Deciding to test his identification skills, I pointed at one of these very distinctive creatures and asked the little lad, ‘Do you know what that bird’s called?'
He screwed his little face up deep in concentration for a few seconds and then ventured, ‘Is it Dave?'
Brilliant. You can’t make this stuff up. We then had a happy few minutes working our way through the flock with him dubbing them all, like some King in his play castle. ‘I name you, Oliver the goose. I name you, Jake the goose. I name you, Ethan the goose’, and so on. And on. And on. Truth be told, his patience with this game lasted a lot longer than mine but it kept him happy for a while, which was surely A Very Good Thing.
It got me thinking about the names he’d chosen though: Oliver; Jake; Ethan; Cameron; Jack; Ryan; Luke. None of them would have been in my ‘Pick twenty male names for a character in your next short story’ list. I always go for the same kind of names every time. Carl; Steve; Richard; John; Paul. Come to think of it, they’re basically the names of the boys I went to school with thirty years ago.
Similarly, If I were picking a female name it would be Sue, Claire, Helen; something like that. Apparently I’m stuck in my ways. No surprise there then, but when I researched a bit into modern child names I was surprised at how out of date some of the names I give my younger characters are. I’d never call a character N’Quisha for example. Then again, I can’t understand why a parent would call their daughter N’Quisha.
I think I’d be happy with the Danish system. It makes name selection so much easier. All parents have to pick a name for their newborn from a list of 7,000 pre-approved ones. If their choice isn’t on the list, then they have to make a special application to several official Ministries to use the name – and most non-standard names are rejected. N’Quisha? Sorry; not on the list. You’ll have to settle for Olaf.
Maybe I should set my next story in Denmark? I’ve got this idea for one about a Prince who goes a bit mad trying to avenge his father’s murder. I’d like to write that something rotten.
© Shaun Finnie 2012
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