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Onomastics in Contemporary Public Space

Onomastics in Contemporary Public Space

Edited by

Oliviu Felecan and Alina Bugheúiu

Onomastics in Contemporary Public Space, Edited by Oliviu Felecan and Alina Bugheúiu This book first published 2013 Cambridge Scholars Publishing 12 Back Chapman Street, Newcastle upon Tyne, NE6 2XX, UK British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Copyright © 2013 by Oliviu Felecan and Alina Bugheúiu and contributors All rights for this book reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. ISBN (10): 1-4438-4765-8, ISBN (13): 978-1-4438-4765-0

CONTENTS

Foreword .................................................................................................... x Contributors ............................................................................................. xvi Part I: Theory of Names Functions of Advertising Names in Different Types of Russian Texts ....... 2 Irina Kryukova Classes of Proper Names within Misantonyms ........................................ 11 Ephraim Nissan On a Few Categories of Personal Names Considered to Be Apt or Paradoxical ........................................................................................... 28 Ephraim Nissan On the Semantics of Proper Names .......................................................... 50 ùtefan Oltean Part II: Names of Public Places (Linguistic Landscapes) A Quantitative Study of Linguistic Landscape in Some Asian Urban Neighbourhoods ....................................................................................... 68 Yuan Jiang and Kazuko Tanabe Onomastics in the Public Space of Barcelona: A Compared Study between the Old City and the Eixample District ...................................... 85 Joan Tort-Donada

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Contents

Part III: Names of Public, Economic, Cultural, Religious and Sports Institutions Section One: Names of Business Establishments From Solar Valley to Shadow Mountain: Identity Construction in Location-Based Company Names ...................................................... 106 Angelika Bergien Names of Companies in Poland .............................................................. 120 Barbara Czopek-Kopciuch Company Names as Imitations of Personal Names: Models with a Borrowed Etiquette Word ............................................... 131 Sergey Goryaev and Olga Olshvang The Influence of the Idea of Prestige of a Foreign Country as Regards Naming Commercial Entities and Urban Microtoponyms ..................... 148 Michel A. Rateau Commercial Names in Finnish Public Space.......................................... 161 Paula Sjöblom Baxter, Gyproc and Passe-vite: Deonyms from Commercial Names in Belgian French ................................................................................... 172 Aude Wirth-Jaillard Section Two: Names of Religious Institutions (Places of Worship) and Cultural Associations Names of Romanian Places of Worship.................................................. 186 Oliviu Felecan and Nicolae Felecan Identity/Alterity in Names of Romanian Associations in America and Asia .................................................................................................. 207 Adelina Emilia Mihali

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Section Three: Names in Journals and Magazines The Articles and Notes in NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics as a Window into Current Research Interests in Onomastics ................. 224 Frank Nuessel Part IV: Names of Objects/Entities Resulting from Various Processes in Public Space Section One: Names of Foods, Drinks and Food Brands Innovation and Creativity in the Coinage of New Names for South African Wine: A Few Case Studies......................................................... 240 Bertie Neethling Italian Commercial Names: Brand and Product Names on the Globalised Market ....................................................................... 257 Paola Cotticelli Kurras Dish Names Constructed on Non-Standard Lexemes and Obscure Proper Nouns: Semantic Opacity as a Selling Point to Satisfy Ingenuous Tourists’ Appetite .................................................................. 277 Jérémie Delorme Names of Chinese Hawker Stalls and Foods in Singapore ..................... 293 Lee Cher Leng Antonomasia, Lexical Usage and Permanence of Brand Names ............ 314 Marcienne Martin The Pizza and the Pitta: The Thing and Its Names, Antecedents and Relatives, Ushering into Globalisation ............................................ 328 Ephraim Nissan and Mario Alinei Names in Romanian Gastronomy ........................................................... 340 Mihaela Munteanu Siserman From Acentino to Villa Gusto: Italian-Sounding Brand Names in the German Food Industry .................................................................. 354 Marie Antoinette Rieger

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Coca-Cola, Chek Cola, or Rally Cola?: A Comparison of Famous Name Brand Sodas and Their Private Label Imitators ............................ 374 Laurel A. Sutton Tu y yo, Prendi e vai, Saveurs d’ici: How Brand Names Mirror Socioeconomic Conditions in Romance Languages ................................ 391 Antje Zilg Section Two: Code Names (of Collaborators in Secret Service Organisations) Cover Names of Securitate Collaborators ............................................... 406 Wolfgang Dahmen and Johannes Kramer Aspects of Naming and Sociolinguistic Behaviour in Code Names ........ 413 Georgeta Rus Section Three: Names in Literature The Carnivalistic Aspect of Character Names in Literature .................... 424 Anna Fornalczyk Esoteric Meanings of Toponymy in Mircea Eliade’s Prose ..................... 435 Gheorghe Glodeanu Translation of Literary Proper Names ..................................................... 443 Georgiana Lungu-Badea Section Four: Nicknames/Bynames/Pseudonyms in the World of Politics, High-Life, Art and Sport Nicknames of Football Champions in Italy ............................................. 458 Daniela Cacia Contextual Variation of Surnames and First Names of Political Figures in Romanian Public Space .......................................................... 470 Margareta Manu Magda Polish Artistic Pseudonyms ..................................................................... 485 Kinga ZawodziĔska-Bukowiec

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Section Five: Names in Virtual Space Italian Students’ E-Mail Nicknames: When the Private Enters the Public Space ..................................................................................... 506 Davide Astori User Names as Unconventional Anthroponyms ..................................... 520 Daiana Felecan and Alina Bugheúiu Section Six: Zoonyms Cat-Breed Names in Contemporary Romanian ...................................... 532 Adriana StoichiĠoiu Ichim and Melania Roibu Part V: Miscellanea Graphemic Puns and Software Making Them Up: The Case of Hebrew vs Chinese and Japanese ......................................................................... 548 Yaakov HaCohen-Kerner, Daniel Nisim Cohen, Ephraim Nissan and Ghil‘ad Zuckermann Naming Your Car: Personalised Number Plates in Malta ....................... 557 Joseph M. Brincat Onomastic Maltreatment as a Symptom of Discrimination .................... 565 Ricard Morant and Arantxa Martín Charon’s Semantics. Naming Weather Systems: Between Scientific Tradition and Media Lore ....................................................................... 578 Nicola Reggiani Names as Commercial Values: Names of Celebrities ............................. 597 Andreas Teutsch Index auctorum et operum ...................................................................... 609 Index nominum et rerum ........................................................................ 613

FOREWORD INTRODUCTORY CONSIDERATIONS

The book Onomastics in Contemporary Public Space aims at analysing names and name-giving from an intercultural perspective, within the context of contemporary public space (especially in urban society, but also in the rural one). The concept of public space, defined as a common place governed by official laws and regulations, distinct from private space—ruled by customs that pertain to familial milieus and individual subjects—, has played a fundamental role throughout history. The structure of public space is itself worthy of our attention, especially since it affects the configuration of its secondary constituents, such as the use of words, rhetoric in general and the development of names (and of naming implicitly). Like on other occasions (see Name and Naming: Synchronic and Diachronic Perspectives, Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2012), the geographical areas investigated in the studies included in this volume are very diverse, referring not only to European cultural space, but also to American, Asian or African contexts. This book is a collective work that brings together forty-nine specialists from eighteen countries: Australia, Belgium, Finland, France, Germany, Israel, Italy, Japan, Malta, the Netherlands, Poland, Romania, Russia, Singapore, South Africa, Spain, the United Kingdom and the USA. Theoretically, the volume distinguishes itself by the field that it researches (which is currently of high interest) and by the modern approach of the topics analysed: the chapters delve into issues related to the development of intercultural naming and communicating abilities, two of the most valuable skills individuals today need, in the context of a world that is subject to globalisation. The research starts from the widely acknowledged fact that against the current background, sociocultural changes are almost unmediatedly mirrored by onomastics, in the sense that people are free to name people, places or products resulting from their activity.

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The originality and topicality of the subject lie in the multidisciplinary viewpoint adopted in the research, in which onomastics merges with adjacent linguistic disciplines, such as sociolinguistics, psycholinguistics and pragmatics, as well as other sciences, like history, literature, anthropology, politics, economy and religion. The stages in the development of one’s intercultural competence refer to: - the perception of “cultural patterns” that are different from one’s own, in view of valuing them without imposing any positive or negative hierarchies; - the extension of the “patterns” of one’s cultural behaviour through the flexible use of “cultural rules”; - the selective adoption of norms from other cultures; - the achievement of rational cultural choices in various given situations; - the surmounting of “intercultural conflicts.” The topics proposed by this volume are approached from diverse perspectives: references include both fundamental, classic studies on the investigated issues and the latest corresponding bibliography that can be found worldwide. Thematically, the book is organised so that it may cover all the dimensions of public space, as far as onomastics is concerned. Therefore, the following parts and sections have been delineated:

Part I: Theory of Names The chapter deals with several (especially theoretical) aspects related to advertising names, classes of proper names within misantonyms, categories of personal names considered to be apt or paradoxical and the semantics of proper names.

Part II: Names of Public Places (Linguistic Landscapes) Toponyms are classified according to the types of places they designate and the structure of the names used to individualise them. The most relevant socio-geographical toponymic classes that result from the application of the first criterion are illustrated by oikonyms. Urban toponyms are conceptually founded on the idea of ornament; as Aristotle said, “The principal ornament to any city lies in the siting, layout, composition and arrangement of its roads, squares and individual works.”

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Foreword

Part III: Names of Public, Economic, Cultural, Religious or Sports Institutions Section One: Names of Business Establishments The studies included in this large section of the book illustrate best— through the analysed names—the dynamic of the national and international onomasticon that is directly connected to the evolution and structure of contemporary public space. Anthroponymically, the registration of names of firms in legal documents corresponds to the officialisation of civilian naming, but social implications are immediate as regards communication and advertising. Sociolinguistically, names of firms are diagnostic indices of the social structures and interactive processes specific to a community. Psycholinguistically, one can predict the relationship between the structure of the names and the mental processes of the individuals that create them and value them in a given communicative context. Cognition, memory, emotions and temperaments, all play a significant role in the appearance and structure of names of business establishments.

Section Two: Names of Religious Institutions (Places of Worship) and Cultural Associations This segment of the book deals with the public relevance of religious institutions in contemporary public space, based on a corresponding onomasticon. Names of places of worship are analysed in the context of a multi-confessional space, where Orthodoxy coexists with Catholicism and diverse (neo-)Protestant churches or even Jewish synagogues. Names of cultural associations “copy” the names of various material creations that are of public interest on a local, national or international level and that have all the qualities that guarantee their becoming social, political or religious landmarks for a given linguistic community.

Section Three: Names in Journals and Magazines Written by the editor of the only ISI journal on onomastics, this chapter introduces us to the editorial universe of NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics, to its editorial board and collaborators, fields of interest, criteria for paper selection and journal rankings.

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Part IV: Names of Objects/Entities Resulting from Processes in Public Space Section One: Names of Foods, Drinks and Food Brands The studies included in this rich subchapter develop the empirical claim that names given to various food products have an important commercial function, performing as captatio benevolentiae for potential customers of eating/drinking houses. The choice of appropriate names for certain types of food is often the key to success in gastronomy. Before seeing and tasting the products served in a restaurant, the menus list numerous names that can be established or novel, foreign or local. Eloquent studies in this section consider food names in French, German, Italian, Romanian and Singaporean/Chinese landscapes. Names of drinks also have connotations that are worth noting. Studies on this topic regard innovation and creativity in coining new names for South African wine, or a comparison of famous name brand sodas and their private label imitators.

Section Two: Code Names (of Collaborators in Secret Service Organisations) Through the topics analysed, the present subchapter refers to delicate aspects in our recent history: the period of the Cold War, of the world’s division into deeply antagonistic sociopolitical spaces. At first glance, this subject may seem taboo; however, anthropologically, code names exert a particular attraction, especially if they pertain to the totalitarian-communist age (which most of the studies in this section focus on). As a part of a diabolical mechanism, many people, some willingly, others by force, were drawn into activities of informing intelligence agencies against their fellows. In order to avoid being “demonised” by the society and to stay out of the public eye, they took on “camouflage” names (sometimes even more than one per individual).

Section Three: Names in Literature The chapters in this section of the volume highlight, by means of subtle onomastic analyses, the fact that literature favours names that would be unlikely to function in the real world, just as the interpretation of these names reveals some of the authors’ intentions, which are useful in the

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Foreword

proper reading of a literary text. This onomastic category draws the attention of three researchers relative to the carnivalistic aspect of character names in literature, the esoteric meanings of toponymy in Mircea Eliade’s prose and the translation of literary proper names in general.

Section Four: Nicknames/Bynames/Pseudonyms in the World of Politics, High-Life, Art and Sport This subchapter discusses unconventional anthroponyms in public space: nicknames, bynames and pseudonyms. It includes studies that refer to nicknaming people that belong to different ethnic groups in the context of multicultural areas and to the classification of nicknames of sportspeople, politicians and artists based on age or status. The notion of characterisation is relevant to most names and pertains to a person’s salient attributes: physical appearance, psychological peculiarities, behaviour, social status, profession, occupations or other activities.

Section Five: Names in Virtual Space The subchapter refers to how the dissemination of the Internet as a new medium of public communication has influenced the domain of names and naming, by developing new onomastic structures and practices. In specialised studies, the Internet, called “the fourth form of mass media,” is seen as a free, democratic, decentralised, autonomous and interactive space, where all forms of communication are possible: interpersonal and mass communication, or combinations of the two, which are difficult to obtain in classic media forms. Online communication, or cyber-communication, implies the interaction between individuals via the Internet. The forms of interaction can vary from textual, audio and visual signals, to web conferencing. In this context, name-giving is a speech act, whose performative nature is salient in the name giver’s intention to interfere in linguistic reality by attributing names to extralinguistic realities: log-in names, chatroom names.

Section Six: Zoonyms Even if in specialised literature zoonyms are not dealt with as related to public space, we consider that they can be included in this volume. We start from the premise that when animals are owned by people, they are subject to their owners’ onomastic preferences and to certain onomastic

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trends. The study in this sector of the book analyses especially generic names: names of cat-breeds in Romanian.

Part V: Miscellanea The last part of the book comprises several studies that round up the universe of onomastics in public space: Graphemic Puns and Software Making Them Up. The Case of Hebrew vs Chinese and Japanese; Naming Your Car: Personalised Number Plates in Malta; Onomastic Maltreatment as a Symptom of Discrimination; Charon’s Semantics. Naming Weather Systems: Between Scientific Tradition and Media Lore; and Names as Commercial Values: Names of Celebrities. As is the case with the other (sub)chapters of the volume, studies in this part tackle various particular aspects of naming, which were not dealt with in previous sections.

Concluding remarks Along with Name and Naming: Synchronic and Diachronic Perspectives (Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2012), the book Onomastics in Contemporary Public Space offers new approaches to the phenomenon of naming from modern, interdisciplinary perspectives. The common denominator of the chapters is expressed by names in contemporary public space. The contributions of renowned specialists from all continents give the volume a multicultural complexity and openness that provide a wellgrounded outlook on onomastics.

Oliviu Felecan

CONTRIBUTORS

MARIO ALINEI, Emeritus University of Utrecht, Netherlands DAVIDE ASTORI, University of Parma, Italy ANGELIKA BERGIEN, University of Magdeburg, Department of Foreign Languages, Germany JOSEPH M. BRINCAT, University of Malta ALINA BUGHE‫܇‬IU, Technical University of Cluj-Napoca, North University Center of Baia Mare, Faculty of Letters, Center of Onomastics, Romania DANIELA CACIA, University of Turin, Department of Foreign Languages and Literatures and Modern Cultures, Italy DANIEL NISIM COHEN, Jerusalem College of Technology (Machon Lev), Department of Computer Science, Jerusalem, Israel PAOLA COTTICELLI KURRAS, University of Verona, Italy BARBARA CZOPEK-KOPCIUCH, Institute of Polish Language, Polish Academy of Sciences, Kraków, Poland WOLFGANG DAHMEN, University of Jena, Germany JÉRÉMIE DELORME, FNRS & University of Liège, Belgium DAIANA FELECAN, Technical University of Cluj-Napoca, North University Center of Baia Mare, Faculty of Letters, Department of Philology and Cultural Studies, Romania NICOLAE FELECAN, Technical University of Cluj-Napoca, North University Center of Baia Mare, Faculty of Letters, Center of Onomastics, Romania OLIVIU FELECAN, Technical University of Cluj-Napoca, North University Center of Baia Mare, Faculty of Letters, Department of Philology and Cultural Studies, Romania ANNA FORNALCZYK, University of Warsaw, Institute of Applied Linguistics, Poland GHEORGHE GLODEANU, Technical University of Cluj-Napoca, North University Center of Baia Mare, Faculty of Letters, Department of Philology and Cultural Studies, Romania SERGEY GORYAEV, Ural State Medicine Academy, Ural Federal University, Russia YAAKOV HACOHEN-KERNER, Jerusalem College of Technology (Machon Lev), Department of Computer Science, Jerusalem, Israel

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YUAN JIANG, Nikkei Research Inc., Japan JOHANNES KRAMER, University of Trier, Germany IRINA KRYUKOVA, Volgograd State Social-Pedagogical University, Department of linguistics, Russia LEE CHER LENG, National University of Singapore, Department of Chinese Studies, Singapore GEORGIANA LUNGU-BADEA, West University of Timiúoara, Timi‫܈‬oara, Romania MARGARETA MANU MAGDA, Institute of Linguistics “I. Iordan—Al. Rosetti” of the Romanian Academy, Bucharest, Romania ARANTXA MARTÍN, Universitat de València, Department of the Theory of Languages and Communication Sciences, Spain MARCIENNE MARTIN, Laboratoire ORACLE [Observatoire Réunionnais des Arts, des Civilisations et des Littératures dans leur Environnement], Université de l’île de la Réunion, France ADELINA EMILIA MIHALI, Technical University of Cluj-Napoca, North University Center of Baia Mare, Faculty of Letters, Center of Onomastics, Romania RICARD MORANT, Universitat de València, Department of the Theory of Languages and Communication Sciences, Spain MIHAELA MUNTEANU SISERMAN, Technical University of Cluj-Napoca, North University Center of Baia Mare, Faculty of Letters, Department of Philology and Cultural Studies, Romania BERTIE NEETHLING, Xhosa Department, University of the Western Cape (UWC), South Africa EPHRAIM NISSAN, University of London, Goldsmiths College, United Kingdom FRANK NUESSEL, University of Louisville, USA OLGA OLSHVANG, Ural State Medicine Academy, Ural Federal University, Russia ùTEFAN OLTEAN, Babeú-Bolyai University, Department of English, ClujNapoca, Romania MICHEL A. RATEAU, Société Française d’Onomastique, France NICOLA REGGIANI, University of Parma, Italy MARIE ANTOINETTE RIEGER, University of Bologna, Department of Foreign Languages and Literatures, Italy MELANIA ROIBU, University of Bucharest, Department of Linguistics, Romania GEORGETA RUS, Technical University of Cluj-Napoca, North University Center of Baia Mare, Faculty of Letters, Center of Onomastics, Romania

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Contributors

PAULA SJÖBLOM, University of Turku, Finland ADRIANA STOICHI‫܉‬OIU ICHIM, University of Bucharest, Department of Linguistics, Romania LAUREL A. SUTTON, Catchword Brand Name Development, USA KAZUKO TANABE, Japan Women’s University, Japan ANDREAS TEUTSCH, Alicante, Spain JOAN TORT-DONADA, University of Barcelona, Department of Physical Geography, Catalonia, Spain AUDE WIRTH-JAILLARD, Université Catholique de Louvain, Belgium/ Technische Universität Dresden, Germany KINGA ZAWODZIēSKA-BUKOWIEC, Polish Academy of Sciences, Institute of Polish Language, Cracow, Poland ANTJE ZILG, Justus-Liebig-Universität, Department of Romance Linguistics, Giessen, Germany GHIL‘AD ZUCKERMANN, University of Adelaide, School of Humanities, Chair of Linguistics and Endangered Languages, Adelaide, Australia

PART I: THEORY OF NAMES

FUNCTIONS OF ADVERTISING NAMES IN DIFFERENT TYPES OF RUSSIAN TEXTS IRINA KRYUKOVA The concept of “advertising name” The present chapter is devoted to the problem of the functioning of advertising names in Russia. According to our conception, the category of trademarks is not the only one related to the class of advertising names. Names of plants/factories, organisations, creative collectives, societies and mass media are considered to belong to the same class. For example, names like BBC, Eurovision, Bolshoi Theater, Intourist are also advertising names, just like Coca-Cola, Kodak or Samsung, which are known worldwide. Russian onomastic tradition presupposes the use of special terms for such names. The term ergonym (from the Greek words ΉȡȖȠȞ ‘deed’ and ȠȞȠȝĮ ‘name’) stands for a proper name referring to a group of people organised according to some business interest, such as a union, a society, an enterprise or a sector (ɉɨɞɨɥɶɫɤɚɹ 1988: 178). Pragmatonym (from the Greek nouns ʌȡȐȖȝĮ ‘thing’ or ‘commodity’ and ȠȞȠȝĮ ‘name’) refers to a proper name denoting a trademark (ɉɨɞɨɥɶɫɤɚɹ 1988: 113). Hemeronym (from the Greek words ‫ݘ‬ȝ‫ޢ‬ȡĮ ‘day’ and ȠȞȠȝĮ ‘name’) is used to denote names of printed media including magazines and newspapers (ɉɨɞɨɥɶɫɤɚɹ 1988: 46). The range of the last term can be enlarged to include TV shows and radio broadcasts (Ʉɪɸɤɨɜɚ 2000: 215). In spite of the variability of their semantic structure and different denotative reference, the aforementioned types of names may be regarded as a single body of onomastic lexis for they have much in common. Firstly, all of them belong to the same conceptual field and denote objects subjected to advertising. Secondly, they are alike in pragmatic orientation—the probable impact on the addressee is taken into account at the stage of invention. Thirdly, they denote an individual object’s symbol, which comprises verbal as well as non-verbal components (Ʉɪɸɤɨɜɚ 2004). Individualisation, i.e., the main characteristic of onyms, is the basic trait that enables one to refer to advertising names as proper names. However, advertising names portray this characteristic in their own way—

Irina Kryukova

3

the role of the individualised object is played not by a certain material thing but by some abstract elements, such as the ownership of a commodity, the field in which the enterprise is engaged or the main concept of an advertisement in mass media. One of the key distinctive features of advertising names, setting them apart from other classes of proper names and common lexis, is their rapid adaptation in modern language. They appear in regular speech and are fixed in native speakers’ minds just a few months after being invented. This is the result of a special social media control, entailing that an advertised item should be promoted as often as possible (Kryukova 2008: 734). The task of the present chapter is to survey the semantic modifications and functions of advertising names in contemporary Russian linguoculture. The material for the study was selected from Russian texts from the last ten years. The texts include audio and visual ads, as well as journalistic and fictional texts. The analysis of the material enabled us to distinguish two basic functions of the researched names: advertising and characterising. The former is illustrated with examples taken from contemporary Russian advertising texts. The contexts for illustrating the characters of real persons were found on various websites of all-Russian long-running newspapers. Television and radio broadcasts were also taken into account. The contexts for the characteristics of fictional characters are illustrated with examples taken from contemporary Russian fiction.

