Naming Rites

"Daley announced that, beginning in 2004, all new housing developments in the Chicago area will be numbered with a positive integer."
- The Onion, "Chicago Out Of Names For Subdivisions"

Early in the lifetime of this weblog, I wrote about the importance of creators giving workable, if not carefully-chosen, names to the people that populate their worlds. Even if you have stellar, praiseworthy prose, if you give your characters names like "Bob Dingusdingus" or "Big McLargehuge" outside of a specifically comedic context, you're likely to run into trouble. The reason why isn't that complicated - people have an intrinsic familiarity with names, and something that sounds wrong in an inappropriate setting is going to squeal like a violin in a wood chipper.

Place names, on the other hand, don't always fall into this - particularly so in science fiction, and especially so in the earlier days of pulp and wide-media science fiction. Star Trek, the original 1960s series, may be one of the better-known examples of this. The episode that came on last night reminded me of this: it saw the Enterprise crew dealing with the strange civilization on the planet Beta III. Indeed, it seems to have been something of a tradition in the original series for planets to be some permutation of "Greek letter + Roman numeral."

You don't see this in other kinds of series; though my knowledge of the fantasy genre is admittedly shallow, I doubt any fantasy author worth their typewriter would try to get away with building a fantasy world with places like the "Kingdom of B" or "Z City." That is, after all, all that Greek letters are; letters. In the astronomical context, they're meaningless without a constellation. Modern science fiction is much better with this, to the extent that I really can't think of any franchises other than Star Trek or Babylon 5 that really did the whole "Alpha Constellation III" thing to any significant degree.

Personally, I have trouble understanding why it was done in the first place. The idea of stellar catalogs already existed at that point, and while designations like "HD 98618 b" can be obtuse and perhaps not the best thing to cram into an actor's mouth, it's not like that's the only option. I never understood why outside of a few particular contexts, Star Trek and science fiction like it seemed to be so allergic to giving individual planets their own proper names... Earth instead of Sol III, and so on. Even when it did, it was almost always because the native species had already been named - so the Vulcans are from Vulcan, the Andorians are from Andoria, the Bajorans are from Bajor, and by inference humans are thus obviously from Huma.

To me, it's not that it's just uncreative naming... it feels artificial. Is it really that difficult to come up with a name that can stand on its own?

State Your Name, State

Ever since the 1970s, the picture of political fault lines in Canada has been rather simple - the borders of Quebec. It's the only province that's actually attempted to separate from Canada, and future histories often include an independent Quebec and multiple Canadian provinces joining the United States as a result. It seems to me that it's commonly American authors that project this - as if Quebec is the glue that holds Canada together. As a Canadian, I can say that's not so. Personally I would prefer to see Quebec remain an integral part of Canada, but an independent Quebec would not lead to Canada's collapse. I tend to agree with Will Ferguson's ideas on this in Why I Hate Canadians - that "separation would bring the regions of Canada closer together, like a trauma survivors' support group."

But it's an interesting thing to speculate about, nonetheless - the hows and whys and whethers of Canada coming apart at the seams, and what's left when the dust clears. It's something that's been rattling around in my brain ever since I moved out west. While I consider the idea of Ontario seceding from Canada faintly ridiculous - I'd find it far more believable for provinces to secede piecemeal until Ontario is the last one standing, to get away from Ontario if nothing else - I'm not the first one to consider the possibility of the western provinces going their own way. Hell, there have been political parties dedicated to the concept.

The only question I have is this - what the hell would you call the result?

It's an important question - they'd have to replace the marker at the Blaine/Surrey crossing, you know. It says "Canada" on the other side.

Quebec has it easy - they wouldn't have needed any time to pick out a name upon gaining independence; just "Republique du Quebec" would have worked out perfectly. Indeed, if individual provinces separate, there's no real need to select a new country name. The problem arises in the event of multiple provinces separating and making a go of it themselves as a new unified state, when there's no unified term that already describes them.

Take British Columbia. On its own, it might not have the best shot at independent statehood... but if things have got so bad in Ottawa that BC is voting to lower the Maple Leaf, Alberta is likely several steps ahead. It's not a massive leap to suggest that in this hypothetical future, Alberta and British Columbia choose to go it alone together - thus introducing the issue of a unified name. So far as I am aware, at least, there's no existing geographical or political term that describes BC and Alberta alone.

