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 …
I often write historical fiction, which means many characters are historical figures. My first book I’m attempting to publish features two main characters, whom this response will concentrate on. The first, Hank Larsen. Hank is based on Tom Hanks, whose youthful stage character and general appearance this character is fashioned after. Hank is born and raised in Minnesota in a Lutheran family, which makes Larsen a natural last name. The pair, Hank Larsen has a good ring to it. The second, Brizo (Zoe) Van Winkel. Brizo is the Greek goddess of dreams, waters and mariners. As all three are central to both her character and the plot, the name is natural. She does not like the name though, so usually refers to herself as Zoe. Van Winkel is a personal embarrassment to her, but it is fitting as she as a character is imprisoned in her past, lives in it, and seeks release from it.
I use a lot of variety in coming up with names. Names from literature are often used; Bonnie Blue, for a secondary character, from Gone With The Wind, as an example. Pluto Wayburn is one of your placard names, only it is applied to a secondary character who is an enthusiastic Christian convert who is embarrassed by his name. The name should fit the crime. . . er, character.
In my yet to be published first novel (stole that from an earlier comment) everyone had a name but the narrator. I couldn’t connect to her or even like her and nor could anyone else that read the earlier drafts. Although I have never had a problem not knowing the name of the second Mrs de Winter in Rebecca I think that that novel is an exception. Giving a name gets me personally involved; my characters are no longer abstract. I gave the narrator her name on the final page of an early draft and I as I rewrote it the narrator became real to me; she has annoying traits but I now understand her and hopefully my readers do as well. She has her name on the first page now.
When I started my current work in progress I knew that she had to have a name from the outset. She christened herself and made a very good choice. The name is now woven into the story and many of the other protagonists actually share the same name (they hide this and use pseudonyms). One of the chapters in my latest scribble is “What‘s in a Name”
When it comes to choosing names for my dystopian fiction I confess to doing google searches for name meanings so that I can find the perfect name to represent the character and their qualities or how they fit into the narrative, such choices may be well over the head of most readers but it amuses me. Example is Edmund as a somewhat duplicit character named after Edmund in King Lear. Although one of the main protagonists in my first is known by his surname; King; which I put down to wine and too many games of Candy Crush the night before I started writing it. But he could never, ever have had another name.
When it comes to my short stories I think of the personality and choose the name best suited without any depth of meaning although if I look deeper the names probably typify the character that I am bringing to life on the page – I try not to think too much about it or I might risk offending everyone that I know who shares those names.
Edmund may not be as nefarious as his King Lear namesake, but I’m happy for my reader to think that. Personally, I’ve not decided yet – I’m only half way through writing it and looking forward to finding out
And then of course readers will bring their own associations to names. Your Edmund is duplicitous, but with a child of that name who is anything but, I will read it differently.
Call me old-fashioned, but I love names that suggest something about a person. I just finished a draft that has a Prudence Love as a B character, the protagonist’s best friend. She is punctual, organised, straight forward, structured. But she just cannot resist the opportunity of one night stands, or one afternoon stands, or whatever time of day she can get her hands on good looking young men willing to show her a good time. But that doesn’t harm the men’s reputations, they have nothing to worry about, because she never will kiss and tell.
Great reflection on naming Harry! Made my day. Again.
I struggle to think of character names, but for my current WIP (which is fantasy, so needs non-traditional names) I have devised a method. I think of a word to describe the character and put that into Google Translate then scroll through all the foreign words until I find one I like. So, for example, the venerable grandfather is called Hajaina (‘respected’ in Malagasy), the patient stableboy who helps the MC overcome her horse phobia is Farishi (angel in Uzbek). Her younger brother is named after the Lithanian word for minor (Nepilnametis), and her kindly aunt is Andarna (spirit in Swedish).
Of course, having no actual knowledge of any of these languages, and considering how unreliable Google Translate is reputed to be – these could all be nonsense anyway.
What a great method! Love this idea. You could go one step further and spell it differently than the transliterated version the dictionary will give you so that you distance yourself from that language and an inadvertent set of cultural expectations, if you felt that was something you wanted to do. Sometimes I will spell names phonetically.