The two main functions of advertising names The advertising function Frequent repetition of names of goods in an advertising text can be regarded as their introduction to language or—metaphorically put—their “language baptism.” They are the most frequent signs in an advertising text, and they are used in its every part—in taglines, slogans, the body of texts and echo phrases. This supports readers in memorising an advertising name and creates a link between information about a good and its name. An analysis of several thousand Russian advertising texts showed that many of them are made using a rhetoric model known as NAME. According to this model, the source of the invention of a concept is the reference to a name’s inner form or its sound image. The research below illustrates the most common cases of this model, with examples that have been taken from Russian advertising texts. The

4

Functions of Advertising Names in Different Types of Russian Texts

study begins by examining advertising texts in which the plot is based on the semantic potential of a name. Pragmatonyms have a special semantic potential that is realised through semanticisation and pun. It is noteworthy that the semanticisation of a pragmatonym is possible only when the name has been derived from a significant word of the natural language as a result of appellativisation (e.g., ɣɨɝɭɪɬ “ɑɭɞɨ” ‘Miracle yoghurt’). This is exactly where the preonomastic meaning of the name is activated, i.e., the meaning of the words or word collocations that served as a basis for the name itself. We got used to calling “miracle” everything that goes beyond common life. “ɑɭɞɨ-ɣɨɝɭɪɬ” is the yoghurt for us (chudo is Russian for ‘miracle’).

Sometimes, an advertising text is built up in a way in which only one of the semes of a pre-onomastic meaning is activated: “Ʉɚɪɶɟɪɚ” (‘career’) magazine. The Career presupposes looking back to the results of your work, of which you could be proud.

Semanticisation also includes the translation of an advertising name or disabbreviation: “Newhouse”—ɦɟɛɟɥɶ ɞɥɹ ɧɨɜɨɝɨ ɞɨɦɚ. (‘Newhouse—furniture for a new house.’) “ȺɈɋ”—ɚɛɫɨɥɸɬɧɨ ɨɩɬɢɦɚɥɶɧɚɹ ɫɢɫɬɟɦɚ. (‘AOS—absolutely optimal system.’)

Such a reference to the origin or meaning of an advertising name comprises significant advertising information and provides general data regarding a named object within the advertising text. The pun in an advertising text is usually performed on the basis of the multiple repetitions of an advertising name, as well as its usage with onomastic and pre-onomastic meaning, which contributes to the falseexpectancy effect: ɀɢɬɶ ɯɨɪɨɲɨ, ɚ ɫ ɥɸɛɢɦɵɦ ɟɳɟ ɥɭɱɲɟ. ɋɨɤ “Ʌɸɛɢɦɵɣ.” (‘Life is good. And life with a beloved one is better. Beloved, the juice.’) Ɇɢɝ—ɢ ɝɨɥɨɜɚ ɧɟ ɛɨɥɢɬ. ɋɪɟɞɫɬɜɨ ɨɬ ɝɨɥɨɜɧɨɣ ɛɨɥɢ “Ɇɢɝ.” (‘It takes a wink to get a relief from headache. Wink, a headache remedy.’)

The revival of the pre-onomastic meaning of a pragmatonym also tallies with the usage of cognate words: ɉɨɱɭɜɫɬɜɭɣɬɟ ɥɟɝɤɨɫɬɶ,

Irina Kryukova

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ɫɬɚɧɶɬɟ ɚɤɬɢɜɧɵɦɢ ɫ “Ⱥɤɬɢɜɢɚ.” (‘Feel the lightness and be active with Activia.’) The realisation of the phonetic potential of a name can be observed in pragmatonyms with an ambiguous inner form. They are usually derived from foreign words. The phonetic potential is capitalised through various alliterations, thus creating a kind of sound echo: “Wella”—ɜɵ ɜɟɥɢɤɨɥɟɩɧɵ. (‘Wella. We’ll be excellent.’) “Rowenta”—ɪɚɞɨɫɬɶ ɜ ɜɚɲɟɦ ɞɨɦɟ. (‘Rowenta—a row of luxury technics in your house.’)

Sometimes a pragmatonym is put in a strong position in advertising rhymes. It is noteworthy that when it comes to the translation of slogans, usualising agents tend to keep their rhymed and rhythmic structure: “ɀɢɥɟɬ”—ɥɭɱɲɟ ɞɥɹ ɦɭɠɱɢɧɵ ɧɟɬ. (‘Gillette—the best a man can get.’) There is one more stylistic device that is worth mentioning and that is close to popular etymology, due to its tendency to underline the “understandable in what is misunderstood.” For instance, the protagonists of some TV-ads for Orbit chewing gum are extra-terrestrials observing the Earth from its orbit. The stylistic potential is activated with the use of an advertising name as a figurative means, the name acting as a part of a trope or a figure of speech. For example, the link between a pragmatonym and the qualities of a good is depicted with the use of metaphors: “Ɇɨɬɢɥɢɭɦ”—ɦɨɬɨɪ ɞɥɹ ɜɚɲɟɝɨ ɠɟɥɭɞɤɚ (‘Motilium is the motor for your stomach.’) “Shell” —ɜ ɫɟɪɞɰɟ ɬɜɨɟɣ ɦɚɲɢɧɵ. (‘Shell is in the heart of your car.’)

A similar process is achieved through the personification of names: “Ⱥɪɫɟɧɚɥɶɧɨɟ”—ɩɢɜɨ ɫ ɦɭɠɫɤɢɦ ɯɚɪɚɤɬɟɪɨɦ. (‘Arsenalnoye is a masculine beer with character.’) “ɉɚɦɩɟɪɫ” ɡɧɚɟɬ, ɱɬɨ ɦɚɥɵɲ ɠɟɥɚɟɬ. (“Pampers knows what a baby wants.’)

In such cases, a name acquires some auxiliary evaluative meanings, which significantly contribute to its being remembered. Moreover, a special class of personified pragmatonyms can be delineated, based on the transonymised references of the names to the people who act as the

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Functions of Advertising Names in Different Types of Russian Texts

characters of an advertisement: ɱɚɣ “ɉɪɢɧɰɟɫɫɚ Ʉɚɧɞɢ” (‘the princess of Kandy’), ɲɨɤɨɥɚɞ “Ⱥɥɟɧɤɚ” (‘the girl named Alyonka’). Advertising texts created with the use of figurative analogy often include proper names. For instance, sometimes pragmatonyms that are vaguely known to a Russian native speaker collide with a well-known anthroponym: Ɂɟɦɥɹ ɜɟɪɬɢɬɫɹ—ɞɨɤɚɡɚɧɨ Ƚɚɥɢɥɟɟɦ. ɇɚɞɟɠɧɚɹ ɬɟɯɧɢɤɚ ɫɭɳɟɫɬɜɭɟɬ—ɞɨɤɚɡɚɧɨ “Zanussi” (‘Galileo: And yet it moves. Zanussi: And yet reliable household appliances exist’). Advertising texts—such as those previously quoted—served as the first contexts for the names in question to appear. This stage in the life of advertising names can be regarded as “artificial usualisation.” It presupposes some systematic, purposeful actions, aimed at fixing brand names in speech (Kryukova 2004). All in all, the semantics of advertising names is getting better, so to speak. New lexical connotations that can underlie word formation appear in name structures. Exceeding the bounds of advertising texts, advertising names acquire the properties of an audio-visual phenomenon. They cross the borders of their original context and start to function as language units. In several months, such names “run” the distance that other words take decades to cover. They may act as a signal, arousing a wide complex of associative meanings.

The characterising function Having conducted a thorough study, the author of the present chapter can state that the characterising function of advertising names is achieved owing to their ability to deliver objective information about people and their habitats, along with a certain emotional evaluation of some depicted events, in a relatively short text fragment. The analysis revealed that advertising names can fulfil a characterising function directly (pointing at an object) and figuratively (hinting at qualities belonging to a well-known object). In what follows, the chapter proposes an illustration and direct explanation of this function of advertising names. Three extracts were picked from popular media releases about Russian politicians, their tastes, habits and lifestyle. Ergonyms and pragmatonyms are used as key-words: (1) Former vice Prime Minister Alexander Livshits prefers the Krasnaya Ploschad, 1 restaurant. It is near the Kremlin. Vladimir Rushaylo likes to visit the Sirena fish restaurant. The Minister of Economy Herman Gref is fond of bohemian Bulvar. Famous bankers often dine out at Grand

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Opera—it is all about that White Guard style, perhaps, which makes dishes more exquisite (Komsomolskaja Pravda, January 30, 2003). (2) Sergey Yastrzhembsky likes classic Valentino ties, he buys them at a rather inexpensive price, for the people from his circle—$99 each. His shorts are made at the Italian factory Carl, their prices start at €150. These shorts are not worse than Brioni (Komsomolskaja Pravda, June 29, 2005). (3) Grigory Yavlinsky is a good mix of a patriot and westerner. He drinks both Stolichnaya and Johnny Walker (Novyje izvestija, March 14, 2008).

These examples show that Russian and world-renowned brand names can concisely characterise celebrities equally well. Apart from conveying information, advertising names can express some of the feelings of the author of an advertising text, while they can also inspire the formation of an emotional attitude towards the depicted object. In other words, they function at an emotional level. However, advertising names might be re-evaluated as social and economic circumstances change. This peculiarity is observed in contemporary Russian fiction, especially in books whose plots unfold in modern cities. In these cases, advertising names are used to characterise fictional characters. As an example, there are some Russian pragmatonyms and hemeromyms that were created in the Soviet period and that are now subjected to re-evaluation: (4) Mr. Pumpkin had probably lived in Russia for too long and adopted so many Russian traditions that he even smoked Belomorkanal cigarettes (Ȼ. Ⱥɤɭɧɢɧ, Ⱥɥɬɵɧ-Ɍɨɥɨɛɚɫ). (5) He visited banya once a week; once a month, he queued up for pension welfare; he used a Rekord TV-set and repaired shoes as a side job (Ɇ. ȼɟɥɥɟɪ, Ȼɚɣɤɢ ɫɤɨɪɨɣ ɩɨɦɨɳɢ). (6) In exile, Glazov kept being an oppositionist. He wore out a pair of Skorokhod shoes and regularly prolonged the subscription to Sovetskiye Profsoyuzy paper (ɋ. Ⱦɨɜɥɚɬɨɜ, Ɏɢɥɢɚɥ). (7) I have often heard generals say this about the Army. Those generals consider Krasnaya Zvezda mostly civic-minded (ȼ. ɒɟɧɞɟɪɨɜɢɱ, Ɂɞɟɫɶ ɛɵɥɨ ɇɌȼ).

If characters in modern Russian books wear Skorokhod boots, smoke Belomorkanal cigarettes, watch a Rekord TV-set and prefer Sovetskiye profsoyuzy or Krasnaya Zvezda to the other newspapers, they are characterised by means of these pragmatonyms and hemeronyms as a conservative, retrograde or poor person. It is clear that, years ago, when the names were invented, there was no intention of creating such an image.

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Functions of Advertising Names in Different Types of Russian Texts

New connotations block the use of old ones (prestigiousness, progressive nature). Names from the Soviet period show that in the mind of a native speaker functional and semantic images of an advertising name can be altered successively after relatively short periods of time. However, the functional potential is not limited to this. If the semantic structure of an advertising name includes information about the properties of a commodity, its usage with a special stylistic charge becomes possible. Such names can be a part of stylistic devices—for instance, simile (all the examples were taken from Komsomolskaya Pravda): (8) In Baltic countries, they paint houses as if they were built with Lego bricks (December 30, 2002). (9) The old woman rushed out of the room as if someone had put an Energizer battery inside her (October 25, 2006). (10) The system allowing students to enter colleges by giving bribes to the officials is as fault-free as a Singer sewing machine (July 4, 2010).

Thus, the given examples activate semes like “tidiness,” “energetic work” and “reliability,” which are potentially included in the semantic structure of the analysed advertising names. These names show partial appellativisation, which means that they can be equally used as an onym and an appellative. Moreover, in the latter case, the name is used as a vivid figurative means. This ability has been analysed by many researchers in various countries (Van Langendonck 2007; Ƚɭɞɤɨɜ 1999). However, it was mostly anthroponyms that were taken as a material for analysis. For example, in recent Russian works, the object of study is mainly found in names that were firmly fixed in national linguocultural consciousness a long time ago. Their meaning is usually undoubted by the majority of natives: Einstein—genius, Othello—jealousy, Plyushkin—stinginess, and so on. The development of the appellative meanings of these names can barely be examined, because this process takes decades to complete, if not centuries. Contemporary Russian media texts enable researchers to see how new figurative meanings emerge in a very short time. This process can be illustrated by the McDonald’s chain of restaurants, a well-known name in any part of the world. In the early 1990s, McDonald’s opened several restaurants, and its name was instantly adopted by the Russian language mostly because it occurred frequently in the media. It was more often used in transcription—Ɇɚɤɞɨɧɚɥɞɫ (also Ɇɚɤɞɨɧɚɥɶɞɫ, coll.), and therefore declined, creating a plural form, and was clustered with a class of alike objects. The cognitive and emotional values of the name resulted from its

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usage with several figurative meanings that demonstrated both a positive and a negative evaluation of the qualities related to the named object, based on initial characteristics of the direct meaning: (1) An effective and profitable enterprise: “In a short time, Russkoye Bistro has become a remunerative business and a real Russian McDonald’s” (Ogonyok, April 1996). (2) A large enterprise network with branches in many countries, e.g., an article in Expert magazine about the expansion of the Sela clothing chain in the Russian market was called “Clothing McDonald’s.” (3) A large and stable organisation: “The volunteer military should be regarded as a regular business, which is practically no different from a factory of fast-food chain like McDonald’s” (Nezavisimaya Gazeta, 29 ɢɸɥɹ 2003). (4) Any canteen or restaurant with low-grade food: “The food they serve is not good, mostly American and Italian, and mostly low grade, like McDonald’s stuff” (forevergubin.narod.ru). (5) Unwholesome food: “If your stomach is capable of digesting sticks and stones, and broken bones, and other stuff by Russian mcdonaldses, if you are not afraid of cholecystitis, gastritis or cirrhosis—everything is okay then. So far, so good.” (Russky Predprinimatel, September 9, 2008). The plural form and a lowercase initial letter in (4) and (5) express native speakers’ intuitive notion of the name’s status change. Finally, McDonald’s starts to act as a sign of globalisation. For example, anti-globalists use it as a metaphor for their extreme emotional attitude to implanting American cultural values into national mentality: “This gigantic wave of globalisation is a real threat, it will take us in in hours, and there is no historical time left. This wave will demolish everything that we consider national, everything we have built as a nation. There will be nothing Ukranian and nothing Russian. There will be only one big McDonald’s” (Radonezh, June 19, 2006). Compare this to the usage of other well-known advertising names: “Nationalists of the world hate this pop-culture, which is harsh-coloured, motley and rotten. It turns any national shrine into celluloid-painted Disneyland” (Zavtra, January 29, 2009). In every new meaning, one can see imagery intensification as well as a stress on emotive evaluative components in semantic structure. The last type of meaning is notable for a more consistent establishment of notional attributes.

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Functions of Advertising Names in Different Types of Russian Texts

Conclusion Taking all the aforesaid into consideration, it is worth noting that the proper names that one generally calls “advertising names” are clustered according to the criteria of common usage. For these names, advertising texts serve as the first type of contexts. Such texts make advertising names fulfil their phonetic, semantic and stylistic potential. As a result of their use in this kind of texts, the names are enriched semantically. Their central meaning is enhanced by means of new connotations. This determines the specifics of their further usage, which presupposes that the advertising name becomes a means of direct or figurative characterisation in contemporary journalistic or literary texts. As it becomes a usualised unit, it starts to be used frequently in different communication spheres, forming different stylistic means, helping to create comic effect, and serving the needs of typification and stylisation. These words can hardly be regarded as simple tags or labels of no importance.

References Ƚɭɞɤɨɜ, Ⱦ.Ȼ. 1999. ɉɪɟɰɟɞɟɧɬɧɨɟ ɢɦɹ ɢ ɩɪɨɛɥɟɦɵ ɩɪɟɰɟɞɟɧɬɧɨɫɬɢ. Ɇ.: ɂɡɞ-ɜɨ ɆȽɍ. Ʉɪɸɤɨɜɚ, ɂ.ȼ. 2000. Ʉɨɦɩɨɡɢɬɵ ɜ ɫɨɜɪɟɦɟɧɧɨɣ ɪɭɫɫɤɨɣ ɝɟɦɟɪɨɧɢɦɢɢ. Slowianskie compozita onomastyczne (Toponimia.Varia): 215-220. Lublin: Wyd-wo Universytetu M. Curie-Sklodovskiej. —. 2004. Ɋɟɤɥɚɦɧɨɟ ɢɦɹ: ɨɬ ɢɡɨɛɪɟɬɟɧɢɹ ɢ ɩɪɟɰɟɞɟɧɬɧɨɫɬɢ. ȼɨɥɝɨɝɪɚɞ: ɉɟɪɟɦɟɧɚ. Kryukova, I. 2008. The Brand Name’s Life Stages. In Proceedings of the 22nd International Congress of Onomastic Sciences. Pisa 2005: Vol.2, M.G. Arcamone, D. Bremer, D. de Camilli and B. Porcelli (eds), 733-741. Pisa. ɉɨɞɨɥɶɫɤɚɹ, ɇ.ȼ. 1988. ɋɥɨɜɚɪɶ ɪɭɫɫɤɨɣ ɨɧɨɦɚɫɬɢɱɟɫɤɨɣ ɬɟɪɦɢɧɨɥɨɝɢɢ. 2-ɟ ɢɡɞ. Ɇ.: ɇɚɭɤɚ. Van Langendonck, W. 2007. Theory and Ɍypology of Ɋroper Names. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter.

CLASSES OF PROPER NAMES WITHIN MISANTONYMS EPHRAIM NISSAN Introduction I introduced the term misantonym for a “false contrary” in Nissan (1999). This concept captures a device of neologisation based on mockliteral opposition between components of the pair of terms (which is sometimes a pair of compounds), where the neologism is patterned after the extant term. Oftentimes, but not always, the coinages are proper names. An example of misantonymous common name is meteowrongs in “Pyrites, Meteorites and Meteorwrongs from Ancient Iran” (the subtitle of the paper by Overlaet 2008). The present chapter provides an illustration of various classes of proper names which were coined misantonymously.

Toponyms: Naming a sea, naming a town The examples we consider in this section differ in that one concerns the name of a sea in Turkish, whereas the other one concerns the name of a German town. Moreover, the two examples differ importantly in that the example from Turkish is deliberate misantonymy, whereas folk-etymology caused the German toponym to be coined by unwitting misantonymy. The Turkish name for the Black Sea is Karadeniz, from kara (‘black’) and deniz (‘sea’). This name responds to the Turkish name for the other sea of Turkey, the Mediterranean, which is called Akdeniz, i.e., literally ‘the White Sea,’ where arguably ‘white’ is there by mere contrast. Let us turn to the example from German. The misantonym is Neufels. In the debate following an article by Kleiber (1992), originally a talk within a session—at the 18th Congrès International de Linguistique et de Philologie Romanes held in Trier in 1986—about the Romania submersa in the German region of the Moselle (where a Romance vernacular still existed during the Middle Ages), on pp. 33-34 there is the following intervention:

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Classes of Proper Names within Misantonyms M. Jacques Pohl: Je suis en relation avec un collègue qui habite Merzig en Sarre. Il y a deux toponymes, à savoir Altfels et Neufels, et celon ce collègue qui est [p. 34:] un disciple de Jungandreas, Altfels ne serait pas le «vieux rocher», mais altum, le «rocher éléve». Qu’est-ce que vous pensez de cela? M. Max Pfister: Pour Altfels, l’interprétation «rocher éléve» n’est pas exclue. L’opposition Alt-/Neu- présente quelquefois des problèmes, p. ex. au Palatinat Alt-Hornbach/Hornbach. Alt-Hornbach se rapportait probablement à l’habitat des Romans, des Welsch-/Walch-, tandis que Hornbach se rapportait au nouveau village colonisé par les Francs. [Jacques Pohl: I am in contact with a colleague who lives in Merzig in the Saar. There exist two place names, namely, Altfels and Neufels, and according to this colleague, who is a pupil of Jungandreas, Altfels is not the “old rock,” but rather altum, the “high rock.” What do you think about this? Max Pfister: For Altfels, the interpretation “high rock” cannot be ruled out. The opposition Alt-/Neu- is sometimes problematic, e.g., in the Palatinate Alt-Hornbach/Hornbach. Alt-Hornbach probably dates back to the settlement by the Romans, i.e., the Welsch-/Walch-, whereas Hornbach dates back from the new hamlet colonised by the Frankish.]

On p. 34, lines 1-2, one reads that etymologically, the place name Altfels would on the face of it be interpreted as “vieux rocher” (“old rock”), and at any rate this is why, by contrast, Neufels came into existence. Nevertheless, Altfels may be derived instead from the Latin altum, for “rocher éléve” (“high rock”). If so, then Neufels is a misantonym. In the following example, from Italy, a town was renamed by what is actually is a misantonym. The politically active citizens of the village of Schiavi in southern Italy (in the present-day province of Caserta) decided—shortly after the annexation in 1860 of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies (with capital in Naples) to the Regno Sardo (with capital in Turin) giving rise to the unified Kingdom of Italy—to rename the place Líberi (lit., ‘free men’) because in Italian, schiavi denotes ‘slaves.’ However, the original semantic motivation may rather have been from another, obsolete acceptation: ‘Slavs,’ in case there had been there a settlement of Slavs. Villages of Slavs or Albanians are rather found here and there between the Apennines and the Adriatic coast. Bear in mind that as late as the eighteenth century, when the royal palace of Caserta (la Reggia di Caserta) was built, there had been in Caserta Muslim slaves captured on the coasts of North Africa; they were employed in the building of the royal

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palace. At anny rate, the toown council off Schiavi was unwilling to retain the name Schiavvi, and considdered Liberi to o be a name ffor the place th hat better reflected thhe character of its inhaabitants. Thiss is an insstance of misantonym my, as the etym mological sen nse of the oriiginal place name n was ‘Slavs,’ not ‘slaves.’

Misanttonymous reasoning r with w toponyyms in hum mour Sometim mes humour reesorts to a deevice of false analogy thatt is rather akin to misaantonymy. Coonsider such an a example thhat involves th he names for two islannds: Easter Island (in Italiaan: l’Isola di P Pasqua), in th he Pacific Ocean, andd Christmas Island I (in Itaalian: l’Isola di Natale), which is southwest of Java, under u Austraalian admini stration. The actual nt for the circumstancces of the reaal-world Christmas Island are irrelevan example connsidered, as it is only the existence of tthe toponym that does matter. Figuure 1 is a gagg cartoon pub blished (withoout a signaturre) in the Milan weekkly La Settimaana Enigmisticca on p. 33 off the issue 3898, dated December 99, 2006. Easteer Island is famous fa for itss huge sculpteed heads. The cartoonnists came up with the idea that on Chrisstmas Island, there t also are such scuulpted heads, but b they are th he heads of a ssnowman.

Figure 1. A gaag cartoon from m La Settimana Enigmistica (isssue 3898, Deceember 9, 2006: 33). Byy kind permissioon of La Settimana Enigmisticca. Copyright reeserved.

Clearly, Christmas Island in this gag cartoon has nothing to do o with the real island so named andd whose inhaabitants are eethnic Malay or ethnic m up a placee and a topony ym. Chinese. Acctually, in jokees, one may make Considerr the following punning riddles I invente d in Italian:

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Classes of Proper Names within Misantonyms Domanda: Quale Paese scomparve per la troppa bontà? Risposta: La Bonesia, e rimase invece la Malesia. [Q: Which country disappeared because of excessive goodness? A: Bonesia, and Malesia remained instead.]

