I find names fascinating, and when the lists of the most popular are published every year, I always take a look at the statistics charting current fashions. When I was teaching, more than twenty years ago, half the school seemed to be called either Mark or Vicki: now, it's Jack and Olivia. But the top 100 won't tell you the really interesting things: the uncommon, the unusual and the downright weird.
All a matter of fashion, of course: sixty or seventy years ago, the name 'Hugh' featured in the lists, now it's so rare he's the only one at his school. 'Patrick' is a bit more common - and of course very common in certain areas, Ireland and Scotland for instance. Some of the names current in late Victorian times are gaining popularity - Daisy, Maisie, Ruby, and sturdy traditional boys' names like Edward, Thomas and, yes, Jack. My second and third names are in honour of my grandmothers - Dorothy (not back in) and Alice (very trendy now). I've always thanked God that my mother's mother was Alice Bertha and not the other way about. Being called Dotty Alice at school was bad enough.
'There are some names that'll never come back into fashion,' said one of my colleagues the other day, looking at the library ticket of a borrower called Norman. I think the Tory party, circa 1985, killed that one off for good. We had fun making a list: Ethel, Doris, Herbert, Ernest, once the names of proud young people fighting World Wars, now probably attached to someone in a nursing home. 'Bruce,' someone said, though I think there may be quite a few still in Scotland, and possibly Australia. In fact, a recent survey lamented the disappearance of such 'traditional' names as Walter, Percy (no surprise why that one has fallen out of favour), Clifford, Arnold and Leonard and, for the girls, Gertrude, Edna, Olive and Agnes. Apparently Elsie is also in danger (a surprise, as I know several) Sidney (there was one at the village school) and Florence (also becoming more popular). There is a family locally with children called Florence, Wilfrid and Stanley - what a name to be saddled with!
When we were thinking of names for our children we spent a lot of time agonising over it. Some are good in both long and short forms (Alexander, for instance) while others are fine until you remember how they're usually abbreviated. One of my teaching colleagues called her son Gary because it didn't have a shortening, only to find he was 'Gaz' to his school friends. Teachers find it difficult anyway, because lots of possibles have to be discarded because of their connotations. I never taught an Andrew who wasn't a problem, for example, and Daniels weren't far behind. There was a girl called Krishna, from a white British family: rather like a Hindu couple naming their daughter Jesus, I thought. Her brothers were Zachary and Isaac. I could never understand why Bryan Ferry called his eldest son after a lift, until I realised that Otis Redding was being honoured (and presumably, for the next son, Isaac Hayes). Some names are really hard to bear, which is why we gave our boys fairly ordinary second names (Nicholas and Luke respectively) so that they could change if they wanted. My sister, fed up with being called Penny at school, became Vicki when she went to college. I'd have changed mine if I'd had a reasonable alternative, but Dotty Alice was even worse than what everyone already knew me as. At least I was born female: if a boy, I'd have been called Rupert. Much as I love Rupert of the Rhine, that would have been truly awful.
In the course of library work, I come across quite a few kids with unusual and often rather nice names. There are quite a few Freys and Freyas (we had a cat called Freya), a Raven, several Kais, Rowan (a boy), Phoebe, brothers called Thorfinn and Magnus (with no Norse connection) and a family with boys called Dylan, Donovan and Rafferty (I asked her if she was int0 60s and 70s folk-rock, and she looked at me in bewilderment). The traditional names of Scotland, Ireland and Wales always prove a fertile hunting ground for people looking for something a bit different. Though 'Kevin' appears to have a rather higher status in the US (think Costner and Kline) than it does here (think footballer and Harry Enfield).
The US sends names back to us, of course, and some of them seem to be given to children without any thought as to what they actually mean. Do parents really want to call their son after someone who fixes the roof (Tyler) or their daughter after the man who makes suits (Taylor)? Or the stony field (Stanley) or a wagon (Wayne)? How about the fastest-rising name, Riley (as in life of)? Mind you, good meanings don't always make for good names: Ethel is the Anglo-Saxon for 'noble'. I was amused that when Tom Stoppard wrote the screenplay for 'Shakespeare in Love' (one of my favourite films) he made the original title of one of Shakespeare's most famous plays 'Romeo and Ethel the Pirate's Daughter'. In that case, an Ethel by any other name (except possibly Gertrude) would be sweeter.
