Thwackum, Squeers and Griffiths
Back in the day, a top author – such as Henry Fielding, who died in 1754 – would enjoy giving some of his characters names like Mr Thwackum (a savage clergyman and schoolmaster) and Squire Allworthy (a man as virtuous as his name suggests.)
Charles Dickens, a century or more later, wasn’t quite as direct, but you can still hear the character suggestion come through pretty clearly in names like Ebenezer Scrooge (a miser), Uriah Heep (an unctuous sycophant), Tiny Tim (the one to generate the tears), Thomas Gradgrind (a fact-obsessed school superintendent), Wackford Squeers (a cruel headmaster), Estella (beautiful, but distant – like a star), and so on.
These days, we generally don’t do that. The problem with those names is that they hang a huge placard round the neck of the character. “Hey, I’m Allworthy. You don’t even have to think about who I am – you don’t have to scrutinise the way I talk and act and make choices – because look at this great big placard. I’m ALL-WORTHY, right? Look how great I am.”
In effect, the name compresses the space in which the character can operate – and a book without characters isn’t going to be worth all that much.
Dickens’s names aren’t quite as blatant as Henry Fielding, but the sheer improbability of a ‘Wackford Squeers’ announce the author’s intention almost as directly. The placard is smaller, but it’s still there.
The modern approach therefore tends to be sadly dull, You might have a Gradgrind-y type character, let’s say, but you’d call him or her something like Mark Pettigrew or Samantha Anderson. Your ideal name is just interesting enough to remember, but just boring enough that it’s not calling attention to itself (Jabberwocky Jones or Bianca Blanco.)
Likewise, you’ll think not just of your star players, but your team sheet as a whole. You might love the name Rhodri for a friend of your protagonist, but if you already have a Rhys, a Rob, a Rhian and a Rhydian, your reader is going to get seriously confused.
This advice so far has all been very sensible, but, but, but …
Isn’t there a halfway house, perhaps? Something that could add flavour without simply depriving the character of space in which to operate?
And the answer, surely, is yes. The trick is to add a bayleaf or two, not the whole damn kitchen cupboard. (I learned this trick from my colleague, Sarah Juckes, by the way, then realised I’d already been doing something similar, but unconsciously.)
The idea is that you choose a character’s name that refers, even in the most oblique way, to some deep-lying essence of the person. So, in Sarah’s Outside, her characters are trapped in a single, horrible room. The name Willow suggested something of the outdoors – the yearning for it, as well perhaps as the slender-but-tough whippiness of a willow stick. It’s a lovely way to encapsulate a feeling – but at the same time, the name is common enough that it doesn’t break the basic Mark Pettigrew / Samantha Anderson naming convention.
What’s more the name does make a difference. You can almost feel the energy the book gets as a result. If you doubt me, just try giving Willow the name Samantha Anderson. You’d never choose to make that switch, would you?
I used to think I don’t play a lot of those games in my Welsh fiction, or at least that I did so only very sparingly. In the first book, I allowed my main character, Fiona “Fi” Griffiths, to meditate on her name:
Fi. That’s ‘if’ backwards.
Griffiths. Nice ordinary name, but two more ‘if’s lurking at the heart of it. My name, literally, is as iffy as you can get. The only solid sound, the only one you can actually hang on to, is that opening G, and it’s not to be trusted.
Elsewhere, I don’t muck around much. My other series characters are really named just to be plausibly Welsh (in most cases) and of the right approximate generation.
But when I explore more closely, I do often end up with names that carry a scent.
In my current (much-delayed) WIP, the doctor in charge of a secure psychiatric hospital is called Etta Gulleford. That is a striking name, of course. It commands attention, just as the woman in question is also striking and commanding. Is the name a bit disconcerting, perhaps? Hard to place? Probably, and if so, that fits with her character too.
The inmate in that hospital that Fiona is most interested in also has a non-standard name, Jared Coad. Again, that’s not quite so unusual it challenges the boundaries of realism. And I mostly chose it because it was plausible and yet memorable. A two-syllable name to remember.
But, thinking more about it, I think there’s more going on there too. Jared is an Old Testament biblical name. The character is a damaged warrior, but with depths of virtue. A dangerous prophet? An ancient Judaic king? Those echoes do work for the character on the page – magnificent, avenging, doomed. The splash of antiquity somehow adds a useful dimension to an otherwise very twenty-first century character.
I’ll quite often change characters names as I write a draft, twisting this way and that way until I have something that feels right. That feeling comes by touch and feel: I’m not at all programmatic about it. And sometimes, to be honest, the names never quite feel right. They nag at me long after publication.
(Which brings me to a further tip, actually. Unless you are really sure of your choice of name, only use names where you can use the Find and Replace tool easily. That means avoiding a name like Jo, because it forms a part of too many ordinary words (jogging, banjo, and the like. If you use a name like Joely, you get the same kind of flavour but the Find and Replace tool will still work for you.)