The previous riddle is based on Malesia being interpreted from the Italian noun male ‘evil’ or from the adjective malo ‘evil’ instead of from Malay, and based on this playful metanalysis, a fanciful place is invented: Bonesia, so named from buono/bono (adj.) ‘good.’ That the place does not exist in the world the way we know it, is explained out by this place having disappeared. The following riddle instead is evocative of the myth of Atlantis, and moreover it is based on the Latin etymology of the insulae Canariae, ‘islands of dogs,’ ‘canine islands,’ ‘islands replete with dogs’ (cf. the downtrodden neighbourhood in London, a peninsula on the northern bank of the Thames, called Isle of Dogs). The place invented is the Isole Gattarie, ‘Cattary Islands,’ ‘Cattaries’: Domanda: Quale arcipelago dell’Oceano Atlantico scomparve? Risposta: Le Isole Gattarie. Morsicate dalle Canarie, fecero acqua da tutte le parti e poi si inabissarono. [Q: Which archipelago in the Atlantic Ocean disappeared? A: The Cattary Islands. They were badly bitten by the Canary Islands, you see, so water poured in from all sides, and they went down.]

Scholarly works about riddles include Kaivola-Bregenhøj (2001) and Pepicello and Green (1984). Computational models generating punning riddles are the subject of Ritchie et al. (2006), Binsted et al. (1997); cf. De Palma and Weiner (1992). Mauretania’s King Juba II lived at the time of the Roman Emperor Augustus. Juba II was a scholar, and his treatises Libyca and On Arabia were “[t]he culmination of Juba’s scholarship and indeed ancient understanding of the southern half of the world, from the Pillars around Africa to India” (Roller 2006: 113). Juba’s Lybica “was a wide-ranging study of mythology, natural history, and exploration of the northern half of Africa” (ibid.), bringing “together all the knowledge about the Atlantic south of the Pillars, from [the Carthaginian explorer] Hanno to the indigenous Mauretanian monarchs, although there is no evidence that he added to the existing data beyond his reconnaissance of the Canary islands” (ibid.). Juba II explored but did not settle the Canary Islands (Roller 2006: 48-49). “Pliny, Natural History 6.201-5 = Juba, fr. 43, 44.

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The account mixes information from Juba and Statius Sebsos, whose exact role in the transmission is not clear” (ibid., fn. 29) (cf. Roller 2003, 2004 concerning Juba II, and cf. Nissan 2010 [2011]). The following example is taken from the Babylonian Talmud, tractate Shabbat, folio 152, side a. A scholar, Rabbi Joshua ben [i.e., son of] Qorতa [i.e., the Baldie: this is a possible interpretation], was insolently asked by a eunuch (in Aramaic, a eunuch was called gawza): “How far is it from here to Qarতina?” The rabbi retorted with this punchline: “As far as from here to Gawzania.” The latter name may be rendered as Eunuchopolis (or, according to Jastrow’s dictionary (1903), Eunuchia) vs Baldburgh. An actual town called Qar‫ۊ‬ina did exist in Mesopotamia at the time, but here it is reinterpreted as ‘Baldburgh,’ a place of baldheads, and this because in Aramaic qar‫ۊ‬a denotes ‘baldhead’ or ‘baldie.’ (In Arabic, instead, qar‫ۊ‬a denotes ‘ulcer.’) The coinage Gawzania is amenable to misantonymy, as the model term and the coinage responding to it share the feature of being place names.1

Rejective misantonymous distortion of a personal name It is well known that the United States had two Republican presidents from Texas called Bush, father and son. In the London Times Brodie reported (October 20, 1994: 15), under the title “Lone Star governor struggles to uproot the Shrub”: Ann Richards [...] is running for reelection as Governor of Texas against George W. Bush, a Republican and the eldest son of the former President. [...] She derides him as “all hat and no cattle.” [...] Her followers hand out bumper stickers saying: “Don’t elect the son-of-a-Bush.” They call him “Shrub.”

These are rejective nicknames, formed as distortions from the personal name of the butt of the derision. Son-of-a-Bush is evocative of son of a bitch. In contrast, Shrub is a misantonym, because it reasons by means of a mock-proportion: father : son = big : small = bush : shrub = Bush : Shrub 1

In the standard classification of the types of international folktales, tale type 1620*, The Conversation of Two Handicapped Persons “exists chiefly in three different versions” (Uther 2004, Vol. 2: 334), e.g., “A short man tells a one-eyed man that he needs another eye. The one-eyed man answers, ‘To see a giant such as yourself, I would need two more eyes.’”

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Classes of Proper Names within Misantonyms

As can be seen, there are various ways of considering opposites. Antonymy and grade of antonymy are discussed by Lehrer (1983), Lehrer and Lehrer (1982). Classes of opposition include reversives (Cruse 1979). When, in late antiquity, the famous rabbinic academy of Sura in Mesopotamia got a new rector, scholars in nearby Nizunia refused to defer to his authority. The rector then sent to them a faculty member, the prominent Hamnuna. Sura, they claimed, was not on a par with them. Willing to test his own stature, they proposed a question to which he had the scruples not to reply (short of improvising). They jeered in gloat: “You are not Hamnuna, but Qarnuna!,” i.e., “Prof. Hotfish, my foot. Some Mr. Coldfish you are” (Babylonian Talmud, tractate Qiddushin, 25a). Elsewhere, I treat this anecdote as an example of misantonyms, i.e., false opposites. Nizunian gloat may have implied, as well, patterning of Qarnuna after the word for ‘horn,’ as though: “a stupid beast, horns and all.” A medieval commentator, Rashi (of Troyes, in Champagne), interpreted it as ‘idle’ (cf. idiomatic “sitting by the corners”), but related it to qarnona (to him, denoting ‘market’), as though the nickname stood for: “one who has squandered time at the marketplace” and didn’t study enough. Giuseppe Gabriele, an Italian born in 1935 in Tunisia and who lived there until 1964, is the author of an autobiography (Gabriele 2003), in which a major theme is the multiple identities (sometimes distinct, and sometimes enmeshed into each other) in the multicultural society of colonial-age Tunisia. His paternal grandfather, whose name was also Giuseppe Gabriele (for his family, Nonno Peppino), was from the island of Pantellería, off Sicily. An active socialist, life for him became difficult under Fascist rule, as he was kept under surveillance. Therefore, in 1928 he moved to Tunisia, joining his brother who was already living there. He died in Tunisia in 1960. In the late 1940s, the Christian Democrats were Italy’s ruling party. The Bloc of the Left was competing against it, being the coalition of the Socialists and the Communists. At that time, the Socialists were known as the Partito Socialista Italiano di Unità Proletaria (PSIUP). In 1947, the chances of the Bloc of the Left of winning over the country (crucial elections were to be held in 1948) were dramatically reduced, as one of the leaders of the Resistance, Giuseppe Saragat (b. Turin, 1898, d. Rome, 1988; the family name is stressed on the first syllable: Sàragat), who had been the president of the Constituent Assembly in 1946, led the secession from the PSIUP of the party’s right wing in January 1947 and established a party of Social Democrats, the

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Partito Socialista dei Lavoratori Italiani (PSLI), which became the Partito Socialista Democratico Italiano (PSDI) in 1952. Saragat was the founding general secretary of both the PSLI and PSDI. Saragat was deputy prime minister of Italy in 1947-1950 and 1954-1954. In the early 1960s, Saragat supported the left to centre governments and was foreign minister in 1963-1964. In 1964-1971, he was the President of the Italian Republic. Because of his course of action in 1947, Saragat was deeply resented by those, in the Left, who had no qualms about seeing Italy governed by the Communists along with the Socialists. In his autobiography, Gabriele (2003: 52) relates that Grandpa Peppino travelled to Pantelleria in order to vote at the referendum of 1946, which overthrew the monarchy and established the republic. Nevertheless, by 1948 he was utterly disillusioned and returned his member card to the Socialist Party. What had caused him to lose interest in politics, out of dejection, was the fattaccio (‘outrageous deed’) of Saragat, whom he then nicknamed Sara Can. This nickname is clearly misantonymous: the family name Saragat is mockingly segmented, so that gatt(o) for ‘cat’ is detected and replaced with can(e) for ‘dog.’ It must be said that Saragat was a man of integrity, head and shoulders above most other politicians, and yet he was deeply resented by many both on the Left and on the Right. The Communists in particular had some serious reason for grievance, as allegedly their party’s cashier took their cash and gave it to Saragat’s party along with his own allegiance. On the Right, those disliking Saragat would usually refer to him in private as quel beone (‘that drunkard’) (in West Germany, that used to be a jibe against Willy Brandt). I once heard a man from the Right, who was himself known to imbibe copiously, refer to Saragat as quel fantoccio (‘that puppet’). Yet, one would think they had reason to be grateful. The United States, during the Cold War, are known to have been appreciative of Saragat distancing part of the Socialists from their mainstream that was keen on the alliance with the Communists.

When the metanalysis of a personal name subserves a function that is not primary rejective of that person Consider the following riddle I made up in Italian: Domanda: Raccontate, in quattro parole, la storia dell’Indonesia indipendente. Risposta: Sukarno, giukarno, Suharto, giuharto.

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An English translation follows: Q: Please tell, in just four words, the history of independent Indonesia. A: Sukarno [the first president and dictator, his name being playfully interpreted in Italian as ‘Up with Karno’], giukarno [‘Down with Karno’: Generals Suharto and Nasution taking over in 1966, albeit keeping Sukarno as a puppet president until 1968, in the aftermath of the 1965 failed Communist coup and the quite truculent popular reaction to it], Suharto [playfully interpreted in Italian as ‘Up with Harto’], giuharto [‘Down with Harto’: Suharto’s planned retirement from the presidency in 1994 resulted in tumults].

This joke distorts the names of two Indonesian politicians, not so much with a rejective function, but arguably in order to satisfy the request of the question, that the reply must be concise.

Nicknames formed by misantonymously denying some element in the name of a different, famous character The Times Magazine, Vol. 4, No. 2, of January 14, 1995, published (on p. 4) a hostile caricature (drawn by Peter Brookes) of Boris Yeltsin, remarkably laden with elements from a standard anti-Russian repertoire. The layout is like a poster announcing an opera (“Now touring in Chechenia,” a country invaded at that time) (see Figure 2). The menacing human figure was in black and white, against a red backdrop. The Russian president was depicted as an ancient tsar (perhaps reminiscing of Ivan the Terrible). In his right hand, he holds a missile (instead of a sceptre), while in his left hand, the imperial orb is replaced with a bomb with a lit fuse. Above, in a Roman script vaguely imitating Cyrillic, this inscription: In white: In red: In red:

KREMLIN OPERA presents BORIS NOTGOODENOUGH

(with a gratuitous “PLUS FULL SUPPORTING POGROM”)—a pun on the title of Mussorgsky’s opera Boris Godunov and on the name of its eponymous tsar. While strongly redolent of misantonymy, this coinage is not incongruent, as it literally conveys what is supposed to be (in the intentions of the caricaturist) an apt description of the concept depicted. It is a mere response to the opera title. Nevertheless, it suggests a reinterpretation of the latter: Godunov being playfully analysed as Goodenough and this in

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turn is being denied. The rejective nickname Boris Notgoodenough is therefore amenable to misantonymy.

Figure 2. The “Boris Notgoodenough” caricature of Boris Yeltsin, drawn by Peter Brookes and published in The Times Magazine of January 14, 1995. Red is shown as grey. By kind permission (given on February 23, 1995) of the copyright holder, Times Newspapers Limited in London.

Here is another example. A local newspaper from South East London, the Bexley Times of September 27, 2007, published (under the rubric “[Times] Diary”) an unsigned report headlined “What will ‘not so flash’ Gord say?”—the reference being to the then Labour prime minister Gordon Brown (Gord is an abbreviated form, apparently dictated by the width in which the headline had to fit). The headline was suggesting that in comparison to Flash Gordon, the character from the comics, Gordon brown was found wanting. The subject of the report was the imminent divorce announced by a Labour Member of Parliament (MP) in Greenwish, a tradition ally Labour borough bordering on the usually Tory borough of Bexley. A photograph of that MP and his wife, dating from ten years earlier, was published under

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the headline. Moreover, the report also informed the public that a recruitment agency of which that MP was director “has reportedly earned nearly £1.9 million in consultancy fees from the Olympic Delivery Authority.” The first two paragraphs of the report were as follows: WHILE Gordon Brown’s first party conference speech was praised as a ‘breath of fresh air’ by traditionalists and modernists alike, one Labour MP used this week to air his dirty laundry. Greenwich and Woolwich MP Nick Raynsford (or Wyvill, if you prefer to use his real name) decided to announce his imminent divorce after an affair with his former aide.

The report concluded: So while Brown pledged a fresh future with his pledge to ‘stand up for Britain and British values’ this week, Mr Raynsford appears to have harked back to the sleaze and secretarial affairs that dogged Tony Blair’s premiership. It’s hardly the fresh start that ‘Not Flash’ Gordon was hoping for.

Playfulness and the name of a London synagogue: Chiding a community centre by distorting its name This section is about a misantonymously coined mock-place-name which is also the misantonymous distortion of the name of a community centre: Kinprofit. It misantonymously responds to an actual (micro)toponym, Kinloss Gardens. A newspaper columnist, Clive Lawton, was chiding a particular community centre and synagogue in the London Jewish News (February16, 2000: 19): Kinloss Gardens is a vast, echoing mall of a place. It reeks of ostentation and the supreme confidence of north-west London Jewry in the 1960s. [...] What it does have in abundance, though, is meeting spaces. [...] What to do with the empty space? These days of tightening belts and deficit organisations, Kinloss must become Kinprofit and so they hire out their halls to whosever will pay the price. Well, not quite. [...]

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A name for a car model, coined by misantonymy from the name of the manufacturer Gold (1985) and Aldrich (1964) discussed American English nouns ending in -mobile. Gold mentions the fact that “Oldsmobile introduced its Young mobile in 1967.” This misantonym is quite interesting in that it was obviously intended to derive a double benefit: from the appeal of young, as well as from the prestige of the brand name Oldsmobile. Presumably, the intention was to convey the notion that old inside the name Oldsmobile should not be associated with something staid, only fit for older generations. In an age worshipping youth (and this was the case of the 1960s indeed), Young mobile was reaching out to affluent young people or such people who wanted to feel young. At the same time, the name Young mobile was not in isolation: it derived its marketing value from the fact that it was responding to the name Oldsmobile and that at the same time, the name for the model had originated with the manufacturer of the car, like the car itself.

Names for perfumes responding to each other ʌ = 3.1415926535897932384626433832795... is the ratio of the circumference of a circle to its diameter. The approximation that number, 22/7, is a fraction equal to the rational number whose integer part is 3 and whose infinite decimals have a period 143857, that is, the number is 3.142857142857142857... A former colleague of mine, Tony Mann, teaching mathematics, sent out this circular on May 7, 1999: You may have seen the perfume ads for Givenchy “Pi” ~ (“beyond infinity”). Apparently there is a cheap imitation in the discount stores called “22/7.”

The name for the second product is misantonymous indeed, because ʌ (i.e., pi) is not a rational number (rational numbers are those numbers which can be expressed as the ratio of two integers). The infinite number of the decimals of pi is not periodical (no facilitation for discovering what all decimals are). The name for the cheap imitation is the rational number 22/7 and this suggests that if you content yourself with a cheaper imitation, then buy the product so named, which is merely an approximation of pi. Bear in mind that if you use a calculator in “extended precision,” errors accumulate during repeated operations on irrational numbers: for example, as the calculator will truncate pi to 32 digits,

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repeated operations on pi will lose accuracy as the number of operations increases.

Names of articles and names of periodicals The Times Literary Supplement published an intelligent review by Morris Dickstein (2010) of a history of Commentary magazine. His review’s title, “Unmaking It,” is patterned (arguably by polemical reference to the magazine eventually painting itself into a staunchly hawkish corner) after Norman Podhoretz’s controversial memoir from 1967, Making It. Let us turn to the names of periodicals, one name being a misantonym. Corcoran wrote (1986): If one bit is a bit, eight bits a byte, what’s four bits? Gone are the days when four bits made up half a dollar. Instead, the current standard of exchange puts four bits at half a byte, or one nybble. (Or is it nibble?)

The coiner was Mike Harvey: “Mike Harvey, publisher of Nibble magazine, Concord, Mass., and a former IBM employee,” is quoted (Corcoran 1986) as reminiscing: “Since byte had to do with picking a piece of information out of memory, I thought a nybble was just a bit of a byte”; and: Byte was the flagship of the personal computer field. Since we are appealing to the home owner, and were little guys ourselves, Nibble was a way of taking a whimsical poke at Byte. And we’ve always played on the word; we help nibble away at the mysteries of the Apple home computer.

A misantonymous name for an award The Nobel Prize was named after the Swedish industrialist Alfred Nobel. The literal sense of his family name is ‘noble[man].’ There also exists an award, Ig Nobel Prize (Ig Nobel is pronounced like ignoble). It is a parody of the Nobel Prizes and is awarded each year in early October (around the time the recipients of the Nobel Prizes are announced) for awkward scientific research: ten projects that “first make people laugh, and then make them think.” The recipients receive the Ig Nobel Prize at Harvard University. The organisers are Annals of Improbable Research, a scientific humour magazine. The first Ig Nobels were awarded in 1991. The prizes are presented by genuine Nobel Laureates, originally at a ceremony in a lecture hall at MIT but now in Harvard University’s Sanders

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Theatre. The ceremony is followed a few days later by the Ig Informal Lectures at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, in which laureates have the opportunity to explain their achievements and their relevance to the general public. If such explanations become too longwinded, they are interrupted by the cries of Miss Sweety Poo (or Sweety-Poo), a little girl who repeatedly cries out “Please stop. I’m bored” in a high-pitched voice. The awards ceremony is traditionally closed with the words: “If you didn’t win a prize—and especially if you did—better luck next year!”2

There has been some institutional unhappiness about this parody prize: “In 1995, Robert May, Baron May of Oxford, the chief scientific adviser to the British government, requested that the organizers no longer award Ig Nobel prizes to British scientists.”3 The name Ig Nobel Prize is a pun, actually a misantonym, on ignoble and Nobel Prize: it was named after the Nobel Prize, by selecting such an opposite of ‘noble,’ namely, ignoble ‘ignoble,’ which contains the word noble, which in turn was then replaced with Nobel, thus yielding Ig Nobel. It must be said however that:4 The official pronunciation used during the ceremony is IPA: / ʙଉŸůnoƘ'bũl/ (“ig no-BELL”). It is not pronounced like the word ignoble (IPA: /Ÿů'noƘbԥl/, “ig-NOH-buhl”). In Swedish, IG is short for “icke godkänt,” a grade in school similar to F, or fail. In Russian, the name is usually translated as “ɒɧɨɛɟɥɟɜɫɤɚɹ ɩɪɟɦɢɹ” (Shnobel Prize). Shnobel is a slang term for a large nose, evoking an image of Pinocchio.

Other mock awards include the Golden Raspberry Awards for bad film work;5 the Darwin Awards for fatally foolish behaviour;6 the Pigasus Award (a portmanteau from Pegasus + pig) for paranormal fraud (in the

2

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ig_Nobel_Prize (accessed September 2012). The official website of the Ig Nobel prize is at: http://improbable.com/ig/. The list of past winners, with the reasons for thier prize, can be found at: http://www.improb.com/ig/ig-pastwinners.html. 3 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ig_Nobel_Prize (accessed September 2012). 4 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ig_Nobel_Prize (accessed September 2012). 5 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Golden_Raspberry_Awards (accessed September 2012). 6 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Darwin_Awards (accessed September 2012).

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United States);7 the Bent Spoon Award for paranormal fraud (in Australia);8 and the Stella Awards for outrageous lawsuits.9

Concluding remarks Binary relational symbols I use for misantonyms equivalently are: model term Ż“Ź” misantonym misantonym “Ż”Ź model term

Misantonyms are not necessarily about proper names. For example, a reader’s letter (entitled “Girl’s talk,” by R. Darlington) in the Londonbased Woman magazine (April 24, 1982: 7) reported as follows: “My three-year-old daughter was outraged at being unfairly blamed for her brother’s noisy games. ‘It’s not me being boisterous,’ she complained furiously, ‘I’m girlsterous!’” The little girl was analysing the word boysterous naively, without intending to produce a misantonym. Another example is, in English, blackout Ż“Ź” brownout for a lesser disruption of power supply. Here, the kind of opposition is a matter of degree. This is also the case of this other example (Woman magazine of April 9, 1966: 34): “Doris [Day] herself says: ‘I wear a minimum of make-up—in fact, I’d call it a make-down! [...].’” Here is an example in which the misantonymous coinage expresses a reinforced degree, rather than a lessened degree. Henderson (1988) is concerned with the poetics and rhetoric of the Latin poet Lucan, Nero’s admiring friend turned into foe and victim. Concerning to Henderson’s essay, a reviewer, Dehon (1992: 244), points out its attention to Lucan’s wordplays. Lucan formed sort of a superlative out of the compound for ‘civil war,’ by expressing the superlative (in the very opening of the Bellum Civile, at I, 1) with this wording: “Bella [...] plus quam civilia.” Literally, this means: “Wars [...] more than civil.” Dehon explains that this was Lucan’s way to convey the concept that “la guerre civile opposant Pompée à César est excessive” (‘the civil war opposing Pompey to Caesar is excessive’). If a civil war especially atrocious is ‘a war more than civil,’ one may apply an Italian idiom “Piú ... di cosí si muore”—derived from an improvised gag by the Roman comedian Ettore Petrolini (1886-1936)— and say that ‘more civil than that, one dies.’ Relatively, it is often the case that misantonymy concerns proper names. In this chapter, we have sketched a typology of classes of proper 7

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pigasus_Award (accessed September 2012). http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bent_Spoon_Award (accessed September 2012). 9 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stella_Award (accessed September 2012). 8

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names affected by misantonymy. Sometimes it is a modified version of a proper name that is the misantonym. For example, a modified version of the title of a book: “Clockwork Kumquat” was the title of R.Z. Sheppard’s review (Time, February 14, 1972: 56) of an allegedly minor novel (One Hand Clapping) by Anthony Burgess, the author of A Clockwork Orange. Like puns, sometimes a misantonym is resorted to in a literary work. Maurizio De Lullo, born in 1941 in Rome, is a painter, as well as a satirical poet in the Roman dialect. One of De Lullo’s poems (De Lullo and Levi 1991: 72) is set on the motorway from Rome to Fiumicino airport. Two cars have stopped at some station, and while the VIP they each were carrying is inside the building to use the restroom, one of the two drivers explains that he is carrying the president of Armenia, that they are late for his plane, so would the other driver please let him bypass him once they resume their trip. The other driver, who was carrying the Pope, is indignant: “M’hai detto ’n prospero! Er presidente Armeno! / M’avessi detto «Arpiù»! Ma quello è «Arméno»!!!” That is to say: “It’s quite stupid, what you told me! The president armeno! / Had you told me ar più (‘the one who is more, the most’)! But that one is ar meno (‘the lesser one’)!!!”

References Aldrich, R.I. 1964. -mobile. In American Speech 39: 77-79. Binsted, K., H. Pain and G. Ritchie. 1997. Children’s Evaluation of Computer-Generated Punning Riddles. Pragmatics and Cognition 5 (2): 305-354. Corcoran, E. 1986. Technically Speaking [column]. IEEE Spectrum 1986 (month?): 16. Cruse, D.A. 1979. Reversives. Linguistics 17: 957-966. De Palma, P., and E.J. Weiner. 1992. Riddles: Accessibility and Knowledge Representation. Proceedings of COLING-92, Nantes, France, August 23-28. http://acl.ldc.upenn.edu/C/C92/C92-4176.pdf (accessed September 2012). Dehon, P.J. 1992. Review (in French) of: A.J. Boyle (ed.), The Imperial Muse: Ramus Essays on Roman Literature of the Empire, to Juvenal Through Ovid (Victoria, Australia: Aureal Publications, 1988). Latomus: Revue d’Études Latines 51 (1): 243-245. De Lullo, M. (paintings, poems), and P. Levi (introd.) 1991. La Roma di De Lullo tra versi e colore. Milan: Giorgio Mondadori & Associati Editori.

