinking of naming a character Rudolf? Are your readers going to think "red-nosed reindeer" or "Nazi war criminal"?)

While reading, I thought of the four March sisters in Little Women. Perhaps it's just because they are so familiar to me, but could the girls' names be more perfect? Meg, starting with that warm "mmm" like "mommy." Meg reminds me of nutmeg, the warm, sweet smells of baking, very domestic—and Meg, of course, often must act as mother to her sisters. Then there's Jo, an abrupt name, gender-ambiguous, evoking the brash, tomboyish character. Beth, a name that no matter how loudly you say it ends with a sigh, a whisper; sure enough, sweet, gentle Beth fades away. Finally, Amy, a stalwart, no-nonsense name with a bit of a whine from the long "a"; again, it suits Amy, spoiled baby of the family, to a tee.

I never could get over the name Laurie for the boy next door, though. That's a nickname that hasn't withstood the test of time.

Thanks to Carmela's article, I've also got a new blog to read now: author Darcy Pattison's Revision Notes. She posts frequently with ideas about how to approach different children's book genres, plus tips and information about the children's book industry—for example, What Kids Think Is Funny and 12 Picture Book Topics to Avoid. Looks like meaty reading!

(Regarding the post title: it's literal, of course, but tonight I also began watching the BBC's Brideshead Revisited. I'm enjoying it so far but am afraid it will all end in tears. No, I have not read the book. No spoilers, please!)

In the most recent issue of The Prairie Wind, the Illinois SCBWI’s newsletter, Carmela Martino had an interesting article about putting thought into naming characters. What can you glean from a character based on name alone, she asks? How is a Hubert different from a Kyle?

But one thing I’d like to know that Martino didn’t address is how do names alone suggest characterization?

Is it something about the way they sound when you say them? Is a Leilani beautiful and graceful, the way the name dances from your lips? In which case, does that make a Gretchen abrasive?

Or is it because of other words the name evokes? You might expect a Kurt to be, well, curt. Or a Bruce to be bear-like, because of the word Bruin. Rose to be beautiful but hiding a few thorns.

And there’s nicknames. A boy who insists on being called James instead of Jim is reserved and particular. Every nickname for a girl named Alexandra – Alex, Lexi, Sandy, Xandra, you name it – says something different about her.

A William has hundreds of regal predecessors. An Adolf immediately calls to mind Hitler.

Certain patterns in literature, however, I can’t understand. For example, I’ve wondered why so many Percys turn out to be wankers or downright evil: Percy Weasley from Harry Potter, Peerless Percy from The Man Without a Face, Percy Wetmore from The Green Mile, and I know I’ve encountered others. Is it because “Percy” sounds like “prissy” or “persnickety”? Is it because it evokes pursing your lips when you taste something sour? In which case, why not pursing your lips for a kiss?

(With some thought I can think of some positive Percys. Percy Jackson from The Lightning Thief immediately comes to mind, of course. With a little more digging, I’ve also come up with Percy Engine – Thomas’s best friend – and Sir Percy of Scandia, a/k/a Black Knight, from Marvel comics. Maybe the tide is turning?)

More thoughts on character names – specifically, unusual ones – in literature are on the way…