I’d really love to know how you name your characters and, in particular, how you manage to add a hint of character or depth into a name that still seems like a plausible choice for the character concerned. And no, fantasy authors, you don’t get the day off. I want to know how you pick names too. Voldemort isn’t a name you’d give to a good guy, is it? I guess the “mort” part of that name is bringing hints of death, but I probably wouldn’t lend my wallet to someone whose name began “Volde” either. So, yep, SF and fantasy authors too: I want to know how you come up with names.
Don’t email to tell me. Share your thoughts in the comments below. Let’s have a heated debate …
My first draft is complete, and although I have all the first names, ALL of the surnames are still starred out. I’m useless at making such decisions. Namely (excuse the pun): My son is called: Kadri Samuel Sebastian Aiken Raghip aka Sam. I told you I was useless!
Don’t worry, our son was “baby boy Backhouse” on his hospital notes because until he popped out he was going to be Sophie May. He is happy with Joshua Francis Joseph (couldn’t choose between grandfathers so had to have both middle names) and his guitar, which is his favourite thing, is called Sophie!
My sister’s kids were always called “It” for the first few weeks. She was not a rapid namer
That’s interesting. I’ve done that once, way back – actually have a picture of my character up on the wall to keep me centred on the right look. That approach never really stuck though. I only did it the once
A prison guard called Gail Lockhouse. Would that work? Or what about a feminist called Fanny Power?
I’d say that they’d be too much for general fiction, but maybe there are genres where such names could work- children’s books being one example, though maybe not the latter name!
As I most write historical fiction, where most of my characters come with names pre-assigned, this thread would seem irrelevant to me at first brush. And yet…
Maybe it’s not.
Much has been written about how people are impacted by the names that their parents give them. And when you know little about a character besides their name, that serves as an excellent starting point to delve into their personality.
Case in point: I have a protagonist with the name Kätie Otersdorf.
First off, those little dots over the “a” mean that her name suggests both the English word “cat” and the German word for same, “katze.” And yes, she is reliably “catty” in her behavior and moods. The image of a stray cat in particular comes to mind; men would like to tame her, and think they can do so by kind words and petting. In the right mood, she encourages this; but then will suddenly change her mind and become aloof. Just like a cat, she serves no master, needs no keeper, and is capable of taking care of herself. She does seek intimacy, if only skittishly, and on her own terms.
Then, there’s the last name: Otersdorf. Frumpy and dour, that is. She got it from her father, whom she openly despises, and whom we are told is an odious, evil, powerful, scheming bureaucrat. The fact that her last name isn’t exactly “pretty” also jives with her self image. Katie is not unattractive, but she is not a natural beauty either. Her perception is that she has to work harder than other, more naturally graceful girls, to project attractiveness. Sometimes she bothers, sometimes she doesn’t. That fact that men come on to her anyway, she ascribes to their lecherousness and low standards, not her own physical beauty.
It is also true however that a person’s real persona is reflected in what alternate names people call them. I would submit that most of us have multiple names–and corresponding identities that go along with them.
There’s the official one on our ID card, which we may or may not use, but probably carries the full baggage of our childhood because that is what your teacher read aloud during roll-call; there may be a professional title by which we are addressed in a work setting, which we associate with our responsibilities and obligations; then there are the various nicknames given to us by friends of varying levels or intimacy, family members, and loved ones. Add to that, whatever your children happen to call you if you are a parent. My point is, when writing a real-life character, you can deliberately use all those variations to shape how they are presented, how they perceive themselves, or how other characters perceive them. And all that can (and probably should) vary from scene-to-scene.
Going back to Kätie, here is what I have other people call her:
She is “Kat” to men who desire some intimacy with her (trying to tame the alley cat)
She is “Nurse Katie” to her patients.
She is “Sister Katie” to her fellow nurses (to her face)
She is “Böse Kätie” (Nasty Katie), or “Herr General” to her fellow nurses (behind her back)
She is “Nurse Otersdorf” or “Miss Otersdorf” to her superiors, who mostly view her as a challenging HR problem to be solved.
The only people that actually call her “Kätie” are her best friend, and her eventual lover (the co-protagonist of the series). The latter, however, only calls her by that name after a long period of awkwardly clinging to the more formal “Miss Otersdorf,” which itself reflects his reluctance to acknowledge any intimacy with a woman who frequently and publicly challenges his authority.
I could go on, but I think I you get the point. Sorry for the long post, by the way, but I got up early (on my side of the pond) and have already drank ALOT of coffee. Have a nice weekend!