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Dickstein, M. 2010. Unmaking It (reviewing Running Commentary by Benjamin Balint, Public Affairs). The Times Literary Supplement 5603/5604 (August 20 & 27): 7-8. Gabriele, G. 2003. Quel centimentro in meno G. Marchetti (ed.). Pessano c. Bornago (province of Milan): Mimep-Docete. Gold, D.L. 1985. Nouns Ending in -Mobile. American Speech 60 (4): 362366. Henderson, J. 1988. Lucan: The Word at War. In The Imperial Muse: Ramus Essays on Roman Literature of the Empire, to Juvenal Through Ovid, A.J. Boyle (ed.), 122-164. Victoria, Australia: Aureal Publications. Jastrow, M. 1886-1903. Dictionary of the Targumim, the Talmud Babli and Yerushalmi, and the Midrashic Literature (2 vols., New York & London, printed Leipzig: Trübner & Co., and London: Luzac, 18861903). New York: Choreb (2 vols. in 1, 1926, later reprinted in Jerusalem: Chorev); London: E. Shapiro [i.e., Shapiro, Vallentine] (1926); New York: Title Publ. (1943); New York: Pardes Publ. (1950, 2 vols.); and with a new title, Hebrew-Aramaic-English Dictionary… (2 vols., 1969). Also (with the standard title), New York: Judaica Press, 1971 (2 vols. in 1); New York: Jastrow Publishers, 1903, repr. 1967 (2 vols. in 1); Brooklyn: Shalom (2 vols., 1967); Peabody, Massachusetts: Hendrickson Publ., 2005 (in 1 vol. of 1736 pp.). Kaivola-Bregenhøj, A. (ed.). 2001. Riddles: Perspectives on the Use, Function and Change in a Folklore Genre. (Studia Fennica Folkloristica 10). Helsinki: Finnish Literary Society. Kleiber, W. 1992. Réflexes romans dans le franc de la Moselle. In Actes du XVIIIe Congrès International de Linguistique et de Philologie Romanes, Vol. 1: Romania submersa²Romania nova, D. Kremer (ed.), 23-34. Trier, Germany: Université de Trèves (Trier), 1986. Tübingen: Max Niemeyer Verlag. Lehrer, A. 1983. Comments. In QSem Round Table on Models of Lexical Structuring, Part II. Quaderni di Semantica 4 (2): 305-311. Lehrer, A., and K. Lehrer. 1982. Antonymy. Linguistics and Philosophy 5: 483-501. Nissan, E. 1999. A Formalism for Misantonyms. In Proceedings of the AISB’99 Symposium on Metaphor, Artificial Intelligence and Cognition, held under the umbrella of the 1999 Convention of the Society for the Study of Artificial Intelligence and the Simulation of Behaviour (AISB’99), Edinburgh, Scotland, 17-26. —. 2010 2011 . Going West vs. Going East: Ancient Greek, Roman, Carthaginian, Mauretanian, and Celtic Conceptions About or

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Involvement with the Ocean, What Early Rabbinic Texts Say About the Ocean and the Formation of the Mediterranean, and Beliefs About Reaching the Antipodes. MHNH [ȝȘȞȘ]: revista internacional de investigación sobre magia y astrología antíguas (Málaga) 10: 279-310. Overlaet, B. 2008. Great Balls of Fire? Pyrites, Meteorites and Meteorwrongs from Ancient Iran. Iranica Antiqua 43: 153-166. Pepicello, W., and T. Green. 1984. The Language of Riddles. Ohio State University. Ritchie, G., R. Manurung, H. Pain, A. Waller, and D. O’Mara. 2006. The STANDUP Interactive Riddle Builder. IEEE Intelligent Systems 21 (2): 67-69. Roller, D.W. 2003. The World of Juba II and Kleopatra Selene. London: Routledge. —. 2004. Scholarly Kings: The Fragments of Juba II of Mauretania, Archelaos of Kappadokia, Herod the Great and the Emperor Claudius. Chicago, Illinois: Ares Publishers. —. 2006. Through the Pillars of Herakles: Greco-Roman Exploration of the Atlantic. London: Routledge. Uther, H.-J. 2004. The Types of International Folktales: A Classification and Bibliography. Based on the System of Antti Aarne and Stith Thompson. Part I: Animal Tales, Tales of Magic, Religious Tales, and Realistic Tales, with an Introduction. Part II: Tales of the Stupid Ogre, Anecdotes and Jokes, and Formula Tales. Part III: Appendices. (Folklore Fellows Communications, vols. 284-286). Helsinki: Academia Scientiarum Fennica.

ON A FEW CATEGORIES OF PERSONAL NAMES CONSIDERED TO BE APT OR PARADOXICAL EPHRAIM NISSAN Introduction Onomastic punning is a phenomenon which spans a wide scope of name kinds. In this chapter, we are concerned with anthroponyms. Moreover, onomastic punning may take various forms. We are interested here in such “apt” circumstances which are detected in a personal name, in consideration of biographical elements (stable or even fleeting) possessed by the particular person who bears that name. I have a book in preparation about this subject. This chapter only uses a few of the multitude of examples I collected and, based on our small selection, we enucleate some categories or phenomena concerning personal names that turn out to be “apt.” Among “apt names” we find, for example, Arsène Wenger having been the manager of the English premiership football club Arsenal, or there having been a zoologist called Leo Pardi, or, in Hanoverian Britain, Sackville (a general) having been sacked and Impey (a judge) having been impeached. In Treasure’s Who’s Who in Early Hanoverian Britain (1992: 231-232) the story is told of John Manners, Marquis of Granby (17211770): A lieutenant-general in Germany under Ferdinand, he had the mortification of sharing in the failure of the cavalry to complete the splendid victory of Minden. Sackville, commanding the cavalry, would not move; Granby, in command of the second line, was about to charge on his own initiative when Sackville rode up and ordered him not to. What the troops thought may be considered unprintable; what Ferdinand said was that, had Granby been in command, the French would have been annihilated. Sackville was dismissed and Granby succeeded him.

You can replace Sackville was dismissed with Sackville was sacked. For this reason, Sackville turned out to be aptly named, by virtue of that particular episode.

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Treasure also relates (1992: 390): SIR ELIJAH IMPEY (1732-1809) became Chief Justice of Bengal in 1774, earned the threat of impeachment from his association with Warren Hastings and the celebrated verdict of Macaulay: ‘rich, quiet and infamous.’

In fact (Treasure 1992: 391): The alacrity with which Impey and his fellow judges were able to find Nand Kumar, the central figure in Francis’s attack upon Hastings, guilty of forgery was also held against him. [...] So he came home in 1783 to find a menacing temper among the Whigs. In 1788 he was impeached and sat under a remarkable display of oratory by Elliot, who moved himself and others to tears with his elegiac upon ‘the murdered rajah.’ The impeachment was not pressed and he was acquitted honourably. However, he discovered that the popular view did not die so easily, when he stood for Parliament at Stafford in 1790. [...]

“The murdered rajah” was Maharajah Nandakumara, executed in 1775 (see Stephen 1885). In an article about medieval onomastic wordplay, Nissan (forthcoming), I brought these other examples, such as, in our own days, a coincidence concerning a Briton who has had a lengthy career in the motor industry, and is also a philanthropist: Sir Trevor Chinn having a quite remarkable double chin; the n in Chinn is also double. On 23 November 2010, following a North Korean artillery attack on an island held by South Korea, on BBC Radio 4 during the news at 1:15 pm an American interviewee, Christopher Hill, said (deadpan serious): “Even Kim Jong-il, when he was not so ill, [...]” (and so forth). In the travel section of a London newspaper, Sylvia Kingsley, reported about visiting the island of Majorca. Among the other things, she wrote [(2000, p. 36)]: “The British poet, Robert Graves lived to be 100 years old in the lovely village of Deya, which is good recommendation. He is buried in the local cemetery.” Of course, there is nothing exceptional about the fact that some historical character eventually died. The fact he lived to be 100 is far more remarkable. In an age when Britons did not cremate their dead as yet, there is nothing strange about a dead Briton being buried at some cemetery. What makes the name Graves apt, in the quotation, is that the brief paragraph about Graves in the newspaper article was exclusively concerned with the circumstances of his death and burial. Nevertheless, the text itself made nothing of the coincidence that the name of the person concerned is Graves. It is just an implicit potential.

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Onomastic punning across cultures: Bible and Talmud Onomastic punning has been shown by Garsiel1 (1991) to be pervasive, though usually not overtly elaborated about, in the Hebrew Bible. (Bilingual wordplay is also present in the Bible; see Rendsburg 1988.) Over elaboration on wordplay typifies midrashic punning in the early rabbinic literature. Onomastic punning in texts ascribed to talmudic Sages from the Roman or Sasanian period is not necessarily about biblical characters. Such punning sometimes concerns some contemporary person or a stereotypical (or even hyperbolical type) character. A good example of the latter is found in the Babylonian Talmud at Nedarim, 66b, concerning a wife alleged to have several physical 1

One also comes across punning in the Qur’Ɨn: this is the subject of Rippin (1994). Cf. Rosenthal (1956). Humour in the Hebrew Bible is the subject of a book edited by Radday and Brenner (1990). Bear in mind however that one sometimes comes across the concept of unhumorous puns (see Smith 1979, for ancient India). The very credibility of the detection of humorous intentions in texts from ancient cultures (unless there is evidence that items were treated as humorous indeed) is a vexed issue. Let us mention its occurrence in Jewish studies. Whether there is or there isn’t sarcasm in an Arabic medieval letter from the Cairo Geniza (a huge trove of manuscripts and fragments from the attic of an ancient synagogue) is briefly discussed in Goitein’s so-called India Book (published posthumously as Goitein and Friedman 2008: 186, fn. 16). An arguably poignant example follows, of the problem of whether humour was originally intended. In 1889, M[onsieur] Marcano published “Caricature précolombienne des Cerritos.” Marcano pointed out the existence of grotesque images from native cultures of Latin America (e.g., “M. Désire Charnay a publié l’image grotesque d’un guerrier teuchtli, exhumé par lui du cimetière de Tenenepanco”) and claimed that these are samples of preColumbian caricature: “des échantillons de la caricature précolombienne.” In particular, Marcano was concerned with an image from Cerritos, claiming that it was a caricature deriding a Spanish clergyman: “Il s’agit donc ici d’une caricature, et vraisemblablement c’est un religieux espagnol qu’on a voulu ridiculiser, ainsi que l’indiquent le costume et la coiffure.” Now, I hope there would be a near consensus among my present readers that even without definitely excluding any humorous intent of the originators and early audience of those Native American images, Marcano’s confidence that a caricature (as meant in modern Western Europe) was intended was misplaced. This is an example of over-interpreting an image. When it comes to reconstructing authorial intentions concerning text or imagery from a bygone era, sometimes a critic feels confident enough to exclude humorous intent. While discussing the Hague Bestiary (MMW 10.B.25, written in France in the mid-fifteenth century, “Douai 711 was probably its model”), Clark (2006: 77) states: “While trying to place trees behind animals, as the Douai painters had done, he sometimes creates the appearance of a tree ‘growing’ from the animal’s belly, a comical effect that was certainly not his intent.”

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blemishes (i.e., hers is a grotesque body and she is an archetype for this) and who is aptly named Likhlukhít, a name transparently derived from the noun likhlúkh ‘dirt.’2 Of course, across cultures there is no dearth of instances when given persons are found to be aptly named, les bien nommés.3 Sometimes, anecdotes were told about nomen omen, such as the story (which I discuss in Nissan, submitted) from the Babylonian Talmud at Yoma 83b about an innkeeper who turned out to be untrustworthy and who eventually killed his wife (the translation is from the English Soncino edition, Epstein 1935-1952, and the brackets appear there): Also, R. Meir and R. Judah and R. Jose were on a journey together. (R. Meir always paid close attention to people’s names, whereas R. Judah and R. Jose paid no such attention to them). Once as they came to a certain place, they looked for a lodging, and as they were given it, they said to him [the innkeeper]: What is your name?—He replied: Kidor. Then he [R. Meir] said: Therefrom it is evident that he is a wicked man, for it is said: For a generation [Ki-dor] very forward are they.

The innkeeper’s name, Kidor, is homiletically explicated based upon ž¨ž ´Ÿ¥Ÿ®ž´ ²Ÿ £¥ Because (ki £¥) a generation (dor they are (hemma ž¨ž),

²Ÿ) of reversals (tahpukhot ´Ÿ¥Ÿ®ž´)

the continuation in Moses’ grim forecast in Deuteronomy 32:20 being the explanation of the previous hemistich: “children in whom G-d has no trust.” Moses’ reference is to a future generation who would cast religion aside.

2

The vowelling in Jastrow’s dictionary (1886-1903: 585, s.v. yafe, is with [a], not [i]: “it was nice (appropriate) that they named her lakhlukhit (aversion),” in his translation. 3 I have a book in progress on this subject. Sometimes cultural texts do remark about the onomastic aptness (see, e.g., in Nissan, forthcoming), and some other times there is just the potential for such detection. In the typology of international folklore, tale motif Z183.0.1.3.1§ is “Name that fits the name bearer”; it occurs for example in the tale of Musrnjr and Zayn al-MawƗ‫܈‬if in The Thousand and One Nights. “§ (Section sign) at the end of a number indicates a new motif added by Hasan El-Shamy to the Thompson tale-motif system.” See Shamy (2006), Thompson (1955-1958).

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In the Soncino translation, the homiletic wordplay about ²Ÿ£¥ Kidor (the person’s name) and ²Ÿ £¥ ki dor (occurring in a biblical verse) gets this note: “Ibid. XXXII, 20. The name ‘Kidor’ suggested to R. Meir one who does not deserve confidence. That, as he later explained, was an idiosyncrasy of his own, amounting at best to an intuitive caution.” The Soncino translation of the tale proceeds as follows: R. Meir went, waited there all day, and then took the purse with him. In the morning they [the Rabbis] said to him: ‘Give us our purses.’ He said: There never was such a thing! R. Meir then said to them: Why don’t you pay attention to people’s names? They said: Why have you not told this [before]. Sir? He answered: consider this but a suspicion. I would not consider that a definite presumption! Thereupon they took him [the host] into a shop [and gave him wine to drink]. Then they saw lentils on his moustache. They went to his wife and gave her that as a sign, and thus obtained their purses and took them back. Whereupon he went and killed his wife.

Still within Jewish late antique literature: Sometimes claims are made, in the Aggadic Midrash (or, more broadly, in the Aggadah, i.e., non-legal material), concerning whether a name fits the bearer. Within homiletic exegesis, Genesis Rabbah 26:18 claims that the names in the antediluvian genealogy signal rebellion (mardut) and proceeds to demonstrate this by analysing a few such names homiletically, showing that (like the bearers), the very names were associated with rebellion against the Creator. Numbers Rabbah 16:4 applies Moses’ grim considerations in Deuteronomy 32:20, “ki dor tahpukhot hemma,” “Because (ki) a generation (dor) of reversals (tahpukhot) they are (hemma),” to the Ten Explorers who (unlike Joshua and Caleb) reported back to the Children of Israel by besmirching the Promised Land, trying to dissuade the people from going there. Numbers Rabbah 16:7 elaborates about the names of the explorers. Having dealt with protective measures encapsulated in Joshua’s and Caleb’s names, the text generalises: There are persons whose names are nice and whose deeds are ugly, [and ones] whose names are ugly and whose names are nice, [and ones] whose names are nice and whose deeds are nice, [and ones] whose names and deeds are ugly.

The text then provides examples for three of these four categories. For example, the Returnees from the Babylonian Exile had ugly names but nice deeds, whereas “those whose names are ugly and whose deeds are

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ugly are the Explorers.”4 The name of one of them, Setur, is then analysed homiletically by way of example in Numbers Rabbah 16:7.

Disconfirmed expectations In modern Western cultures (unlike in some other cultures, such as in the Hebrew Bible or in name-giving among present-day Zulus), there is a cultural expectation (at least modern Western) to the following effect, concerning personal names from real life: P1: One’s personal name (typically bestowed soon after birth) has nothing to do with what one’s eventual individual characteristics or life events (or: with what one is going to do in life).

On occasion, however, we may come across persons we consider to be aptly named: it turns out that the name literally befits the bearer’s life events or individual characteristics. Put otherwise, consider the proposition: “The dictum Nomen omen is rubbish. No right-thinking modern person can take it seriously.” And then we come across such situations in which we would rather say: “Not so.” Arguably, dramatic irony is involved. In the next two sections, we are going to briefly consider how we could interpret irony in such onomastic situations.

On the irony of paradoxical names Sometimes, we may come across a person whose name appears to be neither apt, nor insignificant for the given situation, but rather paradoxical. With “paradoxical names,” the situation is somewhat different from the mere proposition that Nomen omen is not verified. Rather (and much more pointedly), out of a broad spectrum of possibilities, what does happen to be instantiated for the name bearer, is exactly the opposite of what the personal name literally implies, so that the binary opposition stands out against the backdrop of the spectrum of possible values, which is not binary. 4

There also exist the motif of characters (giants) whose names have sinister significance (this being motif Z100.1, which occurs in the tale of ‘AlƗ’ al-DƯn Abnj al-ShƗmƗt, in The Thousand and One Nights), and the motif of a name as a harbinger of evil (this being El-Shamy’s motif N120.2§, which occurs in the tale of Budnjr and Jubayr ibn ‘Umayr, again in The Thousand and One Nights). See Shamy (2006).

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“Paradoxical names” are ironic because of dramatic irony. Nevertheless, one may as well state the irony involved in terms of echoic mention in the sense of Sperber and Wilson (1981, cf. Wilson and Sperber 1992). Consider the following proposition, which allows that P1 may have exceptions: P2(E1): Oftentimes the literal sense of personal names does not reflect actual features of the bearer, yet out of many possibilities of eventuation of personal features, I would expect X, as being the literal sense implied by this particular personal name, if not actually to eventuate, then at the very least not to be spectacularly flouted by the precise opposite of X. Comment: “The personal name literally implies X,” as a proposition, is different from “The personal name literally echoes X.” Yet, if I am in a playful mood, then coming across “Not X” (quite the opposite of X, out of many possible values) motivates me to posture as though that particular name would have made me expect X, or at most that I would not find X verified, but definitely not that precisely the opposite of X be verified.

But then we may come across the following exception to P2: P2(E2): “Not X” is conspicuous in the name bearer’s individual characteristics or life events. Out of many possible values (as well as in contrast to indeterminacy that would have been possible, had the name been different), it is precisely the value that is opposite to X that turns out to be blatantly the case of the name bearer.

Dramatic irony in paradoxical names With paradoxical names, an interpretation in terms of dramatic irony is of interest. In the words of Altes (2005: 262): Dramatic, or more generally, situational irony shares with verbal irony a contradiction in evaluative insight. It is the observation of a sharp conflict between a given assessment of a state of affairs and reality (‘isn’t it ironic that …’). This type of irony is much exploited in drama, especially in tragedy (see Thirlwall’s [1833] pioneering study). Oedipus’s appreciation of his situation—a king well in power and happily married—appears a dramatic misjudgement for a better-informed audience. Here the ironist is variously conceived of as life, fate, or God. In literary narrative, this kind of irony requires an analysis of the strategic distribution of knowledge, and of ‘discrepant awareness.’

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Paradoxical names can be considered as a special class of dramatic irony, such that: Name giver’s awareness: Ironist’s awareness:

The originator of the name X, e.g., a family name bestowed several generations earlier, presumably found X befitting actual features of the bearer. The ironist is either a tradent or the perceiver, or even the currently relevant bearer of the name (who in turn becomes a tradent if quipping about the name). “Not X” is conspicuous in the name bearer’s individual characteristics or life events. Out of many possible values (as well as in contrast to indeterminacy that would have been possible, had the name been different), it is precisely the value that is opposite to X that turns out to be blatantly the case of the name bearer.

Anne Boleyn, all over again There was, for example, the case of the late British Labour minister Robin Cook, who when his party came to power, dismissed from office the previous minister’s personal assistant and hurt her perspectives of finding new employment, by stating that it was impossible to work with her. It soon turned out to be the case that he wanted to free her post, so that he could install his paramour instead. The point of telling this story is that it does not matter that the name of the man was Cook, whereas he was a politician, then the Foreign Secretary, and next (when his radicalism and enthusiasm for any antiWestern cause stood in the way of premier Tony Blair’s relations with the United States) demoted to Speaker of the House of Commons. It does makes an impression that the personal assistant he had wronged, was bearing the unusual name Anne Boleyn, a namesake of Henry VIII’s hapless wife (who, incidentally, was beheaded in the car park of the Greenwich Park, near the gate I could see from my office window in 2000; her capital sentence was signed by the King in a place that now is under the gate of a palace across the street from the campus). That the secretary was the namesake of a famous woman who was badly wronged because the whims of the ruler were law, makes the secretary’s personal name especially apt to one wishing to punch at the politician’s image.

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Personal names in relation to place Open House, an independent organisation (openhouse.org.uk), holds a yearly initiative during a September weekend, when people are welcome to visit for free hundreds of architecturally interesting buildings in London. This is, to say it with their 2008 booklet (as usual, widely distributed through neighbourhood public libraries), “The capital’s greatest architectural showcase” (from the cover). One of the entries (on p. 63) in the chapter about Westminster is Home House (at 19 & 20 Portman Square): “Built in 1776 by [architect James] Wyatt with very fine interiors by [Robert] Adam. Was the London base of the Countess of Home and is probably the greatest surviving Georgian town house.” It does not come as a surprise that the Countess of Home had a home, but it is apt, given her name (or rather title), that her London home is “probably the greatest surviving Georgian town house.” An entry on p. 43, in the chapter on Kensington & Chelsea, describes St. Columba’s Church of Scotland in Pont Street: “Distinctive listed [i.e., officially protected] white building in ‘Swiss’ style replacing earlier Victorian building destroyed in WWII. Sanctuary retains sense of modernity. [Architect:] Sir Edward Maufe 1955. Entry [that visitors are permitted]: sanctuary, chapel, library, Kirk Session room, lower hall, Columbarium, tower.” The literal sense of the Latin name Columba is ‘dove,’ and it would have been unusual if the columbarium on the premises had been, as per the original sense of the term in Latin, a dovecote. It is unsurprising that the columbarium on the church premises is a structure in which human remains are pigeonholed, adjacent to each other and on several tiers. It is still striking that the church of St. Columba has a columbarium, as the standard expectation of older churches in Britain (and this used to be a Victorian church) is that there are graves in the churchyard. In the case at hand, instead, this is replaced with the more compact columbarium. Also consider that, of course, puns are not confined to such situations that one of the terms involved is an onomastic item. In the same 2008 Open House booklet, on p. 62, in the chapter on Westminster, there is an entry for the “former Conservative Club (HSBC offices)” (at 78 St. James’s Street). The description reads as follows: “Grand and monumental building with rich carvings and spectacular decorated saloon at its heart. Conserved and refurbished to replace 2 wings and provide new glazing to atrium at junction of new and old sites. Grade II* list. Sidney Smirke & George Basevi/Squire Partners 1844/2004” (added underlining).