The Transhuman Space setting did this as part of its background, breaking up Canada into its constituent parts. The union of Alberta and British Columbia was called... the Union of Alberta and British Columbia. This is what you get when there's no existing terms to apply - uninspired names. Plus, what the hell would a citizen of that country call themselves? An Albertan and British Columbian? An ABCer? A Unionist? It would be so much easier if Washington and Oregon could be brought in - then the resulting state could use Cascadia, simple and clear, but the US government would likely have words about that particular arrangement.

So what else is there? Something like Pacifica, which does not really sound like a state name that could be taken seriously - and besides, it doesn't describe the Alberta half of the new state at all. Perhaps the Republic of the Rocky Mountains would work better - there's shared geography right there - but again, what do you call its citizens? Rocks? Rockies? Mountaineers?

It might be easier, in the end, to echo the naming conventions of the Civil War, where no one stopped being American just because of national borders. "Canada" is a geographical expression as much as it is a nation - a western state could easily call itself something like, say, the Allied Provinces of Canada.

Personally, I hope this is something I never have to worry about. But it's interesting to consider.

Assuming Anonymity

One of the prime truths of science fiction is that no matter what it is you write, it will become dated somehow or another thanks to the assumptions you used. Authors whose plots rested on the existence of a twenty-first century Soviet Union are well aware of this, and instances where science marches on are as common as dandelions throughout the genre. One of the reasons this happens so often is because we're just incapable of predicting what's really here to stay - and sometimes I worry that important things will fall by the wayside as the years tick over. Like, say... anonymity.

More specifically, the basic right - and I believe this is a right, even though you won't find it in any constitution or charter - to go out without everyone you encounter knowing your name, whether they know you or not.

I got on this angle thanks to an article that was passed on to me from TorrentFreak, "Anti-Piracy Tool For Cinemas Will Recognize Emotions." The security measures it talks about aren't familiar to me: it may be that Canadian theatres are behind the curve, because I've never encountered bag inspections or metal detectors at the Cineplex. Reading the details of what's in the pipeline, though - I'll stop short of "enraged," but it did anger me. Using the foundation provided by anti-piracy systems to gather marketing data, to judge how the audience reacts to different things.

I'd be very tempted to wear heavy sunglasses to spoof the system just for the sake of it - because, really, who the hell are you to lean down over me, gleaning meaning from every move I make and jotting it down in some file "to improve the moviegoers' experience" or some such drivel? If I want you to know my opinion, I'll damn well give it to you. That sort of concealment, then, would be the only way I can think of to get around it; they wouldn't really let you opt out the ordinary way.

This dude has the right idea, whoever he may be.

The freedom of opting out is the key to ensuring that you have an equitable system. What worries me, and what this project reminded me of, is the danger of augmented reality systems being linked with sophisticated facial recognition software. It's not hard to imagine a program, always running, that tries to recognize and search down every single face you see on the street. I can think of absolutely no good reason why the average person would want this kind of program, or why the average person should have this kind of program - but there are people who'd want it anyway.

Yet names are important. Names are valuable. The prospect of someone being able to know who I am without knowing me, without having encountered me before, with no connection to me whatsoever just because they can dredge some tagged photos of me out of the internet, to me smacks as a violation of my essential personal liberty. I believe everyone should have the right to be anonymous in the crowd. How far away are we from this, really?

In Their Own Names

Fifty years ago, five men died while working in a watermain in what became known as the Hoggs Hollow Disaster. It helped pave the way to better workers' rights in Ontario, and last week a memorial quilt was unveiled in York Mills subway station - adjacent to the site of the disaster - to commemorate it. Torontoist made a detailed and well-written post about the disaster and its background last Saturday, far more detailed than the simple historical plaque the city installed at the disaster site some time ago.

One particular part of it infuriated me, and it was completely unexpected. I'm not criticizing Torontoist's work, though. What I refer to specifically is a clipping they include from the March 24, 1960 edition of the Toronto Telegram, part of that paper's coverage of the disaster. It's a diagram of the underground works, centered around the five bodies that were ultimately found by rescuers.

The five men who died in that watermain in 1960 were Italian immigrants, hardly uncommon in the postwar Toronto. Their names, if nothing else, make it clear - Pasquale Allegrezza, Giovanni Correglio, Giovanni Fusillo, Alessandro Mantella, and Guido Mantella. In 2010 they're totally unremarkable, but in 1960, Toronto was just beginning to become a magnet for immigrants to Canada. While the transition from the nineteenth century's "Methodist Rome" to the multicultural city of today was remarkably smooth, there had to have been cultural issues at the time to work through.