All a matter of fashion, of course: sixty or seventy years ago, the name 'Hugh' featured in the lists, now it's so rare he's the only one at his school. 'Patrick' is a bit more common - and of course very common in certain areas, Ireland and Scotland for instance. Some of the names current in late Victorian times are gaining popularity - Daisy, Maisie, Ruby, and sturdy traditional boys' names like Edward, Thomas and, yes, Jack. My second and third names are in honour of my grandmothers - Dorothy (not back in) and Alice (very trendy now). I've always thanked God that my mother's mother was Alice Bertha and not the other way about. Being called Dotty Alice at school was bad enough.
'There are some names that'll never come back into fashion,' said one of my colleagues the other day, looking at the library ticket of a borrower called Norman. I think the Tory party, circa 1985, killed that one off for good. We had fun making a list: Ethel, Doris, Herbert, Ernest, once the names of proud young people fighting World Wars, now probably attached to someone in a nursing home. 'Bruce,' someone said, though I think there may be quite a few still in Scotland, and possibly Australia. In fact, a recent survey lamented the disappearance of such 'traditional' names as Walter, Percy (no surprise why that one has fallen out of favour), Clifford, Arnold and Leonard and, for the girls, Gertrude, Edna, Olive and Agnes. Apparently Elsie is also in danger (a surprise, as I know several) Sidney (there was one at the village school) and Florence (also becoming more popular). There is a family locally with children called Florence, Wilfrid and Stanley - what a name to be saddled with!
When we were thinking of names for our children we spent a lot of time agonising over it. Some are good in both long and short forms (Alexander, for instance) while others are fine until you remember how they're usually abbreviated. One of my teaching colleagues called her son Gary because it didn't have a shortening, only to find he was 'Gaz' to his school friends. Teachers find it difficult anyway, because lots of possibles have to be discarded because of their connotations. I never taught an Andrew who wasn't a problem, for example, and Daniels weren't far behind. There was a girl called Krishna, from a white British family: rather like a Hindu couple naming their daughter Jesus, I thought. Her brothers were Zachary and Isaac. I could never understand why Bryan Ferry called his eldest son after a lift, until I realised that Otis Redding was being honoured (and presumably, for the next son, Isaac Hayes). Some names are really hard to bear, which is why we gave our boys fairly ordinary second names (Nicholas and Luke respectively) so that they could change if they wanted. My sister, fed up with being called Penny at school, became Vicki when she went to college. I'd have changed mine if I'd had a reasonable alternative, but Dotty Alice was even worse than what everyone already knew me as. At least I was born female: if a boy, I'd have been called Rupert. Much as I love Rupert of the Rhine, that would have been truly awful.
In the course of library work, I come across quite a few kids with unusual and often rather nice names. There are quite a few Freys and Freyas (we had a cat called Freya), a Raven, several Kais, Rowan (a boy), Phoebe, brothers called Thorfinn and Magnus (with no Norse connection) and a family with boys called Dylan, Donovan and Rafferty (I asked her if she was int0 60s and 70s folk-rock, and she looked at me in bewilderment). The traditional names of Scotland, Ireland and Wales always prove a fertile hunting ground for people looking for something a bit different. Though 'Kevin' appears to have a rather higher status in the US (think Costner and Kline) than it does here (think footballer and Harry Enfield).
The US sends names back to us, of course, and some of them seem to be given to children without any thought as to what they actually mean. Do parents really want to call their son after someone who fixes the roof (Tyler) or their daughter after the man who makes suits (Taylor)? Or the stony field (Stanley) or a wagon (Wayne)? How about the fastest-rising name, Riley (as in life of)? Mind you, good meanings don't always make for good names: Ethel is the Anglo-Saxon for 'noble'. I was amused that when Tom Stoppard wrote the screenplay for 'Shakespeare in Love' (one of my favourite films) he made the original title of one of Shakespeare's most famous plays 'Romeo and Ethel the Pirate's Daughter'. In that case, an Ethel by any other name (except possibly Gertrude) would be sweeter.
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