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Pun detection across languages, when quite contrived In 2008, the New York-based publisher Facts On File published the book A Brief History of Russia, by Michael Kort, and A Brief History of the Netherlands, by Paul F. State. To speakers of Italian, as in Italian the adjective corto means ‘short,’ Kort is likely to appear to be an apt name for the author of an admittedly “Brief History.” Even though only such bilinguals would take notice (without being told) and appreciate this, the degree of aptness is perhaps higher than for an author called State (albeit this is a rare family name), who wrote a book on the Netherlands, which is a state. The likely reason is that the inference is not immediate: the title of the book mentions a particular country, and it is left to you to infer that this is a country that is an independent national state. It is important to realise that it is not necessarily the case that an onomastic pun would be evident. Sometimes you perceive it if you are fluent in at least two languages, and it is in this language but not in the other that you may detect the pun. But sometimes the degree to which the pun is easily detected is variable. Sometimes, you need to contrive a trajectory that would connect the name to what may makes it funny (unless you are delighted by the trajectory itself, by the time you arrive the fun may be gone or to only be tepid). Arthur G. Haas authored a book about Metternich’s involvement in the shaping of Austrian policies concerning nationalities, in the aftermath of Napoleon’s defeat. In an appendix, Haas (1964) supplied short biographies of Austrian officials appearing in the book, and in its introduction, he pointed out (ibid.: 182): Occasionally the various sources, from which the information given here was gathered, contradict each other on particular items. Moreover, for lesser-known personalities, exact information is sometimes scarce. Thus, it is to be hoped that the reader will be understanding, should he come across some errors in these short biographies—which are meant to be no more than a convenience. [...]

I have underlined two points in the text where contradiction is stated explicitly or such that ‘even though’ would be suitable wording. Now, let us consider the very first entry in the prosopography (i.e., the list of short biographies): APPONYI, Anton Rudolf, Gf. [i.e.: Graf, Count], 1782-1852. From old Hungarian nobility. Long and varied dipl. career. Envoy in Stuttgart, then Karlsruhe. 1815 Florence. 1816 Rome. 1825 Naples. 1826-48 ambass. in Paris. Confidant of Mett[ernich], became after 1815 one of the most

38

Categories of Personal Names Considered to Be Apt or Paradoxical influential diplomats of his time. Patron of the arts as well as industry. His diaries provide a good source for the history of the Restoration Period (Vingt-cinq Ans à Paris, 4 vls., 1913-4).

Consider now that in Hebrew, the word af (ʳˋ) denotes both ‘nose’ and ‘also.’ When a noun, the stem of its inflected forms is app-. For example, appí (ʩʑ˝ʠʔ ) ‘my nose,’ or, as an adjective, ‘nasal.’ It is not unconceivable to mock-interpret Apponyi in relation to a neologised Hebrew adjective apponi (ʩʑʰˣ˝ʔʠ) in some semantic relation to ‘nose.’ (Is there anything special about Apponyi’s nose, in extant portraits, if any?) Moreover, the various manners of saying ‘notwithstanding’ in Hebrew include: x ‘al áf (ʳˋ ʬʔʲ), literally, as though: ‘over + also/nose’; x af ‘al pí še- (ʚʓˇ ʩʑ˝ ʬʔʲ ʳˋ), literally: ‘also + over + mouth-of + that.’ There are at least two different manners to make Apponyi’s family name appear to be apt, in the given textual context: x To reformulate in Hebrew the advertence placed just before the entry for Apponyi, and to word the advertence in such a manner that contradiction would be expressed (at least in: “will be understanding, notwithstanding possible errors”) by resorting to one of those compounds containing af (ʳˋ). x To provide such Hebrew wording that contains af (ʳˋ) in the very entry for Apponyi, e.g., in rendering “Patron of the arts as well as (ve-af ‘and also’) industry.” Note moreover that a family name could even be a “catch-all” name, in that two opposite values for a given attribute are captured. This is the case of the following example: Claude Lamoral, prince de Ligne, lived in the seventeenth century and was a contemporary of Mazarin. His family name, Lamoral, could befit two opposite situations: x if his line (ligne) of conduct was moral, then Lamoral could be befittingly segmented as la morale (‘ethics,’ ‘the moral’); x if, instead, he was amoral, then Lamoral could be suitably interpreted as l’amoral (‘the amoral person’).

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A few paradoxical names In a letter to a London magazine, Woman’s Own, Helen Levin, from Stanmore, Middlesex, signalled (Levin 1980) “the name of the school’s caretaker—R.W. Careless!” Lisa Crook is police superintendent in the London borough of Lewisham. Given the slangish sense of ‘crook,’ finding this term in the family name of a police officer comes rather as a surprise. Around 1900, there was a Reverend Pagan in southern Scotland. His name was John H. [Hamilton] Pagan. On 0D\ 27 and 28 2010, a workshop was held in Rome, hosted by the Istituto Storico Germanico, about conversions in Rome in the early modern era. A welcome address was given by Bishop Sergio Pagano, from the Vatican. Vescovo (‘bishop’) Pagano (‘heathen’) is a paradoxical combination. Moreover, in the last third of the nineteenth century until shortly before the First World War, the Vatican forbade participation of the devout in the parliamentary elections of the unified Italian state. In that period, Paganuzzi (literally: ‘little heathens’) was the name of the leader of Italy’s clerical movHPHQW $ UHSRUW dated May 8, 2000, at the website of the English-language Israeli newspaper The Jerusalem Post5 and signed by Arieh O’Sullivan, was entitled “Mofaz: Don’t discount Syria’s armed might.” It was based on an interview with Israel’s Chief of General Staff, Lt.-Gen. Shaul Mofaz. He claimed that the Syrian Army has been upgrading its weaponry in preparation for a confrontation with Israel. The Syrian Army was “under their Chief of General Staff Gen. Ali Aslan, and he is anything but lazy. He’s very energetic, and he is doing a lot to increase the readiness and improve the quality of the Syrian army.” The reporter proceeded to state: “While Mofaz doesn’t believe the Syrians are interested in war, he said it is up to Syria to discourage Hizbullah from attacking Israel during and after its withdrawal from the security zone.” A reader who does not know Hebrew would miss the pun in Mofaz’s statement, as the surname Aslan sounds like the Hebrew word for ‘lazy.’ Therefore, this is an example of how it may be explicitly remarked that a feature suggested by a personal name is in stark contrast to features of the persons who bears that name. In early May 2008, “Shi‘ite opposition gunmen seized control of large areas of Beirut’s Muslim sector from Sunni foes loyal to the US-backed government” (from an Associated Press report, “11 Killed as Hizbullah, Amal Seize Beirut Neighborhoods,” published in The Jerusalem Press online edition of May 8, 2008). 5

Internet edition of the Jerusalem Post (http://www.jpost.com).

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Categories of Personal Names Considered to Be Apt or Paradoxical With top leaders Saad Hariri of the Sunnis and Druse leader Walid Jumblatt besieged in their residences in Muslim western Beirut, officials of the pro-government majority called an emergency meeting of legislators in a mountain town in the Christian heartland northeast of Beirut, said LBC TV, a pro-government Christian station. Prime Minister Fuad Saniora was holed up at his office along with several ministers in downtown Beirut, which is heavily protected by troops and police. A Hizbullah protest encampment that has been there for 17 months near his office has not made any move against the complex. “Even if Hizbullah’s militia took everything we remain the constitutional authority,” vowed Cabinet member Ahmed Fatfat, who said the prime minister and some ministers were staying at the government compound. “The legitimacy is with the government,” he told Al-Arabiya television from the building. [...] In a sign of the collapse of the pro-government forces in the face of the onslaught by the Iranian-backed Shi‘ite Hizbullah and Amal groups in the Lebanese capital’s Muslim sector, the TV station of Hariri’s Future Movement was forced off the air.

In spoken Arabic, fatfat is a verb that means ‘to reduce to crumbles.’ And yet, Fatfat, a cabinet minister, was vowing that the constitutional authority of the Lebanese government would not be let to fall in crumbles. The paradox may involve a conspicuous mismatch between the personal name and a situation, which may even be the situation of bearing another name. The mismatch may be between the first name and the family name. A woman, Gemma Robazza, appears among the winners of a competition, listed in La Settimana Enigmistica (issue 3422, October 25, 1997: 2). That weekly is Italy’s foremost crosswords and trivia magazine. Gemma Robazza won a lamp. Gemma literally means ‘gem,’ but Robazza sounds like a northern dialectal form of robaccia ‘poor stuff,’ ‘rubbish’ (as opposed to ‘merchandise of good quality’), and the contrast being to gems, it could be understood to refer to fancy goods that are not real jewels, or perhaps to theatrical jewels or counterfeited gems.

A Zulu paradoxical proper name of an animal Koopman (1992), in an article on Zulu ox- and dog-names, analyses various names that were actually bestowed upon individual animals because the name was befitting for either the owner’s situation (by way of a social comment), or the behaviour or appearance of the animal itself. Concerning the name of a particular dog, he explained (ibid.: 12):

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uPhumaphela: ‘get out now!,’ ‘get out, then!.’ The owner of this dog explained that when the dog was young, it used to roll in the dirt and dung, and when it came to the house, everybody would shout “Phuma phela!” Later on, when the dog had become more disciplined, it was allowed into the house, and indeed, the phrase “phuma phela” became the dog’s name. I found this rather confusing. If “phuma phela” had become the dog’s name, then surely it was used for calling the dog into the house. “Yes, that is so,” was the answer. Then what do they say now to get the dog out of the house, seeing that “get out now” brings the dog in? The answer to this question was simple, and perhaps predictable: “we say ‘Hheyi, voetsek wena!’”

That is to say, in order to chase away this particular dog, one would have to tell it that much in Afrikaans.

Aptness of personal names depending on their being a pair Sometimes, aptness results from the relation between personal names in a pair. For example, the two main artists of Topolino (the Italian Mickey Mouse magazine) during the 1960s (its golden age, in terms of quality) were Romano Scarpa (literally, ‘shoe’) and Giovan Battista Carpi (after the name of a town). Theirs were the pencils and ink, as opposed to the story and script (but it was usual for the only signature in the story as published to be Walt Disney’s). The winners of various competitions were listed in the Italian crosswords and trivia magazine La Settimana Enigmistica (issue 2225, November 16, 1974: 2). In particular, five competitors each won a baked staple (a Panettone Motta). These were (with the family name preceding the first name): “Di Gaetano Francesco; Tagliaferri Ettore; Bracci Renato; Ambiveri Enrica; Falsetti Auro.” What is curious about the last two family names is that Ambiveri can be interpreted as ‘both of them true,’ whereas Falsetti can be interpreted as ‘little false ones.’

A personal name as a self-fulfilling prophecy Bunni, a fish-name in Iraqi Arabic (for the barbel of the species Barbus sharpeyi) is the family name of an Iraqi ichthyologist (e.g., Banister and Bunni 1980). The bunnƯ fish is the most highly appreciated freshwater fish in Iraq, and also quantitatively it takes first place on the market. (Also in the Babylonian Talmud, the fish called in Aramaic bƯnƯta features prominently, relatively to other fishes.)

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Martin Woodcock is an ornithologist (e.g., Kemp and Woodcock 1995). Both martin and woodcock are bird names in English. Also consider Prof. Leo Pardi, an Italian zoologist, who was a member of the editorial board of the series Piccola Fauna Italiana, published by Martello in Milan. Is it too much to suggest that being given such a zoological name later on in life had a strong impact on his professional interests? At present, a university department bears his name: it is the Dipartimento di Biologia Animale e Genetica “Leo Pardi” at the University of Florence. Leppard sounds like Leopard. Tom Leppard, who late in the first decade of the twenty-first century was in his sixties, is a British man who had leopard spots tattooed all over his body. It stands to reason that he got the idea from his family name. The Wikipedia entry for ‘Tom Leppard’ states:6 Tom Leppard, more widely known as Leopard Man or the Leopard Man of Skye, was formerly considered by the Guinness Book of World Records to be the world’s most tattooed man. Leppard, now in his sixties, fled society years ago after spending £5,500 to have his body covered in leopard-like spots. He now lives in a small cabin on the Isle of Skye, Scotland. Once every week, the ex-soldier travels by canoe to buy supplies and pick up his pension. An interview with Leppard exploring both his past and his current lifestyle is in Henry Hemming’s In Search of the English Eccentric, published in June 2008. [...]

Aryeh Shore is an author whose name is written in Hebrew as ʸʥʹ ʤʩʸʠ—literally: ‘Lion, Bull,’ which is quite apt as in one Hebrewlanguage essay he discussed attempts to categorise unknown animal species by Talmudic exegetes from the modern era, who resorted to modern scientific or popularisation literature (Shore 1996-1997). In this case, we are concerned with a single publication in zoology by a scholar whose name is apt. What is more, Aryeh Shore is a veterinarian by profession. Ze’ev Hayam was a well known sea captain and shipping manager in the Israeli merchant navy. His name, Ze’ev Hayam (ʭʕ ˕ʤʔ ʡʒʠʍʦ) literally means ‘sea wolf,’ hence the lexicalised sense of the compound, ‘seawolf,’ ‘experienced mariner,’ which is a semantic calque from European languages. The first name Ze’ev is not infrequent among Ashkenazi Jews. The noun ze’év literally means ‘wolf,’ and some of them have actually been called Wolf in Yiddish. This animal is the symbol of the tribe of 6

http://em.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tom_Leppard (accessed July 2008).

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Benjamin, and therefore such people tend to also be called, in Hebrew, Binyamin ‘Benjamin.’ The status constructus form of the noun ze’év is also ze’év, but it means ‘wolf of,’ whereas hayyám means ‘the sea.’ Ze’ev Hayam had adopted his Hebrew last name so that his full name would be identical with the lexicalised compound for ‘seawolf,’ thus reflecting his professional interests. Born in 1903 in Odessa, his original family name was Itkowitz. He became a captain in 1924 and the director of a shipping company in 1933. He moved to Palestine in 1924 and lived in Haifa. While in Odessa, he had formal naval training and later on he had more professional training: in Paris in 1929 and in London in 1930 (Kalai 1936, col. 174, s.v. ʡʠʦ ,ʭʩʤ).

Name distortion Distorting a personal name was already a known derisive practice in antiquity. When, in late antiquity, the famous rabbinic academy of Sura in Mesopotamia got a new rector, scholars in nearby Nizunia refused to defer to his authority. The rector then sent to them a faculty member, the prominent Hamnuna. Sura, they claimed, was not on a par with them. Willing to test his own stature, they proposed a question to which he had the scruples not to reply (short of improvising). They jeered in gloat: “You are not Hamnuna, but Qarnuna!,” i.e., “Prof. Hotfish, my foot. Some Mr. Coldfish you are” (Babylonian Talmud, tractate Qiddushin, 25a). Elsewhere, I treat this anecdote as an example of misantonyms, i.e., false opposites. Nizunian gloat may have implied, as well, patterning of Qarnuna after the word for ‘horn,’ as though: “a stupid beast, horns and all.” The Jewish medieval commentator Rashi7 interpreted Qarnuna as ‘idle’ (cf. idiomatic “sitting by the corners”), but related it to qarnona (to him, denoting ‘market’), as though the nickname stood for: “one who has squandered time at the marketplace” and did not study enough. Cicero used Minos (the name of a mythical king of Crete) as a metaphor for a wise man; in particular, he used it for Calvisius Sabinus, a senator. This he did in order to subserve the following pun: Cicero nicknamed the duo of senators, Calvisius Sabinus and Statilius Taurus, Minotaurus, but this compound happens to be the name of the man-eating mythical monster, half man and half bull, allegedly living in the Labyrinth 7

Rashi was of Troyes, in Champagne, thus one who may have presumably perceived in Old French cornu to be germane to the Aramaic, but chose not to give expression to it; Cf. his interpreting Old French calva souris, cf. French chauve souris ‘bat,’ as being related to Hebrew šr‫‘ ܈‬swarming animal’ based on how he transliterated the term.

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in Crete in the times of Minos. (The Minotaurus was so named by a compound of the name of Minos, whose wife had given birth to the beast, and of a Greek—or similar Latin—term for ‘bull.’) In his Institutio oratoria, Quintilian reprehended such alteration of names for rhetorical purposes as calling a sharp-tempered Placidus “Acidus.” Matthews discussed some puns on ancient Roman cognomina. Concerning his youth as an upper-class Jew, Josephus Flavius relates, in his Life, 10-12, given here in Mason’s (2001) translation (ibid.: 15-21, Mason’s brackets): When I was about sixteen years old, I chose to gain expertise in the philosophical schools among us. [...] When I discovered that a certain man by the name of Bannus made his life in the desert, I became his devotee: wearing clothes [made] from trees, scavenging food that grew by itself, and washing frequently for purification—with frigid water, day and night! When I had lived with him three years and so satisfied my longing, I returned to the city.

Mason remarks (2001: 18, fn. 78) that some manuscripts “have a single Ȟ” in the name of Bannus and moreover (my brackets): Possibly, this teacher’s name should evoke a word-play with the Latin balneum (“bath”) among the Roman audience. Others (Eisler 1929: 1.xxxvi n. 3, 120 n. 1; Adam 1972: 37) have argued that this form transliterates the man’s Aramaic nick-name, itself a corruption of the Greek ȕĮȜĮȞİȪȢ: “bath-man.” See the different assessments of Feldman (1984: 82) and Cohen (1979: 106 n. 25). Cohen sensibly prefers to understand the name as a version of the better-attested ǺĮȞȞĮȚ ɹȠȢ. But the punning effect may work irrespective of the actual meaning of the man’s name.

In his Life 48-61, Josephus Flavius relates about the wicked Varus (‘twisted’), who was succeeded by the fair Aequus Modius (‘fair measure’), but in War 2.482-483, Josephus gave his true name, Noarus. In Life 48-61, Josephus tells the story of how Varus, a Syrian of royal ancestry, a subordinate of the Jewish king Agrippa II, schemed in the absence of the latter and, having invited to Caesarea an unsuspecting delegation of Jews from Batanea (the Bashan, east of the Golan), has several Jews killed, both the members of that delegation and local ones from Caesarea. It was in War 2.482-483 that Josephus gave that man’s name as Noarus. Steve Mason proposes (ibid.: 52, fn. 291, my brackets): In the War (2.482–83) he was called Noarus—a slight difference in Greek, but perhaps indicating his native name—and briefly mentioned as a brutal

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administrator in the absence of Agrippa II, [...]. As to the name, it may well be that Josephus changes it to “Varus” in order to get some mileage from the literal meaning—“knock-kneed,” but more generally “warped, bent, twisted”—in contrast to Aequus Modius (“fair measure,” cf. §61 [“Now when the king discovered that in a single day Varus was about to dispose of the Judeans living in Caesarea, who were many tens of thousands including their wives and children, he summoned him, having sent Aequus Modius as his successor”]. Varus is a widely attested cognomen (cf. Kajanto 1965:242). As Corbeill (1996: 95-6) points out, such alteration of names for rhetorical purposes (e.g., calling a sharp-tempered Placidus “Acidus”) was considered somewhat lame by Quintilian (Inst. 6.3.53).

Of Aequus Modius, Mason claims (ibid.: 56, fn. 326, my brackets): Nothing is known of this man outside of the Life, [...]. In §§180-81 he will be called “Modius Aequus” and simply Modius, indicating that Modius is the nomen and Aequus the cognomen. [...] Yet here and at §114 the order is reversed. If we ask why Josephus should reverse the names at this first occurrence, the reason may lie in their literal meaning: “fair [aequus] measure [modius],” which suits the character’s role as a trustworthy “white knight,” finally bringing justice to repair the damage done by Varus (literally: “twisted, knock-kneed, warped, bent”). On the use of names to score rhetorical points, see Cicero, Att. [= Epistulae ad Atticum] 2.1. (where Cicero’s nemesis P. Clodius Pulcher is called Pulchelli, “that little beauty”) and Corbeill (1996: 57-98).

The modification of P. Clodius Pulcher is a regular diminutive derivation from pulcher as being an adjective in the Latin lexicon.

Concluding remarks Punning has received sustained attention within humour studies (Brown 1956; Redfern 1984, 2000; Dynel 2010 [cf. 2009]; Culler 1988; Hammond and Hughes 1978; Delabastita 1997; Hausmann 1974; Zwicky and Zwicky 1986; Sherzer 1978; Matthews 1973; Smith 1979), even in a computational linguistic perspective—Waller et al. (2009, cf. Ritchie 2004). In this chapter, we are concerned with a particular class of anthroponomastic puns. We began with a smattering of examples of personal names that turn out to be “apt,” considering the circumstances of their bearers. We then sketched how to consider this phenomenon (as well as the phenomenon of paradoxical names) in respect of irony. We turned to an example from 1990s British politics, before considering examples of

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personal names in relation to place. We saw that not only the detection of a personal name’s “aptness” may be across languages, but that the detection may be contrived instead of immediate; a trajectory leads from the “relevant” circumstances of the bearer to the bearer’s “apt” name. Some other times, the aptness of personal names depends on their being a pair. Sec. 12 is about personal names as a self-fulfilling prophecy (such as with Leo Pardi who became a zoologist). Name distortion so that the distorted name would “fit” its bearer is a cultural practice known since antiquity.

References Adam, A. 1972. Antike Berichte über die Essener, 2nd edition. Berlin: W. de Gruyter. Altes, L.K. 2005. Irony. In Routledge Encyclopaedia of Narrative Theory D. Herman, M. Jahn and M.-L. Ryan (eds.), 261-263. London: Routledge. Banister, K.E., and M.K. Bunni. 1980. A New Blind Cyprinid Fish from Iraq. Bulletin of the British Museum (Natural History) Zoology 38(3): 151-158. Brown, J. 1956. Eight Types of Puns. Publications of the Modern Language Association of America 71: 14-28. Clark, W.B. 2006. A Medieval Book of Beasts. The Second-Family Bestiary: Commentary, Art, Text and Translation. Woodbridge, Suffolk, England & Rochester, NY: Boydell Press. Cohen, S.J.D. 1979. Josephus in Galilee and Rome: His Vita and Development as a Historian. Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill. Corbeill, A. 1996. Controlling Laughter: Political Humor in the Late Roman Republic. Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press. Culler, J. (ed.). 1988. On Puns: The Foundation of Letters. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Delabastita, D. (ed.). 1997. Traductio: Essays on Punning and Translation. Manchester, UK: St. Jerome Publishing & Namur, Belgium: Presses Universitaires de Namur. Dynel, M. 2009. Humorous Garden-Paths: A Pragmatic-Cognitive Study. Newcastle, UK: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. —. 2010. How Do Puns Bear Relevance? In Relevance Studies in Poland, Vol. 3, Exploring Translation and Communication Problems, M. Kisielewska Krysiuk, A. Piskorska and E. Waáaszewska (eds.), 105124. Warsaw, Poland: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Warszawskiego.