That's what I see in the Telegram's 1960 diagram. Where the bodies are identified, they're identified as belonging to Pasqualle [sic] Alegrezza, John Correglio, John Fusillo, Alexander Mantella, and Guido Mantella. Presumably Pasquale and Guido were permitted to keep their names because "Pascal" and "Guy" still sounded foreign to the Toronto-Anglo ear of 1960. Granted, I don't know if the three simply took English names to make things easier - it's a definite possibility, though that diagram is the only place I've seen the three given Anglo names - but this is about showing respect for the dead. The least the Telegram could have done would to report on their deaths using their actual names.

I talked about this with my roommate afterward, for perspective; he's usually the one who breaks down things I have difficulty comprehending. One possibility we hashed out was that it was a manifestation of cultural chauvinism - that the English names were used, where they could be easily switched out, to make it easier for readers to relate to them as people. In 1960, if you were a white Torontonian, "Giovanni" may well have been just some strange, unfathomable foreigner, while "John" could just as easily be your next-door neighbor. It's the sort of thing that's been going on for centuries - how many Canadians and Americans were taught about John Cabot, say, rather than Giovanni Caboto? I didn't even realize he was Italian until I was far older than I should have done, just because of the name alone.

We may, finally, be moving out of that, and it's about time. For Toronto in particular, demographics are shifting, and any name could belong to your neighbor. In times long past, people began to believe that names have power. It's absolutely true. Names are powerful things to shape our perceptions of the world, and it behooves us to treat them with the respect due them.

Words About Words: Naming Yesterday and Tomorrow

"Commander Lyons!" a red-faced, portly man boomed, grabbing his limp hand. "I am Abner Connaught, elected President of the World-State, in your absence. In the name of the peoples of Earth, I welcome you."
- H.L. Gold, "Hero" (1939)

People have known throughout history that names have power. The right name can inspire confidence, open doors to success, and clear the pathways to a charmed life. While names have become another method of personal or individual expression in the West today - witness the obsession some people have with coming up with "unique" or "original" names for their children - that doesn't mean they're any less important, or any less worth of careful consideration. This holds true for authors just as much as it does for prospective parents.

Character naming is an important step in the world-building process, and I think it should be done carefully - rather than just jam together the first personal name and surname that come to mind, I find it's worthwhile to take the extra time to figure out a name that works. I like names that have a resonance to my ear, carrying subtle meanings if I feel like putting down another layer, and which are either common or nonexistent on a web search. It's a reward of its own, putting together a name that no one else has.

Not all names are created equal, though. While some, such as John, Sarah, Andrew, or Mary, have been relatively popular and fashionable for centuries, there are others that are deeply associated with a particular time period. Take, for example, the quote leading off this post. The concept of a World-State is something that's always been a hallmark of an enlightened futuristic setting, but there it's set off by its leader being named Abner - a name which was prominent in the late nineteenth century, but unheard of today. The same is true of names like Horace and Mabel, Percy or Mildred - names which suffered a precipitous decline in popularity around the turn of the century, to the extent that they're almost entirely associated with the elderly segment of society. In 1939 it was a different story, sure, but seventy years later it's just another datum that dates the work.

Science fiction tends to be forward-looking and preoccupied with the future. That is, after all, one of its prime goals. It follows, then, that the names of people who inhabit these futures are important in setting the stage, and authors who want to avoid tying their future to a particular era overly tightly would do well to look at history, and the nature of how the popularity of names waxes and wanes. After all, what name sounds more believable for the square-jawed 21st- or 22nd-century science fiction hero, Peter or Cuthbert?

Of course, societies change. By 2100, "Peter" and "Cuthbert" could be equally out of fashion. If you're dealing with characters coming from a Western background, however, one potential source of names that have an "otherworldly" flair without historical baggage is the ultimate source for Peter and Abner both - the Bible. Though many popular names in Western cultures have Biblical roots, not all Biblical names are currently popular. Nehemiah, for instance, seems to have been at least somewhat obscure when Robert A. Heinlein chose it for President Nehemiah Scudder, the architect of a 21st-century American theocracy, in 1940's If This Goes On—. Rizpah, a feminine Biblical name, doesn't yet seem to have gained much popularity, but is one that could plausibly come into greater use in the future.

