Names

[Hilda]

"In another few pages Vicky will be contacted by someone working for British intelligence. I'll deal with the operative's name when I come to it."

Sounds like a Liam or Jules fav, Colin.

I agree with Staci. Or perhaps Nigel, e.g. Nigel St. Cloud?

To Hilda's point, I agree that too many writers -- especially amateur erotic fiction writers -- overthink names, and come up with something that sounds silly.

We must be on the same wavelength. I used the name "Richard James St Clair" in another novel. Not an intelligence operative, but a millionaire art collector who heads an occult group.

What sounds odd to me are some of the informal first names that Chinese folk (PRC, Taiwan, and Singapore) choose for themselves. I was once introduced to a lady called Ethel, and the CEO of the Moondrop audio company calls himself Herbert. Neither of them Christians, as far as I know.

[Pornhubby]

Thorndyke
Sherman
Boris
Sergei

[Raceway]

I'm re-reading one of my favourite novels, and yet again I'm wishing that the author had made a different choice of character names.

The story begins in the head office of a large bank. Two senior managers are discussing how they should deal with the young man waiting outside. One manager is stout, the other is skinny. The former is called Fleming and the latter Parr.

Only a few paragraphs later I was trying to remember which was Fleming and which was Parr. Maybe a name with one or two nice, round vowels would help to tag the stout man, and a name with crisp consonants would identify the skinny one.

Some authors choose ominous-sounding names for the bad guys, and heroic-sounding names for the good guys. Or old-fashioned names for old-fashioned people, or trendy names for trendy people. Glamour models and porn stars also have a penchant for choosing memorable names.

Today I came across a '60s model who called herself Bea Bea Chu Chu. How's that for a "Wow!" name?

[Raceway]

A quotation that reminded me of the Weimar Republic cabaret scenes in the German TV series "Babylon Berlin".

It comes from the autobiography of a lady who was approximately nineteen or twenty when she left her family in Canada and moved to Boston.

She and her friends were to furnish me with a liberal education. As soon as the studio was ready we had a party. She said it would give me a chance to meet some “regular fellows.” The fellows I met however were most irregular. They were girls, fourteen of them, dressed to look—in so far as they could manage it—like boys. They made the necessary concession to the law with their skirts. For the rest they wore boy’s coats, hats, shirts, collars and ties. They were called Sammy, Chappie, Billie, Johnnie, etc. They threw their hats on the floor, showing their very mannish hair cut. They had tried to cultivate deep voices, but in this effort they were unsuccessful. They smoked incessantly; until you couldn’t see across the room. They drank gin like water. They berated men. Men were a sort of luxury the world didn’t need. They did admit that men were necessary to keep the race going, but they thought that women who wanted to be free had a right to turn their backs on the race. They posed as Lesbians; but I am sure there was not a Lesbian amongst them. I think any serious suggestion of Lesbianism would have sent them flying to cover. They were simply would-be modern girls who had to rebel against everything that existed solely because it existed.

Life and Loves of a Prodigal Daughter. London: Baronte Press, 1935. pp.88-9.