Nice subtleties, Vin. I took a look at your earlier posts about your WIP. It sounds like great fun and quite a challenge. It also amused me, because my cats are inspirations for some of the characters in the novel that’s coming up after the current WIP — very different from what you’re doing.
I discovered the helpful power of names. One of my characters just barged into my story without as much as a bye or leave. Dr. Hope is a 90 year old G.P. with a ‘European accent.’ A beta reader said ‘why the name Hope? It’s so English. Choose another name.’ I declined and said this character fought in the trenches for the Germans in the first world war, was interned in Belsen concentration camp in the second as a Jew, was rescued by a British squaddie who carried him to safety, and because of that he anglicised his name to Hope and still feels he must work for his patients to repay that kindness. Why am I happy? Because the beta reader then said “I wanna read this book!” Seriously, what writer wants to hear anything else?
I wanna read it too, R.J. Where are you with the ms?
Too kind Janet, on the strength of one name! The naming issue is indeed interesting – but so too is that wonderful moment when a character muscles in and takes over some of the story. I’m thirty k into a 90k novel. About 3k a chapter. It’s not quite so lazy as it sounds – I’m in the bad habit of writing my 3k chapter in 1-2 days – then editing for 3-4 weeks. Then beta readers and writing group, then final edit. I absolutely know I should just go for it – write the damned first draft, THEN edit the whole thing – but I’ve settled into this grinding routine of polishing each chapter as I go. That wasn’t so bad when each was an individual story – but now it’s turned into a proper planned novel – I’m on thin ice. I have it planned though, which is consolation. Whole 3-4k chapters have already hit the bin.
On the strength of what you said about the character. So he muscled in! That’s happened to me too. It is a wonderful moment. Have you heard Michael Ondaatje’s account of how Kip did that with him well into The English Patient?
It sounds like you’ve got a system that works pretty well for you. Why should you do anything if you have a decent system? I’m polishing a 130k ms, and the ice is not always so thick.
No – I hadn’t heard Michael’s account of Kip character. Where is it to be found? As to my system? I know a teetering baroque process when I see it! I have little faith in things that evolve – except creatures. Systems that evolve always become redundant, so I do need to take a fresh look at my way of working. Not least since I need the energy boost of arriving at that first draft finishing line.
I understand what you mean about the finish line. He mentioned it in an interview. I’ve seen several with him, and if you like, I’ll see if I can find the link.
I am writing a YA fantasy novel that is a gender-swapped, much elaborated version of the Rapunzel fairytale. The kidnapped boy is called Zell. The malevolent mage who conned Zell’s parents into giving him up as an infant is named István. Their last name, Varazslo, is a phonetic spelling of “wizard” in Hungarian. My family heritage is Hungarian, so I am using Magyar history and Hungarian fairytales to build the history and culture of my fantasy world. The name István Varazslo conveys menace to me, while still being plausible within the overall culture. István Varazslo is also the most complicated name of all the characters. That parallels the thematic contrast between his malevolent, manipulative nature and the relative innocence of my teenage protagonists.
Zell is eventually rescued by a teenage girl named Sabina Prenz. The novel is actually written from Sabina’s perspective and the Rapunzel storyline & backstory are not revealed to readers until a twist ~1/2 way through the story. I chose Prenz as her last name because it fits within the culture I have created, but (I hope) is not so blatant as to scream her role at readers before the twist is revealed.
Very inventive, Adrianne. István Varazslo suggests menace to me too. A marvellous idea to recast genders in fairy tales. Where are you with the ms? I will read it.
I’m fascinated by languages. I lived in Prague in the late ’80s/early ’90s and through a friend, met an American woman who was married to a Hungarian. Czech is already a very difficult lanuage, and that’s partly due to its 32 prefixes and many suffixes. The woman told me that Hungarian even has infixes, and I was amazed, until I realised that Czech has them too!
Not a heated debate, Harry. You inspired a very congenial exchange this time!
Good afternoon Harry,
This is great, my meditation reopened my thoughts to what characters name will be useful. It may be as simple as eating an apple it pop up or something make me laugh. Most importantly is just to write the idea down. Due to the fact that even though all relevant relationship between themselves is strictly business/romance etc. who knows what dramatic turn the story may take.
That why writing is a wonderful way of expression which should bring you tears of joy.
In my early teens book, The Mystery of Far Anchor Bay, everyone is named after a crater on the Moon. Haldane, Wilkins, Herschel…endless possibilites, The one thing I don’t like are long complex names in SciFi or Fantasy. Just makes it hard to read. In the SciFi, The God Of Edever all the names are simple. Jax, Harrid, Marcol, Hoag, Grain etc. None of them give away the type of character they are. At the end of the day, it‘s a personal preference I guess. Back in the day, when I read Harry Potter, I was devastated when someone told me the name wasn’t pronounced Her Me On. So perhaps my quest for simplicity arises from my inability to read properly.