For my TOKEN STONE series I use a variety of ways the describe the characters. The story is set in the late Neolithic of Britain and Ireland so I have tried to make the names consistent with how I imagine they would be. Some describe a persons activity; Ferryman, Navigator, FireStarter, others from their personal qualities; Whisper, Stalker, Skirmish, Bellow. Where I wanted to suggest a characters origin I used two devices. The names Brodger, Ness, MaesHowe and Skarra, for example, have associations with their origins in Orkney, whereas names such as Shard of the Red Bog, Eagle of the Moors, Olendi of the Waters and Fallow of the Snows, locate them in the story.
Sounds like something I’d love to read.
Hi Silver, great to hear from you. What are you working on at the moment.
I’m am, as yet, an unpublished writer with higher aspirations. My story is about a five-year-old with a disfigured face. Hence she is regarded as a curse and housed in a cage. When the cage is finally broken open a banshee emerges, more animal than human. Things begin to change however when something similar to a twelve-year-old girl comes out of the caves of the White Mountain and rescues her. What the banshee doesn’t know is that her new friend is already over a thousand years old.
Having edited and re-written it numerous times, I am about ready to see if I can find an agent.
Would love to hear more about your work. Have you already been published? Keep in touch Silver. (great name)
I try and use real life names if I can, period names from contemporaneous works or newspapers. Certainly one way to make things different is to turn around a perception of character based on name, i.e. making the villain/s of the piece George and/or Mildred, or even Ethel and Albert (Arbuckle). Most people (and thus most villains) have truly ordinary names. I do however on occasion draw inspiration from their jobs, or traits and manners e.g. Mr Grey for someone who is uncertain/sitting on the fence. Of course there is nothing new in that as you pointed out. Some modern works of fiction have worked very well by having obvious names but turning them on their heads. Mark Evans did this most excellently with his characters. Im sure there is no wrong way, though some will work better than others.
My novel is narrated by a secondary character involved, in a parallel fashion, with the primary character, but I don’t plan on revealing his name, which is a comment on the fact that he is a Bwabach, and those folk aren’t keen to have anyone know their names. Somewhere along the line, I plan to explain this as one of the customs of that realm. When I name other characters, however, I prefer to give names that lend a hint to the character themselves….something along the lines of a mood that the character brings to the story. It has more to do with how the name feels when I roll it around in my mouth, and whether or not the sounds are soft, sharp or smoky. Being a synesthesiac, it’s what appeals to me. I need to keep my characters interesting to my own eyes and ears so I can finish the darn thing. I’ve had a lifetime of writer’s cramp (which is a generous way of saying writer’s sloth, perhaps.)
No method. See what feels right. But what feels right often seems to contain some buried half-pun or linguistic suggestion. But the main thing is to have a variety of names: some odd, some very ordinary, some typical of the type of character. Like life. But above all there can’t be two that are similar to each other, that the reader could confuse. She needs every assistance. There may be many characters. So the initial letters, numbers of syllables, phonemes (?) need to be shared out. If you’ve got Bill Jones you can’t have Bob James.
I gather names from various sources. At some point I’m, sure a “Harry” will be used whether he will be a good guy, bad guy, or victim will depend on my mood at the moment. Minor characters only get a given name so that helps. I have a notebook of names I think are usable and if I get stuck I look at those names, paring a given name with someone else’s surname and cross those off of the list.
In my books I decided my pathologist will ease job stress with tasteless morgue humor so he was named Keith Jones. I went to school with Brian Kent Jones who was a Library of tasteless jokes so I slightly modified the name and passed it on. Two very good friends, brother and sister, with the surname of Strong entered book two with their middle names and Stout for the surname. Others have inspired characters and their names reflect the real person. Doing that helps keep me on track with their particular (or peculiar) personality. My main detective, Myron Baggs, came from another series of books I started then gave up on. A wizard used the by-word “BAGS!” and was frequently reprimanded for “Using such disgusting language in front of women”. I don’t know why I liked the word so much but Lieutenant Baggs came to be.
My best happened at a former job: I was scribbling notes during lunch when a coworker asked what I was writing. That led to, “Wow I want my name in a book! Will you write in a person with my name?” So Matt Olifson was worked into a chapter. However the more I read the name in print the more ideas Muse handed me. Matt was removed from the WIP and entered book two as the antagonist, Mo. After finally getting a name the detectives spend days unsuccessfully searching for men with names that Mo could be short for: “Morey”, “Monty”, “Maurice” . . .
The most difficult name problem I hope to have solved by next year. Do I want “Cal Cutter”, Calvin Cutter”, or “Calvin R. Cutter” on the jacket? I used to be indecisive but I don’t think I am anymore.