Names have been known to rebound, as well. Phoebe, for example, steadily declined in popularity over the course of the 20th century, only to spike with a vengeance in the 1990s, presumably due to the success of Friends. In a few more decades, many "old peoples' names" may have lost their current connotations and find newfound popularity - all it takes, after all, is one sufficiently high-profile character or celebrity baby to kick-start a name's rise or renaissance.

Ultimately, it comes down to how the author wants the audience of the day to react to the world. If the story's set in, say, 2095, and the author wants it to come across as conservative and past-oriented in mindset, a good way to cement that feeling might be to populate it with Horaces and Ednas, Berthas and Wilburs.

Name popularity curve information in this post was derived from NameVoyager at the Baby Name Wizard, a tool which graphically represents the highs and lows of name popularity from the 1880s to 2008, presumably within the United States. It's pretty cool; you should totally check it out.

Earlier Words About Words:

• Consistency Through Prereading

Meus Nomen Est: Strange Names, Inc.

Names are important. After all, even the lowliest wizard knows that to know something's true name gives you power over it. Every one in a while, Acts of Minor Treason takes time to look at examples of names, true or not, of things of various kinds. Despite four years of high school Latin, no guarantees are given on the accuracy of the title.

Even more so than its management slate or share capitalization, the case can be made that its name is the most valuable thing a modern corporation owns. Names inspire recognition and loyalty, and the reputation accrued by a rock-solid name can make or break deals around the world.

Sometimes, though, those rock-solid names are just plain odd. I've come across a few myself in my time. Today, thanks to the company profile listing maintained on SEDAR, the System for Electronic Data Analysis and Retrieval - an online database of regulatory news from publicly-traded reporting issuers on Canadian stock exchanges - anyone can come across them, and wonder.

Orko Silver Corp.: It may be because I'm from the '80s, but when I hear "Orko," the first thing I think is "He-Man's comic-relief spell-slinging buddy who also happens to have no legs and wears a shirt with his initial on it." Nevertheless, Orko Silver has been plugging away in the mining business since August 5, 1983. Seeing as how the character Orko's first appearance was in the He-Man and the Masters of the Universe cartoon series, which did not begin airing until September 26, 1983, it seems to be less a case of a startup silver company naming itself after a children's cartoon character and more of a coincidence. There is, after all, apparently an ancient Basque deity also named Orko, though Encyclopedia Mythica is silent on whether he has anything to do with silver.

Canadian Mining Company Inc.: It's shocking, I know, but despite its name CMC does not control the mining industry in Canada. In fact, by the time of its formation in 1987, there were already a bunch of Canadian mining companies - though, I must say, none of them were forward-looking enough to actually call themselves that.

Uldaman Capital Corp.: It is distinctly possible that, prior to November 23, 2004, "Uldaman" already meant something. It'd be pretty damn hard for me to tell if that's the case now, though, as on that day in November, Blizzard's massively-multiplayer game World of Warcraft launched with Uldaman as one of the game's multiple five-player dungeon instances. SEDAR sets Uldaman Capital Corp.'s foundation at January 16, 2006, which makes me wonder two things: first, if it was founded by a group of WoW fans, and second, whether three-manning Archaedas is a prerequisite to getting on the Board of Directors.

D-FENSE CAPITAL LTD.: I can't even tell what this company does; SEDAR classifies it as "other." Seeing as how it was established in February 2005, it is within the realm of possibility that its founders were fans of the 1993 Michael Douglas film Falling Down.

GST Telecommunications, Inc.: This name would have been pretty innocuous when the company was formed back in 1987. Four years later, Brian Mulroney's new Goods and Services Tax gave all Canadians a reason to look at the letters "GST" askance. It says something for their persistence that they haven't changed their name, I think.

While some of these names may be odd, or have unintended connotations, there's nothing particularly wrong with them. That's not the case with this next strangely-named company, the last one I'll be looking at today.

Zero-Knowledge Systems Inc.

Yes, really.

You would think that the negative implications of such a name would be immediately apparent. What's more, SEDAR lists them as having formed earlier than any other company on this list, with their incorporation taking place way back on January 1, 1500. It's comforting to think that well before Jacques Cartier and Samuel de Champlain made their first pioneering voyages to what would become New France, Zero-Knowledge Systems was already making Montreal a center of industrial products, technology, and software. It's since changed its name to Radialpoint, apparently, but... come on.