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Eisler, R. 1929-1930. IƝsous Basileus ou Basileusas: die messianische Unabhängigkeitsbewegung vom Auftreten Johannes des Täufers bis zum Untergang Jakobs des Gerechten, nach der neurschlossenen Eroberung von Jerusalem des Flavius Josephus und den christlichen Quellen. Religionswissenschaftliche Bibliothek, (9) Heidelberg, Germany: Carl Winters Universitätsbuchhandlung, vol. 1: 1929, vol. 2: 1930. Epstein, I. (ed.). 1935-1952. The Babylonian Talmud, translated into English with Notes, Glossary and Indices, 35-volume edition. London: The Soncino Press. Feldman, L.H. 1984. Josephus and Modern Scholarship, 1937-1980. Berlin: W. de Gruyter. Garsiel, M. 1991. Biblical Names: A Literary Study of Midrashic Derivations and Puns (enlarged, revised English edition; trans. P. Hackett). Bar-Ilan University, Ramat-Gan, Israel. Goitein S.D., and M.A. Friedman 2008. India Traders of the Middle Ages: Documents from the Cairo Geniza (“India Book”). (Études sur le Judaïsme Médiéval, 31.) Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill. Haas, A.G. 1964. Data on Austrian Officials Appearing in This Work. Appendix B (182-192) in his Metternich, Reorganization and Nationality, 1813-1818. American edition, Knoxville: The University of Tennessee Press, 1964. Previously, Wiesbaden, West Germany: Franz Steiner Verlag, 1963. Hammond, P., and P. Hughes. 1978. Upon the Pun: Dual Meanings in Words and Pictures. London: W.H. Allen. Hausmann, F. 1974. Studien zu einer Linguistik des Wortspiels: Das Wortspiel im Cana rd En cha ïn é. Tübingen, Germany: Max Niemeyer Verlag. Jastrow, M. 1886-1903. Dictionary of the Targumim, the Talmud Babli and Yerushalmi, and the Midrashic Literature, 2 vols. New York & London, printed Leipzig: Trübner & Co., and London: Luzac. Kajanto, I. 1965. The Latin Cognomina. (Commentationes humanarum litterarum, vol. 36, no. 2.). Helsinki: Societas Scientiarum Fennica (Suomen Tiedeseura). [Kalai, D.] 1936 (5697 ʦʿʶʸʺ). ʩʬʠʸʹʩʶʸʠ ʯʥʷʩʱʫʬ ʟʭʩʹʩʠʤ ʸʴʱ (Hebrew: Séfer ha-Ishím: Leksiqón Eretzyisre’elí; a work of biographical reference of the Jewish community in Palestine). Tel-Aviv: Massada Publ. Kemp, A.C., and M. Woodcock. 1995. The Hornbills: Bucerotiformes. (Bird Families of the World, 1.) Oxford: OUP.

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Kingsley, S. 2000. Travel: Sylvia Kingsley visits the verdant island of Mallorca, a Mediterranean jewel that shed its tawdry image to become truly visitor friendly. London Jewish News 1 September: 36-37. Koopman, A. 1992. The socio-cultural aspects of Zulu ox- and dog-names. Nomina Africana: Journal of the Names Society of Southern Africa 6 (1): 2-13. Levin, H. 1980. Take Care. [A short letter]. Woman’s Own (London), July 26: 8, col. 3. Marcano, M. 1889. Caricature précolombienne des Cerritos. Bulletins de la Société d’anthropologie de Paris 12 (1): 155-157. Mason, S. (trans., comm.). 2001. Life of Josephus, vol. 9 in Flavius Josephus Translation and Commentary. Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill. Matthews, V.J. 1973. Some Puns on Roman ‘Cognomina.’ Greece & Rome 20(1): 20-24. Nissan, E. (Forthcoming). On the Report of Isaac de Lattes Concerning the Death of the Apostate in Taormina. Accepted for the proceedings of a conference in Siracusa for the 20th anniversary of the discovery of the local medieval mikvah (ed. Luciana Pepi and Alessandro Musco), to be published by Officina di Studi Medievali in Palermo. Forthcoming in Schede Medievali. —. (n.d.). Kidor: A Talmudic Onomastic Pun, and Hypotheses Concerning the Etymology. Manuscript submitted for publication. Radday, Y., and A. Brenner (eds.). 1990. On Humour and the Comic in the Hebrew Bible, Sheffield, UK: Sheffield Academic Press, & New York: The Almond Press. Redfern, W.D. 2000 (1984). Puns. Oxford: Basil Blackwell (revised as Puns: More Senses Than One. London: Penguin, 2000). Rendsburg, G.A. 1988. Bilingual Wordplay in the Bible. Vetus Testamentum 38: 354-357. Rippin, A. 1994. Poetics of Quranic Punning. Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London 57: 193-207. Ritchie, G. 2004. The Linguistic Analysis of Jokes. London: Routledge. Rosenthal, F. 1956. Humor in Early Islam. Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press. Shamy, H.M. El- 2006. A Motif Index of The Thousand and One Nights. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Sherzer, J. 1978. Oh! That’s a Pun and I Didn’t Mean It. Semiotica 22: 335-350.

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Shore, A. (ʸʥʹ ʤʩʸʠ). 1996-1997. Strange Animals and Their Place in the Literature of the Interpreters of the Mishnah and of the Talmud in the Modern Era. (In Hebrew.) ۗorót 12: 7-15. Smith, R.M. 1979. Unhumorous Puns in Ancient India. Journal of IndoEuropean Studies 7 (1/2): 105-112. Sperber, D., and D. Wilson. 1981. Irony and the Use–Mention Distinction. In Radical Pragmatics, P. Cole (ed.), 295-318. New York: Academic Press. Stephen, J. 1885. The Story of Nuncomar and the Impeachment of Sir Elijah Impey (2 vols.). London: Macmillan. Thirlwall, C. 1833. On the Irony of Sophocles. The Philological Museum 2: 483-537. Thompson, S. 1955-1958. Motif Index of Folk-Literature (6 vols.). Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1955–1958; CD-ROM edition, 1993. Treasure, G. 1992. Who’s Who in Early Hanoverian Britain. (Who’s Who in British History, 6). London: Shepeard-Walwyn. Waller, A., R. Black, D.A. O’Mara, H. Pain, G. Ritchie and R. Manurung. 2009. Evaluating the STANDUP Pun Generating Software with Children with Cerebral Palsy. ACM Transactions on Accessible Computing (TACCESS) 1(3) (February 2009), article no. 16, at the website of the Association for Computing Machinery. Wilson, D., and D. Sperber. 1992. On Verbal Irony. Lingua 87: 53-76. Zwicky, A., and E. Zwicky. 1986. Imperfect Puns, Markedness and Phonological Similarity. With Fronds Like These, Who Needs Anemones. Folia Linguistica 20: 493-503.

ON THE SEMANTICS OF PROPER NAMES ùTEFAN OLTEAN Introduction Out of various semantic accounts of proper names—descriptional, nondescriptional, intentional (see D’Angelo and Napoli 2000; Davis 2007; Frege 1960; Kripke 1982 and 2011; Portner 2005; Searle 1983)—, the nondescriptional ones are of greater relevance for this chapter.1 According to them, proper names are unstructured linguistic expressions, with no inherent meaning or sense, without descriptive content, whose sole function is to denote an individual directly. Thus their semantic value lies in their denotation—the unique individual they identify. In contrast, common names display both sense and reference, are structured and denote by specifying descriptive properties associated with the objects, i.e., they refer and simultaneously predicate by assigning the referent the attribute of membership in a class (Oltean 2009);2 this is to say that the notion of intrinsic meaning is not alien to their semantic content.3

1

This chapter contains material from my article On the semantics of proper names and common names, Studia Universitatis Babeú-Bolyai, Philologia, LIV (4), 2009. 2 To describe something as “dog” means identifying it as an individual entity that belongs to a class/set of entities called dogs and thus distinguish it from other entities; in other words, while the semantic value of common names is identified with their extension, they also describe the entities as entities of a certain kind. 3 The distinction between sense “Sinn” and reference “Bedeutung,” which is relevant for our account, goes back to Frege (1960), who assessed that linguistic expressions have two major sides of meaning—internal and external, representational and referential. His distinction has been reformulated within possible world semantics (see Carnap 1956) into that between intension and extension; the former corresponds to sense, being a function that assigns the extension at each possible world; the latter corresponds to reference, being determined starting from individuals (referential noun phrases), sets (predicates) and truth values (broadly, in the case of sentences).

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Descriptional accounts of proper names According to Kripke (1982 2011), proper names are nondescriptional, hollow items; they are like labels attached to individuals and their meaning lies exclusively in their denotation. In his view, a name, Walter Scott for instance, would function as a symbol that cannot be analyzed into constituent parts, which would designate the unique individual “Walter Scott;” in other words, it would not have an “inherent,” descriptive meaning, or sense. But given that the same individual can also be identified by the definite description “the author of Waverley,” whose meaning is compositional, i.e., it is a function of the distinct meaning of the parts, some scholars (e.g., Frege, Russell—see Moeschler 1999: 151- 152; and Kripke 1982, 2011) have proposed that proper names are descriptional, i.e., that they have a distinct sense, the exceptions being represented by situations in which the user of a proper name is in direct sensory contact with the individual denoted, in which case the name refers in a direct, unmediated way. An advocate of the descriptional view of proper names is Frege (1960). According to him, proper names are like definite descriptions, they have both sense and reference (see also Moeschler 1999; Davis 2007). If this were not the case, if the meaning of a name were identified with the referent only, we could assert that (1), an identity statement, would be synonymous with (2) (Davis 2007: 105):

(1) Shakespeare was Bacon. (2) Shakespeare was Shakespeare. Now, this would be clearly wrong, even if (1) were true, given that we associate different descriptions or ideas with Shakespeare and Bacon. In other words, true identity statements involving names would become as trivial as “N is N” in a purely referential account (see Davis 2007: 105). We indeed come across descriptions that have the semantic content of names, as is the case with the so-called rigidified descriptions (Soames 2002: 43),4 which would give support to Frege’s descriptional account. A case in point would be “Gödel, the discoverer of the incompleteness of arithmetic,” discussed by Kripke (1982): if the only thing that many 4

“Rigidified descriptions” are “rigidified versions” of the descriptions associated with proper names (Soames: 2002: 39). Soames indicates that while some scholars consider rigidified descriptions to be synonymous with the corresponding names, this analysis is wrong because these expressions do not have the actual semantic value of names.

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people know about him is that he is the discoverer of the incompleteness of arithmetic, it would not follow that whoever satisfies this description is Gödel. As Soames (2002: 43) indicates, descriptions of this kind are not as reliable as proper names in picking out some individual. An account of proper names as abbreviated definite descriptions is given by Russell. Discussing his view, Kripke (2011: 47) shows that if we take sentence (3), quoted from Russell, we can assert that it expresses a necessary truth, since if Hesperus and Phosphorus are proper names, and Hesperus is Phosphorus (both have the value “Venus”), it is necessary that Hesperus is Phosphorus (ibid.): (3) “Hesperus is Phosphorus.” / “The morning star is the evening star.” (One and the same planet was thought to be another star: “evening star,” “morning star.”) According to Russell, however (see Kripke 2011: 47), this “might have come out otherwise,” and (3) could be an ordinary contingent, empirical truth. Moreover, the names Hesperus and Phosphorus would not be genuine proper names or labels for an object, as Kripke holds (ibid.), but “abbreviations for descriptions” (ibid.): even though Hesperus and Phosphorus are coreferential, one could assert something like Hesperus is the Evening Star, without asserting or believing the proposition expressed by Phosphorus is the Morning Star (Soames 2002: 26), because (s)he would associate them with different descriptions. Now, (3) would mean “the star in a certain position of the sky in the evening is the star in a certain position of the sky in the morning” [ibid.: 48]), without it being a necessary identity statement. In this vein of thought, Russell asserts that the truly proper names are names of things that we know by direct acquaintance, i.e., “this” or “that,” the only “names” that function in the demonstrative mode, since the other “names” name an object while also describing it (see ibid.). Kripke (2011: 47) goes on to assert that in this view the idea “that true identity statements between names are necessarily true, has to be false.” He rejects this view, however, on the grounds that in cases like (3) the identity statements are necessary and not contingent, if they are true: if Hesperus and Phosphorus are the same, they can be different in no other possible world, unlike descriptions (they do not resist the modal argument—see below).

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Likewise, Searle (1983), in his intentionalist account—in which the notion of intentional content (i.e., directedness toward the world) of mental states is basic and mental reference is thus possible—emphasizes that a name refers to an object because it expresses an individual concept that represents that object, e.g., Aristotle, and is thus connected to its referent in virtue of this intentional content. Now, the intentional content of such a mental state is an intrinsic property, and the way it applies to “Aristotle” remains unclear, as Davis (2007: 113) remarks: “[w]e can no more explain why the concept of Aristotle represents Aristotle than we can explain why the concept of red represents red.” Despite the fact that names share features with descriptions in virtue of the concept that they express, their nature is nevertheless seen to be different from identifying descriptions like, e.g., “the author of De Anima” or “The man called Aristotle,” as Davis indicates (ibid.: 107), since names, like demonstratives and unlike descriptions, “do not in general specify any characteristics […] of the objects to which they refer” (Searle 1958: 170, quoted in Davis 2007: 107), but rather identify those objects without, in principle, describing them. So, even though names may have descriptive content, in this view they do not describe things—a somewhat perplexing conclusion. Further on, Searle echoes the variable description theory of proper names, according to which a name does not express a particular intentional content, but different descriptive contents on different occasions, all of which refer to the same object. In other words, they would not have a sense,5 but would be like indexicals, being “associated with different contents in different contexts” (Davis 2007: 118), but unlike indexicals, which are functions from contexts to intensions,6 they would be functions from contexts to “descriptive intentional contents” (ibid.) and from the latter to extensions. In this respect, (4) Aristotle was a philosopher. (Davis 2007: 118) could be used to express the proposition (5) The author of De Anima was a philosopher (ibid.), or the proposition 5

“None of the Intentional contents associated with a name are what it means” (Davis 2007: 118). 6 See Kaplan’s (1989) notion of “expression character”—a function mapping contexts to intensions.

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(6) The husband of Pythias was a philosopher. (ibid.) This view of Searle’s comes closer to nondescriptional views.

Nondescriptional accounts of proper names Nondescriptional accounts of proper names, or direct reference theories, go back to John Stuart Mill and thus form part of the Millian tradition. The representatives of this view (e.g., Kripke 1982; Soames 2002; Salmon 2005) argue that proper names have no descriptive content, that they are purely referential, unstructured linguistic expressions, with no inherent meaning or sense, and that their sole contribution to the proposition expressed by a sentence is the individual that they pick out. Arguments used by the scholars working in this tradition are semantic, epistemic and modal as to their nature (see below), and central ingredients are the notions of transworld identity and the derived notion of rigid designation from possible world semantics, which are to do with the issue of individuals at one world being identical with themselves at every other world.

Transworld identity Kaplan (1979) sums up three major attitudes taken to transworld identity: (a) The skeptical attitude, according to which transworld identification cannot be done—“everyone to his own world.” It is of course reasonable to try to locate “an individual-under-a-description” in another world, e.g., Walter Scott under-the-description “author-of-Waverley” (our example), but this may not yield the expected result in a world in which Walter Scott is not the author of Waverley, but someone else is, as is the case in a scenario according to which Walter Scott secretly hires a person to write the book for him and then deceitfully passes it as his own making. The skeptic concludes that there is no favored way or “transworld heir line” of making the identification.7 7

The skeptical stand is also illustrated by Lewis (1979a), according to whom transworld identity of individuals does not exist, since the individuals are worldbound and can only have their counterparts at other worlds. The identity relation is therefore replaced by the counterpart relation: we exist only in this world, nowhere else; still, things might have been otherwise, and so we have our counterparts at other worlds; these counterparts are not us, but they merely resemble us, being closer to us than anything else at that world. Lewis’ counterpart

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(b) The metaphysical attitude, which is the typical one among logicians. It is illustrated, for instance, by Kripke (1982) and Rescher (1979), according to whom transworld identity exists and thus one and the same individual can inhabit different possible worlds. In this view, the solution to transworld identification is identification by bare particulars, which are individuated by their intrinsic characteristics: e.g., the transworld identification of Walter Scott (to use our previous example), as author of Waverley in one world and as a deceitful individual only pretending to be so, in another, is made by isolating Walter Scott as a common bare particular of the two (which turn out to be merely contingent properties)—the “substance-before-accident” view (Kaplan 1979).8 It can be an identity of “origin” (Kienzle 2006), as is the case in (7): (7) The old Wittgenstein is the young Wittgenstein. (“Wittgenstein” contains an essence, a transworld heir line that runs through the different Wittgenstein phases and unifies them, securing the old Wittgenstein’s identity with the young one.) (c) The relativistic attitude, which is associated with the bundle-offeatures metaphysics and derives from Kaplan’s notion of transworld heir line, involved in locating individuals in other worlds. In this view, we identify individuals in terms of their prominent features, defined relative to various interests or beliefs. Identity is thus relative, not absolute.9

Rigid vs non-rigid designators Even though transworld identity is a logical issue, it is interestingly intertwined with the semantics of linguistic expressions. Among other theory seems to solve the problems associated with transworld identiy, but at the cost of violating our intuitions of what we mean by possible. For when we say, e.g., that Walter Scott might not be the author of Waverley, we are talking about Walter Scott, not some other individual, some counterpart of Scott, in some PW. 8 In this case an individual would not be numerically identical with itself. Moreover, in saying that Walter Scott is not the author of Waverley, we are talking about the same person, Walter Scott not-being-the-author of Waverley. In this case an individual is not qualitatively identical with itself either, for if x is qualitatively identical with y, then every property of x is also a property of y, and vice versa. 9 Among other things, Kaplan’s notion of relative identity allows us to treat individuals that are the same in a world to be distinct in another. In this respect, one could treat, e.g., the names Mark Twain and Samuel Langhorne Clemens, which denote the same individual, as standing for different individuals, given his/her belief system (someone unfamiliar with the writer’s biography).

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things, it proves illuminating in an account of referential terms in natural language, which fall into two main categories, depending on whether they denote the same individual(s) in every possible world different individuals in different worlds. The one who addressed this issue is Kripke (1982 2011), who classified the referential terms into rigid and, respectively, non-rigid designators, the former designating an object rigidly with respect to every possible world in which that object exists and denoting nothing else with respect to worlds in which the object does not exist (see also Salmon 2005). Proper names of individuals are the most typical case of rigid designators;10 they are singular terms, they are “rigid with respect to tense and modality” (Cocchiarella 2005: 158), they denote a single individual with respect to a given possible world “a class as many of one object […] identical with that object” (ibid.: 178), where “there is no empty class as many” (ibid.). In other words, they introduce a constant—a, b, c, the entity associated with the name—at the level of logical form (LF). Of course, we can wonder, what is their contribution to meaning, as long as they have no descriptive content? Is it the individual they denote or is it some kind of concept? We believe it is the individual, even though this is still an open question, since LF is a level of interpretive representation, with constants having a conceptual nature (see also Cocchiarella 2005, for referential concepts; and Carnap 1956 for his notion of “individual concept”). Kripke includes into the class of rigid designators certain common names as well, such as tiger, water, heat, blue; they are general terms, since they are applicable to any quantity or number of individuals. The latter are proper names of a special kind, namely “proper names of universals” (D’Angelo and Napoli 2000: 203)—the universal meant by the common noun—, since they introduce a “higher order constant” at LF (ibid.). Descriptions, be they definite or indefinite, like “the author of Waverley” (“the NP”) or “a dog” in “a dog is chasing a cat”, are non-rigid designators, since they pick out other entities in different worlds. They can contain words of different categories, their meaning is compositional, being a function of the meaning of the parts, and the entities they identify are not conventionally associated with them. They introduce a variable at LF and “the universal or existential quantifier” binding it (Russell, quoted in D’Angelo and Napoli 2000: 207), which can stand, e.g., for Walter Scott in worlds in which he writes Waverley, for another individual in 10

Of course, several individuals can bear identical names. This, however, does not challenge the claim of uniqueness associated with proper names. According to D’Angelo and Napoli (2000), in this case we have to do with “many different, though homophonous names, rather than with one shared name.”

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worlds in which someone else writes the book for him, an arbitrary, nonspecific dog (“quantificational description”) a specific dog (“nonquantificational, referential, description”) (ibid.: 203).

Proper names as directly referring expressions In his work dedicated to names and naming, Kripke (1982) questions the relevance of descriptions or properties for an account of proper names and shows that the meaning of the latter lies exclusively in their denotation. He expresses his view in his causal theory of reference, in which he strongly argues that these names are nothing more than mere labels attached to individuals within a ceremony of baptism, a link being thereby established between the name and its bearer. The link thus established becomes a necessary one which is retained and propagates within the community of speakers. It is not a consequence of the features of the individual and is not affected by the individual’s life history; thus, Walter Scott, who can be described as “the author of Waverley,” would denote “Walter Scott” even if the latter had not written Waverley. Theoretically speaking, we could imagine a genuine causal chain of links from name user to name user that extends from Scott’s baptismal ceremony down to us today, our use of the name being grounded on the original act of naming. Now, with regard to what determines the identity of an individual, or what makes Walter Scott be “Walter Scott,” the society relies on experts, e.g., his parents or authorities. Of course, one can wonder what kind of knowledge a speaker deploys when (s)he uses a name like Walter Scott. As Chierchia and McConnell-Ginet (2000: 107) argue in an interpretation of Kripke’s theory, speakers do cognitively represent concepts associated with proper names (e.g., Walter Scott, Aristotle, Cicero) and use them in processing these words. The two scholars express, nevertheless, doubts as to what semantic role these concepts have or if they have any such role, since, according to Kripke’s causal theory, cognitive representations do not enter the formulation of truth conditions: “What is crucial for truth is the referential link itself, and that is a matter of the causal history of the world (…) rather than the conceptual structure” (ibid.). Names are thus linked to their extensions without the mediation of some descriptive content, and their meaning displays “an inescapable demonstrative component” (Chierchia and McConnell-Ginet 2000: 107);11 they are directly referring linguistic expressions. 11

Names can nevertheless change their reference, as Portner (2005) has shown. He cites an example from Gareth Evans: Madagascar originally was applied to part of the African mainland, but Marco Polo mistakenly used it for the island and

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The major arguments put forward by Kripke—that proper names contribute to the entity they refer to and have no descriptive content—are semantic, epistemic and modal (Soames 2002: 19). The first ones concern the fact that the reference of a proper name is, in principle, independent of any description. A case in point are classical names, such as Aristotle or Cicero, about whom some people may know very few things if anything (e.g., that the former refers to an ancient Greek philosopher, but know nothing else about him), but they are able to use the names successfully to denote some specific individual. Kripke’s contention is that the causal chain, which secures the gradual propagation of the link between the name and the individual from the time of the baptism down to us, is responsible for this. (In such cases, upon hearing the name, the speaker will use it in accordance with his “sources” [Soames ibid.].) The epistemic arguments are to do with the fact that the substitution of a proper name in a sentence by a description coupled with it yields a sentence compatible with a different knowledge or belief set as compared to the former. Thus, Christopher Columbus is commonly identified as the first European who discovered America. It is, however, much likely that the Vikings had discovered it long before. Now, those who associate the description “discoverer of America” with Columbus do not use the name “Columbus” to refer to some individual from northern Europe, but to the historical figure Columbus. They entertain false beliefs about him, but such beliefs do not change the denotation of the name. It follows that (8) is not an a priori, necessary truth and that sentences containing “Columbus” are different semantically from sentences containing “the first European who discovered America” (see ibid.): gradually its meaning became that of an island. Thus the causal chain does not go back to an original act of naming, e.g., by a speaker who named the island, but reflects (mistaken) speaker meaning. It is thus grounded on the beliefs that the members of the community have in connection with the name: Madagascar refers to “Madagascar” because our beliefs about the name originate from the island and not from African mainland. Things would be similar with Walter Scott: this name denotes “Walter Scott” because our beliefs about him originate in the texts he authored, and even if he hadn’t written Waverley, we would still believe that he did, since our beliefs are associated with his actions of publishing the novel as his own. While we have reason to believe that this view is correct, we consider that Kripke’s causal theory is nevertheless preferable, given that it is possible to imagine a scenario, suggested by Portner (2005), in which authorities decide to switch to Madagascar’s original name because the present name is the result of a historical mistake. This highlights the importance of the original use of the name and the relevance of Kripke’s causal theory. In both cases, however, names emerge as rigid designators.

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(8) Christopher Columbus is the first European who discovered America. The modal arguments, in exchange, are centred on the fact that sentences containing proper names and the corresponding sentences containing descriptions have different truth conditions and take different truth values at different worlds (see ibid.). We will try to illustrate this point by examples based on models suggested by Soames (ibid.) and Portner (2005): (9) Walter Scott is the author of Waverley. (10) Walter Scott is Walter Scott. (11) The author of Waverley is the author of Waverley. These sentences should be semantically equivalent, as long as the proper name Walter Scott is replaced by the purportedly synonymous definite description “the author of Waverley,” and vice versa. However, this is not the case, since (9) does not mean exactly the same thing as (10) and (11): the first is a contingently true and informative sentence, i.e., it is true at w@ (the actual world) if and only if the individual bearer of the name Walter Scott authored Waverley in w@;12 the second (10) and the third (11) are necessarily true and uninformative identity statements,13 i.e., they are true everywhere. Let us now take (12) and (13), the latter being modelled on an example due to Russell, quoted in Kripke (2011: 45): (12) Walter Scott is not the author of Waverley. (13) The author of Waverley might not have written Waverley. Walter Scott wrote Waverley, according to what we know, but (12) expresses the fact that there are worlds in which he did not author this work, but someone else did, e.g., a person he hired to write the book for him; the sentence is informative, but false at w@; however, it can be true at other worlds, i.e., if appropriate scenarios are provided. Now, (13), which might seem a contradictory statement, expresses the fact that there 12

A sentence Į is F is true at some world if and only if the value of Į at w is the extension of F at w. So, for any world w, Walter Scott denotes in w the individual who was Walter Scott in w@) (see Soames 2002: 24). 13 We do not address here the issue of the non-literal, speaker or pragmatic meaning expressed by (4) and (5), explainable within a framework of Gricean pragmatics. Ours is a semantic account, being concerned with the literal meaning.

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are worlds in which the author of Waverley has the property that he does not write Waverley. These indicate that the name Walter Scott and the description “the author of Waverley” do not have identical sense and reference, as they should if they were equivalent: the first designates “Walter Scott” at all worlds, while the second designates whoever the author of the novel is, its denotation being determined by whatever individual has the respective property at different worlds. It follows that the definite description is not such that it identifies the individual Walter Scott. They are not synonymous either, since if “the author of Waverley” were synonymous with “Walter Scott” and (12) is true, it would follow that (14) is also true: (14) The author of Waverley is not the author of Waverley. Now, (14) is necessarily false. Consequently, the meaning of Walter Scott does not lie in some essential property or feature semantically associated with the name. The denotation of the former is not mediated by some descriptive content or feature ascription, while such content is relevant for identifying the referent of the latter. In other words, proper names only denote, and do so rigidly, designating the same individual in all possible worlds, while descriptions are nonrigid, designating different individuals in different worlds. It follows that proper names and descriptions are semantically different that, as Soames (2002: 53) asserts, There is little or no specific descriptive information that a speaker must associate with a name in order to understand it, or to be a competent user of it; hence there is little or no descriptive information that is part of the semantic content of such a name.14

Syntax for proper names The conclusion expressed above is correct for proper names like Walter Scott, Aristotle or Columbus, but some names appear to defy this rule, in that they may have descriptive content. The class includes appellatives like 14

This does not exclude the possibility that the reference of the name Walter Scott be fixed by the descriptive phrase “the author of Waverley,” or that the latter can be used as a criterion of identification of an individual as the referent of the name Walter Scott, the more so because the referent is not given to us through perception.

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Rabbit used for an individual, as in (15), or expressions like John Brown or Shakespeare in (16) and (17). They are not everyday, paradigm occurrences of proper names. (15) Rabbit is scared. (cf. Tănase Dogaru 2007) (16) “the John Brown who lives next door” / “the John Brown in Ithaca” (17) “a Shakespeare of our time” Now, for Rabbit in (15) it can be argued that it functions as a referential symbol (a DP, “determiner phrase”), like a proper name, but one can still wonder whether it also displays descriptive content. While in the framework of some animal story someone might understand the name, i.e., identify the referent by having the associated descriptive content in mind, it is arguable that this would be the case in ordinary circumstances. Most likely the reference would not be determined descriptively, even if descriptive properties might have played a role when the link between the name and the unique individual object was created; in the transmission chain, however, this content might have become much diluted or might have totally disappeared. Therefore it is an open question whether here we have a “partially descriptive name” of the kind mentioned by Soames (2002: 51),15 since its understanding does not necessarily involve descriptive content. The other cases are different. As a first approximation it can be asserted that the proper names they contain are, unlike the canonical Walter Scott, ambiguous, as indicated by the disambiguating contexts with which they are coupled: “…who lives next door” (relative clause), “…in Ithaca” (PP “prepositional phrase”), and “…of our time” (PP). Now, according to Longobardi (1994), proper names are DP’s (“determiner phrases”) headed by a null definite determiner, since they denote unique individuals. Therefore, an analysis of the syntax (spell-out) of the names in (16) and (17) might shed light on the difference between these expressions and genuine proper names. In this respect, in their canonical use proper names occupy the N (“noun”) position at spell-out in English16 (see the 15

Partially descriptive names, e.g., Princeton University (Soames ibid.: 53), are semantically associated with both a descriptive property and a referent, the latter being in part determined by descriptive mechanisms, and in part by non-descriptive ones. Soames, however, uses caution in extending the partial descriptive theory to a term like Superman. 16 A similar situation is illustrated by Romanian masculine names. The difference from English, however, lies in the fact that feminine proper names in Romanian

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contrast between 18 and 19), unlike Italian, where they move under the D node (see 21 and 22) (see D’Angelo and Napoli 2000): (18) Old John lives next door. (19) *John old lives next door.17 (20) Il mio Gino è arrivato. (D’Angeli and Napoli 2000) (21) Gino mio è arrivato. (ibid.) (22) Gino vecchio è arrivato. (ibid.) (23) *Vecchio Gino è arrivato. (ibid.) However, proper names raise to the D position at LF in English, in order to have their uniqueness feature checked: (24) [DP [D Johni [NP [N ti ]]]] This raising occurs after spell-out, and cases with appellatives, like (15), repeated here as (25), confirm it: the D position is unoccupied (null determiner) and the proper name moves to it at LF. This is evidence that Rabbit is identifying rather than descriptive, i.e., it does not predicate “rabbithood” of some individual, as rabbit in (26) does, and explains the contrast between (25) and (26)—a definite description with the noun under the N node and the definite determiner in the D: (25) Rabbit was scared. (26) The rabbit was scared. Now, the names in (16) and (17) occur in configurations different from (15/25), occupying the N position in the spell-out (see [27] and [28]) and being headed by a definite and, respectively, an indefinite determiner; furthermore, they are coupled with a restrictive relative clause or a PP, which modify descriptions, yielding more specific descriptions. (27) [DP [D the [NP [N John Brown [CP who lives next door]]]]] (28) [DP [D a [NP [N Shakespeare [PP of our time]]]]]

(e.g., Ioana) are not headed by a null determiner, they having the definite article attached: “-a”). This article, however, has a merely syntactic relevance, not a semantic one, since it does not contribute to the “definiteness” of the NP. The case in question, as well as the situation in Italian, suggests that this syntactic format for proper names is not universal. 17 The star (*) indicates ungrammaticality.

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This suggests that John Brown and Shakespeare in these examples are not genuine proper names, but descriptions, like common names (see D’Angeli and Napoli 2000). But what kind of descriptions are they? If for Shakespeare in (17) a universal is available and some existing individual is assigned the property associated with this universal (e.g., “displaying an excellence similar to Shakespeare’s”), John Brown in (16) describes the individual that it picks out as bearer of the name John Brown, i.e., it ascribes to him a linguistic, not an extralinguistic property (see D’Angeli and Napoli 2000: 216). Thus, the appellative and the expressions in question do not appear to disprove the Kripkean analysis of proper names, since the former emerges as nondescriptional, while the latter are proper names in disguise, i.e., not genuine proper names.

Conclusion Proper names of individuals emerge as non-descriptive, rigid designators, whose meaning lies exclusively in their denotation. As such, their contribution to the semantic content of the sentence lies in the individuals they denote, and not in descriptive contents. Appellatives like Rabbit, as used in normal situations, are identifying rather than descriptive, just like proper names; their understanding does not necessarily involve contemplation of their descriptive content. Unlike these, “names” headed by determiners, like Shakespeare and John Brown in “the John Brown who lives next door” and “a Shakespeare of our time,” are not genuine proper names, but are descriptional, like common names, their referent being determined by ascription of extralinguistic or linguistic features to the denoted individuals (the universal associated with Shakespeare, the bearer of a specific name, etc.).

References Bach, E. 1989. Informal Lectures on Formal Semantics. State University of New York Press. Carnap, R. 1956 (1947). Meaning and Necessity: a Study in Semantics and Modal Logic. University of Chicago Press. Chierchia, G., and S. McConnell-Ginet. 1990. Meaning and Grammar: An Introduction to Semantics. Cambridge, Massachusetts: MIT Press. Cocchiarella, N.B. 2005. Denoting Concepts, Reference, and the Logic of Names, Classes as Many, Goups, and Plurals. Linguistics and Philosophy 28: 135-179.

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D’Angelo, M., and E. Napoli. 2000. Proper Names, Descriptions and Quantifier Phrases. In Knowledge and Meaning, D. Marconi (ed.), 195234. Vercelli: Edizioni Mercurio. Davis, W. A. 2007. Intentionalism, descriptivism, and proper names. In John Searle’s Philosophy of Language. Force, meaning and Mind, S.L. Tsohatzidis (ed.), 102-124. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Frege, G. 1960 (1892). On Sense and Reference. In Philosophical Writings of Gottlob Frege, G.P. Geach and M. Black (eds.). Oxford: Blackwell. Kaplan, D. 1989 (1977). Demonstratives. In Themes from Kaplan, J. Almong, J. Perry and H. Wettstein (eds.). New York: Oxford University Press. —. 1979 (1978). Transworld Heir Lines. In M.J. Loux (ed.), 88-109. Kripke, S. 1982 (1972). Naming and Necessity. Oxford: Blackwell. —. 2011. Identity and necessity. Paper presented at the University of Bucharest, 2011 (reprinted by permission of New York University Press from Identity and Individuation, M.K. Munitz (ed.), 135-164. New York: New York University Press, 1971). Kienzle, B. 2006. Identität und das Drei-Ebenen-Modell. Lectures presented at the Identität. Nation. Nationenbildung Summer School, Rostock: Rostock University and Babeú-Bolyai University, ClujNapoca. La Fauci, N., and M. Loporcaro. 1997. Outline of a Theory of Existentials on Evidence from Romance. Studi Italiani di Linguistica Teorica e Applicata XXVI: 5-55. Lewis, D. 1979a (1969). Counterpart Theory and Quantified Modal Logic. In M.J. Loux (ed.), 110-128. —. 1979b (1973). Possible Worlds. In Michael J. Loux (ed.), 182-189. Longobardi, G. 1994. Reference and Proper Names: A Theory of NMovement in Syntax and Logical Form. Linguistic Inquiry 25/4: 609665. Loux, M.J. (ed.). 1979. The Possible and the Actual: Readings in the Metaphysics of Modality. Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press. Moeschler, J., and A. Reboul. 1999 (1994). DicĠionar enciclopedic de pragmatică. Cluj: Editura Echinox. Oltean, ù. 2009. On the semantics of proper names and common names. Studia Universitatis Babeú-Bolyai, Philologia LIV (4): 157-168. Portner, P.H. 2005. What Is Meaning? Fundamentals of Formal Semantics. Oxford: Blackwell. Rescher, N. 1979 (1973). The Ontology of the Possible. In M.J. Loux (ed.), 166-181.

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Rosen, C.G. 1991. Nonlinear Syntax. Course Notes. Ithaca, New York: Cornell University. Saeed, I.J. 1997. Semantics. Oxford: Blackwell. Salmon, N. 2005. Are General Terms Rigid? Linguistics and Philosophy 28: 117-134. Searle, J.R. 1983. Intentionality. An Essay in the Philosophy of Mind. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Soames, S. 2002. Beyond Rigidity. The Unfinished Semantic Agenda of ‘Naming and Necessity.’ Oxford: Oxford University Press. Tănase Dogaru, M. 2007. The Category of Number. Its Relevance for the Syntax and the Semantic Typology of the Nominal Group. PhD diss., University of Bucharest.

PART II: NAMES OF PUBLIC PLACES (LINGUISTIC LANDSCAPES)

A QUANTITATIVE STUDY OF LINGUISTIC LANDSCAPE IN SOME ASIAN URBAN NEIGHBOURHOODS YUAN JIANG AND KAZUKO TANABE Introduction Linguistic landscape is a term understood to refer to the visual manifestations of the complicated relationship between language and society—“language in the landscape,” for example on signs on the street. As nowadays globalisation progresses worldwide, the linguistic landscape responds sensitively to this historic change and can act to some degree as an index of globalisation. This is because language is a product of social activity, and the conditions and context of language usage are miniature versions of broader social conditions and context. The purpose of this research is to explicate the social formation process by quantitatively examining the actual situation of language use in landscapes.

Previous research Jiang (2009a) introduced four categories of previous work pertaining to linguistic landscape and serving as its theoretical foundation: (1) geographical research, (2) sociolinguistic research, (3) linguistic-economic research, and (4) language service. At the same time, various studies have been carried out overseas from different perspectives and through different methods. In this section, the problems and challenges of previous research are discussed. Although there has been a large amount of research in the field of linguistic landscape, it is difficult to compare studies objectively in this field due to the different methods they adopt. Many of these studies have suggested a synchronic perspective, but few have considered diachronic change in progress in linguistic landscapes or made future projections. There has also been much research focusing on the internal or linguistic aspect of the linguistic landscape and less on its sociological characteristics. Finally, while many studies have focused on particular linguistic landscape features—such as street signs in particular areas—,

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none have focused on generalising laws or taking a comparative perspective. In the present diachronic study, we used historical photographs and data provided by other researchers as well as data gathered specifically for this research. We calculated ratios of use of various languages (the native language of a location, English, and other languages), writing systems (Japanese kanji and kana or Chinese hanzi and the Roman alphabet) and writing orientation (horizontal or vertical) in several centres in various Asian cities, compared them and attempted to generalise a theory of linguistic landscape research.

Research summary Objectives Even in a broad sense, it is not easy to define a methodology that can capture a linguistic landscape as a whole as well as its process of development. This process involves sociocultural as well as political and economic problems and is not only a language question. The main objective of this research is to examine the actual conditions of language use in the geographical landscape from a sociolinguistic perspective and to clarify its development process. Another objective is to provide a new definition of “linguistic landscape”, which reflects changes due to social processes such as globalisation, anglicisation and multilingualisation.

Research sites In this chapter, two sociological items (area and relevant industry) and three linguistic items (language, writing system and writing orientation) were set up as research items to assess linguistic landscape. The data are presented in triangle graphs and examined comprehensively from a macro perspective, using correspondence analysis. In addition, historical photos of the areas and previous research results are compared to our findings. The previous data are collected from (1) Inoue (Privately printed book), and (2) 1850-2010 A Photo Contrast of Past Glories and New Accomplishments. Our research was conducted in sixteen areas of four Asian cities after multiple roadside observations and preliminary investigations to ensure their suitability. They were:

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(1) The Ginza, Omotesando, Shinjuku, Akihabara and Monzennakacho in Tokyo, from June to December 2007; (2) Nanjing Road, Yu Garden and Shintenchi in Shanghai, in February 2009; (3) Dotonbori, Shinsaibashi and Nihonbashi Denkigai in Osaka, in March 2009; and (4) Mong Kok, Yau Ma Tei, Tsim Sha Tsui, Causeway Bay and Lan Kwai Fong in Hong Kong in June 2010. These areas were chosen because they are well-known, commercially concentrated, representative urban centres. Inoue (2007) says that “economic principles are easily reflected in the linguistic landscape in commercial facilities, so there is more linguistic variety in them than on public signs.” In Tokyo, sites were chosen according to the ward and the number of shops; the Ginza in Chuo Ward (most shops in the ward) was first, Omotesando (third most shops within the ward) at the corner of Aoyama-dori in Minato Ward was eleventh, Shinjuku Station East Exit (most shops in the ward) in Shinjuku Ward was third, Akihabara (most shops in the ward) in Chiyoda Ward was tenth and Monzennakacho (second most shops in the ward) in Koto Ward was fifteenth. The general images of these five areas are as follows: Ginza is an old shopping district filled with expensive shops; Omotesando is a stylish area with foreign luxury brands, fashions and tree-lined streets; Shinjuku is a modern shopping district filled with energy. Akihabara is an electronics district attracting people from all over the world and Monzennakacho has the friendly atmosphere of Tokyo’s traditional commercial and working-class neighbourhoods. In this chapter, we will consider how much these images are reflected in the language usage and linguistic landscape of each area. We found patterns that can be grouped into home-country-oriented (Ginza, Shinjuku, Monzennakacho), Westernoriented (Omotesando) and Asian-oriented (Akihabara); these will be described below. The research sites in Osaka, Shanghai and Hong Kong were selected on a similar basis to compare results with those for the Tokyo locales. The data were drawn from all visible signs located on both sides of the main street of the researched area, including store signs and advertisements; thus, the linguistic landscape in question was mainly privately (commercially) as opposed to publically developed. Since the landscape changes at night, data gathering was limited to daytime. In this research, gathered picture data were divided by area, language, writing system, text orientation and industry; these variables were coded

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for a multivariate analysis called “correspondence analysis” using SPSS (version 15) statistical software. In 2012, Tanabe made a case study on the names of the 123 shops in the Tokyo shopping mall Shibuya 109. This research analyses each name from the orthographic, semantic, phonetic and sociolinguistic points of view.

Results: Triangle graphs Figure 1 is a visualisation of Table 1. Data are arranged by area from highest to lowest level of native language (Japanese or Chinese) use. Thus, it shows the ratio of language use in the linguistic landscape of each area. Let us take use of native language as a starting point. Most of the time, Chinese is used in China and Japanese in Japan; worldwide, the increasing usage of English is a characteristic of globalisation, as is the use of other mostly European and Asian languages outside of their traditional milieux. The overall trend of change in languages used in the linguistic landscape is observed as in Figure 2. Initially, native languages dominate; then use of English begins to increase at a certain point. Finally, the synergic use of other (European and Asian) languages leads to the emergence of an equilibrium. The arrow in Figure 2 indicates change of language use in the linguistic landscape from the modern era to the present and projects the direction of future changes. 100% 90% 80% 70% 60% 50% 40% 30% 20% 10% 0%

Other English

Native Language

Figure 1. Ratio of language use in linguistic landscapes

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Table 1. Detailed ratio of language use in linguistic landscape Native Language 1.00 Old Facets of Life 0.94 Old Urban Development 0.91 Old Scenes of City 0.85 Old Urban Development 0.82 Monzennakacho 0.76 Dotonbori 0.72 Yu Garden 0.71 Yau Ma Tei 0.71 Mikawashima 0.67 New Historical Architecture 0.67 Ginza 0.66 Akihabara 0.66 Shinjuku 0.65 Old Historical Architecture 0.62 Mong Kok 0.60 Nihonbashi Denkigai 0.59 New Scenes of City 0.58 Shin’imazato 0.57 New Facets of Life 0.56 Nanjing Road 0.54 Isazakicho 0.44 Shin-Okubo 0.43 Uppsala 0.35 Omotesando 0.35 Shintenchi 0.32 Zurich 0.31 Causeway Bay 0.19 Tsim Sha Tsui 0.12 Lan Kwai Fong

English

Other

0.00 0.06 0.09 0.15 0.15 0.19 0.26 0.29 0.24 0.30 0.20 0.28 0.26 0.35 0.28 0.28 0.40 0.28 0.43 0.35 0.35 0.34 0.34 0.37 0.53 0.32 0.46 0.46 0.88

0.00 0.00 0.00 0.00 0.03 0.05 0.02 0.00 0.05 0.02 0.13 0.07 0.09 0.00 0.10 0.12 0.01 0.15 0.00 0.09 0.11 0.22 0.23 0.28 0.13 0.35 0.23 0.36 0.00

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Tok yo, Osaka Korean Town Shanghai New and Old Shanghai contrast Europe

Native language

Hong Kong

Others

Figure 2. Triaangle graph for languages used d (native languaage, English and d others)

Compreh hensive exam mination with correspondence analysis a Correspoondence analyysis is a multiivariate analyssis that maps data in a multidimenssional area annd expresses th he relationship of data elem ments in a visual form. The combinaation of the firrst and second dimensions shows s the m factors. correlation bbetween the main The firstt dimension, when the corrrespondence figure is viewed w from the side as iin Figure 3, can be divided d roughly verttically bythe language used (Chineese or Japanesse), with Japanese on the left and Chineese being on the right..

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㻃㻕

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Japan



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ᘋ∸䛴ྞ⛘ ⚽ⴝཋ 々ྙ䝿 ⥪ྙ䜻䝫 䝇䝛 ᪝ᮇᶣ㞹Ẵ⾜ 㣟㣏㛭౿ ⦢᭡䛓 ₆Ꮚ 㞹Ẵ⿿ဗ ፑᴞ᪃シ 䛣䛴௙ 㐠㡳ᇷ

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᪪ぽ ⦶మᏊ

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Dimension ḗඔ㻃㻔 1







Figure 3. All items in correspondence analysis (dimensions 1 and 2)

When viewed from the horizontal angle, however, as in Figure 4, the second dimension is plotted top to bottom to show linguistic and social attributes, based on whether it is fashion related that European languages are used often. When examined comprehensively, they can be divided into three groups; one that mostly uses European languages and English; one that uses the local language and English approximately equally and one that mainly uses the local language. These three groups are called Westernoriented, eclectic and home-country–oriented (Japan-oriented or Chinaoriented) based on their linguistic landscapes. Language use is influenced by social norms; here, the characteristics of each group are the result both linguistic and social factors. The influence

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of the social factors can be clarified by looking at some sociolinguistic features. First, the Western-oriented group often uses European languages and Roman letters, so there are many signs using horizontal writing from left to right. Since the fashion, medical and beauty industries are absorbing a large amount from the West, they use a large amount of English and European languages, as the results show. Next, the eclectic group uses a variety of languages and texts to correspond to a variety of industries. Finally, the home-country-oriented group uses Japanese kanji and kana or Chinese hanzi in vertical and right-to-left writing styles. 2

㻃㻕

ḗ ඔDimension 㻗

ᑞἃ࿦

Western oriented

䝬䞀䝱䝇䝕ㅎゕㄊ



䝙䜥䝇䜻䝫 䝷㛭౿

⾪ཤ㐠

⹊᰿ᆎ

㖙⨮‬

ᚨᩢᶣ

䝱䞀䝢Ꮚ

᩺ኮᆀ 㻨 㖗ᗑ

༈⒢䝿 ೸ᗛ䝿 ⨶ᐖ㛭౿

䝋䝕䞀䝌䝿 䝦䞀䝯➴

᩺ᐙ ᕞᶋ᭡䛓

㖗⾔䝿 㔘⼝㛭౿ ஥ຸᡜ➴ 䜯䝃䜯䝎



㻭 㛓๑௯⏣ 䛸䜏䛒䛰

᭡ᗉ

ᘋ∸䛴ྞ⛘ ⚽ⴝཋ 々ྙ䝿 ⥪ྙ䜻䝫 䝇䝛 ᪝ᮇᶣ㞹Ẵ⾜ 㣟㣏㛭౿ ⦢᭡䛓 ₆Ꮚ 㞹Ẵ⿿ဗ ፑᴞ᪃シ 㐠㡳ᇷ

༞ா㊨

Eclectic oriented

ⰹ⾙䝿 ᕝⰹဗ㛭౿

䝟䝊䝯䝿 ᪉㤃

䛣䛴௙

㻦 ㇟ᅧ 䜦䜼䜦ㅎゕㄊᩝᏊ 䜦䜼䜦ㅎゕㄊ

᪪ぽ ⦶మᏊ

Home country oriented

㻐㻕

ἔ㯖ᆀ

ྎᶋ᭡䛓

㻐㻗 㻐㻕

㻐㻔









ḗඔ㻃㻔

Dimension 1

Figure 4. All items in correspondence analysis (dimensions 1 and 2)

All of this can be considered largely as the result of extralinguistic considerations. The phenomenon of language change (in any realm of language use) involves convergence and dispersion. Using correspondence

A Quantitative Study of Linguistic Landscape

76

analysis, we now model change in language use, which happens in the direction of the arrow indicated in Figure 5. 㻃㻕

ḗ ඔDimension 㻗

2 ᑞἃ࿦

䝬䞀䝱䝇䝕ㅎゕㄊ



䝙䜥䝇䜻䝫䝷㛭౿

⾪ཤ㐠

⹊᰿ᆎ

㖙⨮‬

ᚨᩢᶣ

䝱䞀䝢Ꮚ

᩺ኮᆀ 㻨 㖗ᗑ

༈⒢䝿 ೸ᗛ䝿 ⨶ᐖ㛭౿

䝋䝕䞀䝌 䝿 䝦䞀䝯➴

᩺ᐙ ᕞᶋ᭡䛓

㖗⾔䝿 㔘⼝㛭౿ ஥ຸᡜ➴ 䜯䝃䜯䝎



㻭 㛓๑௯⏣ 䛸䜏䛒䛰

᭡ᗉ

ᘋ∸䛴ྞ⛘ ⚽ⴝཋ 々ྙ䝿 ⥪ྙ䜻䝫䝇䝛 ᪝ᮇᶣ㞹Ẵ⾜ 㣟㣏㛭౿ ⦢᭡䛓 ₆Ꮚ 㞹Ẵ⿿ဗ ፑᴞ᪃シ

༞ா㊨

ⰹ⾙䝿 ᕝⰹဗ㛭౿

䝟䝊䝯䝿 ᪉㤃

䛣䛴௙

㐠㡳ᇷ 㻦 ㇟ᅧ 䜦䜼䜦ㅎゕㄊᩝᏊ 䜦䜼䜦ㅎゕㄊ

᪪ぽ ⦶మᏊ

㻐㻕

ἔ㯖ᆀ

ྎᶋ᭡䛓

㻐㻗 㻐㻕

㻐㻔









ḗඔ Dimension 1㻃㻔

Figure 5. All items in correspondence analysis (dimensions 1 and 2)

Here, as described above, the situation moves from one in which the local language (Japanese or Chinese) is predominant to one in which English is on the increase as part of globalisation. In the figure, two arrows are pointing to European languages and Asian languages, respectively, from English, since English cannot play a role as communicator or mood maker in all cases; European and Asian languages must take over some of the roles that English cannot take. For example, fashion-related shops that deal with French or Italian brands may use French and Italian on their signs, and Korean restaurants may use Korean. This phenomenon indicates that globalisation is a multilingual and

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multicultural phenomenon, which we do not project to lead toward an English monoculture. From the internal examination result mentioned above, we see that the languages used converge from local languages to English and then disperse from English to other European and Asian. However, it should be remembered that change in language use in the linguistic landscape is not change in the language itself and should be differentiated from language change phenomena such as (e.g.) dialect standardisation.

A new definition of “linguistic landscape” As Jiang (2009a) points out, the existing definition of linguistic landscape has various problems. Since this chapter has clarified rules of influence from social factors (areas and industries) on linguistic items in a linguistic landscape, “linguistic landscape” can be newly defined as the expression of the socially bound usage of language in the landscape. The relationship between language, society and landscape is modelled in Figure 6. Landscape

Linguistic landscape Language

Society

Figure 6. Relationship between language, landscape and society

The following analysis of the names of shops in the Tokyo mall Shibuya 109 (based on Tanabe’s research of 2012) reveals some functions of the linguistic landscape in Japanese society. Shibuya 109 is located in Shibuya, on the west side of Tokyo. Shibuya is a popular area among young people. It contains many high-end brand shops in the area around Shibuya Station as well as Takeshita-dori in Harajuku (also in Shibuya Ward), famous for avant-garde and subcultural fashion and make-up such as the black-faced ganguro style. Shibuya 109 is a ten-floor building (including two basement floors) with 123 shops that are the best place to find stylish, but often reasonably priced, new fashions for each season; it is especially popular among teenage girls. Most of the 123 shops sell clothing for young women, but there are also some shoe

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shops, accessory shops and general goods shops, as well as a hair salon, a nail salon and a wig shop. Historically, the location was a kimono shop, and initially there were some kimono shops inside 109, but they are all now closed.

Method We gathered information on nine items from the shop names in Shibuya 109 in November 2012. They are: (1) language; (2) writing system (Japanese, including kanji and kana, or Western, including foreignlanguage words and rǀmaji); (3) writing orientation; (4) meaning; (5) initial sounds (classified according to the kana syllabary); (6) number of characters (including spaces); (7) number of morae; (8) type of shop (selling women’s clothing, shoes, accessories and other goods, bags, socks, undergarment, beauty products, or businesses providing various types of services); (9) floor number.

Analysis With regard to language, writing system and writing orientation, over 90% of the stores (about 110 out of 123) exhibit the following features: (1) the representation of sounds in a way that presumes an English kind of phonology, (2) the Roman alphabet, and (3) horizontal writing. The exceptions include a café restaurant called MA MAISON, with a French name, a socks/undergarment shop, Pokoapoko, with Japanese phonemes (rendered in hiragana script, which is used for Japanese only), an Italian restaurant, Kiriko di Napoli, and a women’s clothing store, Supinzu, the last two names employing katakana (used to write foreign words). A shop pertaining to the service industry, Chikettopoto, uses hiragana, but purposely writes ‘ticket port’ out in hiragana. Shops that do not use the Roman alphabet are disproportionately in areas other than women’s clothes; among the 92 women’s clothing stores, only “supins” does not use the alphabet in its signs. With regard to writing orientation, all store names are horizontal. With regard to meaning, we researched whether the shop name clarifies what the shop sells or what service it provides, as well as whether it contains a brand or company name. Three shops clearly show what industry they are in: EXCEL Colorist, Nail Craft and NAVANA WIG WIG. (If we include Chikettopoto, the number rises to four.) However, they are all in fields other than clothes. With regard to brand and company names, only one was found: Mitsumaru.

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With regard to sounds, twenty-three shops have names that start with sounds from the ‘ra line’ of the Japanese syllabary (ra, ri, ru, re, ro) with the first consonant being “l” or “r,” since these are both rendered with the ra line in kana. Examples include ‘LADY-MADE’ and ‘Ruby-Rose’. Similarly, twenty-two shop names started with sounds from the ‘ma line’ (‘min plum,’ ‘moussy’), sixteen with the ‘sa line’ (SLY, SPIGA), and ten shops with the ‘a line’ (the vowels /a/, /i/, /u/, /e/, /o/), such as Avan Lily and Ober Tashe. Thus, more than half of the shop names are covered by these four categories. 25 22

23

Shop Number 20 16 15 10

9

10 5 5

5

4

8

7 5

4 2

3

0

Figure 7. Numbers of shops by phonetic lines

With regard to number of characters on signs, nineteen shops used five, seventeen used nine, thirteen used six, twelve used ten, and eleven used seven. The mean was 8.67, and the majority of the shops used five to ten characters.

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19

20

18

18 16 Shop Number 14

13 11

12

12 10

10 8 6

5

9

6

5

4

2

3

2

1

2

3 1

1

1

1

0 3

4

5

6

7

8

9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 18 19 21 22 23 Text Number

Figure 8. Number of shops by number of characters

For number of syllables, shop names in English were converted to katakana writing (the forms assumed were the ones used at http://www.shibuya109.jp/floor_guide/floor_map?tab=0) and the number of morae was counted. There were twenty shops each with four and six morae in their names, nineteen shops each with three and five, and eighteen shops with seven. The average number of morae was 5.72, and more than 80% of the stores had between three and seven. For example, SpRay (su-pu-re-i) has four, PEACH JOHN (pi-i-chi-jo-n) and Miauler Mew (mi-o-re-myu-u) have five, and Sneep Dip (su-ni-i-pu-di-ppu) has six. With regard to type of shop and floor number, about 75% of all stores sell women’s clothes; these are concentrated on the first to sixth floors of the building. On the higher floors, the seventh and eighth, eight shops out of thirteen sell women’s clothes, while the remaining five consist of two café restaurants, an alteration shop, a swimwear shop and a shoe shop. On the top floor, the eighth, four out of seven shops sell women’s clothes, while the three remaining shops include a salon and two general goods shops. In the first basement floor, four out of sixteen shops are shoe shops and the other twelve sell women’s clothes. On the second basement floor, three of the twelve shops are accessory and general goods shops, one is a wig shop, one is a bag shop, and the remaining seven shops sell women’s clothes. The better locations with higher rent are more likely to be clothing shops, since these generally have higher profit.

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25 19

Shop Number 20

20

19

20 18

15 10

7

7

5 5

2

3

2

1

0 2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

12

13

14

Syllable Number

Figure 9. Number of shops by syllables

In this section, 123 tenant shops in a shopping building in Tokyo, Shibuya 109, were analysed from the various linguistic and social perspectives mentioned above. It is difficult to say that the naming of these shops shows patterns of variation, since most of them have similar, common names. Most of these names use horizontal writing and English orthography, and meanings are often not evident. Furthermore, many of the names start with characters from the sa, ma and ra lines of the Japanese kana syllabary or with vowels, and they are on average around nine characters and six morae. This is likely due to admiration for Western culture in the minds of Japanese people, which give the merchandise a feeling of “cool” by association. This shows that with a clear commercial target, words of a certain sound and length are adopted to give a good impression.

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Table 2. Number of shops by type and floor Type Floor Women's Wear Beauty Salon Restaurant Accessory Services Bags Socks Inner Wear Hats Shoes Total

8 7 6 5 4 9 11 11 1 0 0 0 0 2 0 0 2 0 4 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 0 7 13 16 11

4 3 2 14 9 6 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 1 1 0 0 1 0 1 0 0 2 0 0 1 0 0 1 0 0 0 1 14 15 10

1 -1 6 12 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 1 4 8 17

-2 7 1 0 3 0 1 0 0 0 0 12

Total

89 3 2 12 2 4 2 1 1 7 123

Conclusion In this chapter, Asian linguistic landscapes were divided into homecountry–oriented, eclectic and Western-oriented, on the basis of a study of locations in several cities. This has clarified how socioeconomic factors influence the formation of linguistic landscape and rules have been identified; on this basis, socioeconomic derivation of linguistic factors can be seen as an important part of future work on linguistic landscape. Thus, we have come to a new definition of “linguistic landscape” as the expression of the socially bound usage of language in the landscape. In addition, we have made a contribution to a theoretical framework for linguistic landscape research. We will take the construction and elaboration in full of this theoretical framework as a future challenge, identifying additional factors and taking a broader international view.

References ஭ୖྐ㞝. 2007. ࠕከゝㄒ⾲♧ࡢ⤒῭ཎ⌮ࠖࠗ♫఍ゝㄒ⛉Ꮫ఍ ➨20 ᅇ኱఍Ⓨ⾲ㄽᩥ㞟࠘ 255-256. ♫఍ゝㄒ⛉Ꮫ఍ [Inoue, F. 2007. Tagengo Hyoji no Keizai Genri. In Shakai Gengo Kagakukai Dai 20 kai Taikai Happyo Ronbunshu: 255-256. The Japanese Association of Sociolinguistic Sciences (ed.).]

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Ụ ※ 2008a.ࠕゝㄒᬒほ࠿ࡽぢࡿ᪥ᮏࡢከゝㄒ໬≧ἣࠖ᫂ᾏ኱Ꮫ኱ Ꮫ㝔 ᛂ⏝ゝㄒᏛ◊✲⛉ಟኈᏛ఩ㄽᩥ [Jiang, Y. 2008a. Gengo Keikan kara Miru Nihon no Tagengoka Jyokyo. Master’s thesis, Graduate School of Applied Linguistics, Meikai University.] ʊ. 2008b. ࠕゝㄒᬒほ࡟ぢࡽࢀࡿᮾிከゝㄒ໬ࡢᐇែ㸫ၟᴗ㞟✚ᆅ ᇦࢆㄪᰝᑐ㇟࡟㸫ࠖࠗ♫఍ゝㄒ⛉Ꮫ఍ ➨22ᅇ኱఍Ⓨ⾲ㄽᩥ㞟 ࠘86-89. ♫఍ゝㄒ⛉Ꮫ఍ [Jiang, Y. 2008b. Gengo Keikan ni Mirareru Tokyo Tagengoka no Jittai: Shogyo Shuseki Chiiki o Chosa Taisho ni. In Shakai Gengo Kagakukai Dai 22 kai Taikai Happyo Ronbunshu: 86-89. The Japanese Association of Sociolinguistic Sciences (ed.).] ʊ. 2008c. ࠕ᪥ᮏࡢከゝㄒ໬≧ἣ࡟㛵ࡍࡿ୍⪃ᐹʊゝㄒᬒほࢆㄪᰝ ᑐ㇟࡟ʊࠖ➨8ᅇᅜ㝿᪥ᮏㄒᩍ⫱࣭᪥ᮏ◊✲ࢩ࣏ࣥࢪ࣒࢘ ࣏ࢫ ࢱ࣮Ⓨ⾲ [Jiang, Y. 2008c. Nihon no Tagengoka Jyokyo ni Kansuru Ichi Kosatu: Gengo Keikan o Chosa Taisho ni. Poster Session of the 8th International Symposium on Japanese Language Education and Japanese Studies: Multiculturalism and Japanese Language Education/Japanese Studies in Asia and Oceania.] ʊ. 2009a. ࠕゝㄒᬒほ◊✲ࡢ⌧≧࡟ࡘ࠸࡚ࠖࠗ᫂ᾏ᪥ᮏㄒ ➨14ྕ ࠘᫂ᾏ኱Ꮫ᪥ᮏㄒᏛ఍ [Jiang, Y. 2009a. Gengo Keikan no Genjyo nituite. Meikai Nihongo 14. Meikai Nihongo Gakkai (ed.).] ʊ. 2009b. 㺀᪥ᮏࡢከゝㄒ໬≧ἣ࡟㛵ࡍࡿ୍⪃ᐹʊゝㄒᬒほࢆㄪᰝᑐ ㇟࡟ʊ㺁ࠗ࢔ࢪ࢔࣭࢜ࢭ࢔ࢽ࢔ᆅᇦ࡟࠾ࡅࡿከᩥ໬ඹ⏕♫఍࡜᪥ ᮏㄒᩍ⫱࣭᪥ᮏ◊✲㸦➨8ᅇ ᅜ㝿᪥ᮏㄒᩍ⫱࣭᪥ᮏ◊✲ࢩ࣏ࣥ ࢪ࣒࢘఍㆟㘓㸧࠘ྥ᪥ⵇฟ∧♫ ୰ᅜ࣭㤶  [Jiang, Y. 2009b. Nihon no Tagengoka Jyokyo ni Kansuru Ichi Kosatu: Gengo Keikan o Chosa Taisho ni. In Proceedings of the 8th International Symposium on Japanese Language Education and Japanese Studies: Multiculturalism and Japanese Language Education/Japanese Studies in Asia and Oceania. Hong Kong: Himawari Publishing Company.] ʊ. 2009c.ࠕゝㄒᬒほࡢᡂᅉ࡟㛵ࡍࡿ♫఍ゝㄒᏛⓗ⪃ᐹࠖ ࠗ᪥ᮏ◊ ✲ᩥ㞟㸷࠘ᚎᚿᙉ㸦୺⦅㸧⳹ᮾ⌮ᕤ኱Ꮫฟ∧♫ ୰ᅜ࣭ୖᾏ [Jiang, Y. 2009c. Gengo Keikan no Seiin ni Kansuru Shakai Genggakuteki Kosatu. In Nihon Kenkyu Bunshu 9, Xu Zhiqiang (ed.). Shanghai: East China University of Science and Technology Press.] ʊ. 2011.ࠕゝㄒᬒほࡢᙧᡂ㐣⛬࡟㛵ࡍࡿ♫఍ゝㄒᏛⓗ◊✲ࠖ ᫂ᾏ኱ Ꮫ኱Ꮫ㝔 ᛂ⏝ゝㄒᏛ◊✲⛉༤ኈᏛ఩ㄽᩥ [Jiang, Y. 2011. A Sociolinguistic Study of the Formation Process of the Linguistic

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Landscape. PhD diss., Graduate School of Applied Linguistics, Meikai University.] Jiang, Y., and K. Tanabe. 2010. Comparative researches about linguistic landscape of China and Japan. Sociolinguistics Symposium 18.

ONOMASTICS IN THE PUBLIC SPACE OF BARCELONA: A COMPARED STUDY BETWEEN THE OLD CITY AND THE EIXAMPLE DISTRICT JOAN TORT-DONADA Introduction The aim of this chapter is to present a study of the onomastics in the public space of Barcelona, focusing essentially on the toponyms used in the city’s urban street system: i.e., the names borne by its streets, squares and avenues, and other elements in this system,1 in relation to the presentday municipality of Barcelona considered as a whole. The study does not seek to be exhaustive, given the complexity of undertaking an analysis of this nature in a city the size of Barcelona. According to the most recently available sources of information, Barcelona has around 1,200 street names in its gazetteer.2 Thus, here, the study is limited to a specific selection of names: one hundred in total, distributed between two quite distinct city districts: the Old Town (known by the city’s inhabitants by its Catalan name, Ciutat Vella) and what in 1859 became known as the New or Modern Town, referred to more generally as the Eixample. These hundred names have not been selected on an arbitrary basis nor have they been chosen solely on the basis of the linguistic or morphological characteristics of the toponyms. In practice, the selection has sought to reflect principles of historical and geographical affinity between the toponyms and the urban space in which they are used. In the case of the Old Town, a very specific type of place name has been selected: those that refer to trades (associated in guilds) and to the economic activities practiced by craftsmen in the streets bearing these 1

Strictly speaking the chapter undertakes an odonymic study, odonymy being that branch of onomastics concerned with the study of street names. 2 http://www.callejero-barcelona.es/lista-calles-barcelona-z.htm (accessed October 10, 2012).

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names, generally from the thirteenth century onwards. In the case of the Eixample district, the names selected are those that appeared on a list of 66 street names, approved by the City Hall in 1863 (Palomas 2009: 294), to identify a newly constructed network of streets and to which, as often happens in such cases, no previous toponymic references could be applied. As well as analysing the names selected, the study seeks to undertake a comparative study of the two groups of names, the aim being to provide a qualitative summary of the fundamental characteristics of the basic onomastics of the public space of Barcelona. The basic premise underpinning the study is that the streets, avenues, squares and other elements of the urban system play a fundamental role in the structuring and shaping of the urban public space.

The street names of Ciutat Vella General considerations The municipality of Barcelona occupies an area of 100.4 km² and has a population of 1,615,448 inhabitants (according to data for 2011). The current shape of the municipality is the result of a process of aggregation between 1897 and 1921 that saw the incorporation of the municipalities surrounding the historical district (namely, Sants, Sarrià, Les Corts, Sant Gervasi, Gràcia, Horta, Sant Martí de Provençals and Sant Andreu del Palomar). This onomastic study, however, takes as its basic point of reference the historical municipality of Barcelona, comprising two main urban sectors: Ciutat Vella, on the one hand, and the Eixample (or “New Town”), on the other. Today they form a single continuous urban space. But it should be stressed that until the middle of the nineteenth century (and the demolition of the walls surrounding the Ciutat Vella, and the subsequent construction of the Eixample), the boundaries between one sector and the other corresponded quite strictly to the boundary between urbs and rur, that is, between the city (as a constructed space) and the countryside (as an area free of construction, dedicated above all to agrarian production). The historical significance of the city of Barcelona (an important Roman settlement, the ancient Barcino, built on the top of Taber hill, which occupied the heart of the ancient city, and a highly developed, extensive network of streets and squares dating from medieval times) provides a wide range of interesting topics of study. This diversity also extends to the field of onomastics and, in particular, to that of diachronic onomastics. Here it is worth mentioning a pioneering work on this subject written in 1865: Las calles de Barcelona [The Streets of Barcelona], by

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Víctor Balaguer, who was employed as the city’s chronicler (or official historian). The study, an ambitious undertaking for its time, was published in two volumes with the explicit goal of explaining the origin of the city’s street names.3 This work has been particularly useful here for obtaining details of the onomastics of Ciutat Vella and, in particular, of the names associated with the ancient trades and medieval guilds. The analysis of these names is undertaken in the following section.

The reflection of ancient trades and guilds in the onomastics of Ciutat Vella The urban structure of Ciutat Vella is captured with great accuracy in the map that Balaguer includes in his study. As can be seen in Figure 1, it is a typical medieval structure (Chueca 1968: 87-107), in which, although the walls have been demolished, the outer perimeter remains clearly visible, in the form of a fairly regular hexagon shape. This “intramural” city is divided in two halves by the axis of the Rambla (former river course), which crosses the map from top to bottom, almost running through its centre, leaving Taber hill to its right, on which the Roman city was built and which, with time, was to become the political and symbolic centre of medieval Barcelona. It is in this sector—clearly visible on the map owing to the dense network of narrow, winding streets—that the artisans, grouped by guilds, concentrated to attend to the economic needs of the time. Their activity, at its most productive between the thirteenth and sixteenth centuries, would subsequently decline as new economic forms (which constituted part of the nascent process of industrialisation) began to be developed in the city from the seventeenth century onward. It is interesting to note that despite the changes in the physical appearance of the city’s public space during the last centuries, the memory of the medieval organisation of this space lives on today in its onomastics. In this sense, it is safe to claim that a significant number of the street names of Ciutat Vella in Barcelona constitute an excellent reminder of the organisation of the work conducted by the guilds, that is, work that typified the economy of Europe’s medieval cities (Pirenne 1972). 3

The author’s reasons for undertaking the work, which are printed on the title page, are highly informative in this regard: “The Streets of Barcelona. The origin of their names. Their memories, their traditions and legends. Biographies of leading figures who have given their name to some. The history of the famous events and happenings that took place in them and of the most notable buildings, both public and private, that stand in each of them, with a description and details of all that is important in relation to the capital of the Principality” (Balaguer 1865-1866).

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Figure 1. Thee Old City and the t Eixample District D accordinng to the originaal Cerdà’s extension prooject for Barceloona, officially approved a in 18559. Source: Insttitut Cartogràfic de Catalunya

Figure 2. A tyypical street in the t Old City. Pu ublic space is heere mainly cond ditioned by narrownesss, lack of sunligght and intensiv ve use of privatte space (housin ng). Source: J.T.

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Below an explanation is provided of some of these toponyms which, as this analysis of the street names of Barcelona shows,4 continue to reflect the former activities that took place in the streets and squares to which they refer: - Carrer dels Abaixadors5 - Carrer dels Agullers6 - Carrer de l’Argenter/Carrer de l’Argenteria7 - Carrer dels Assaonadors8 - Carrer de la Blanqueria9 - Carrer dels Boters10 - Carrer dels Brocaters11 - Carrer de les Caputxes12 - Carrer dels Carders13 - Carrer dels Cellers14 - Carrer dels Corders15 - Carrer dels Cotoners16 - Carrer de la Dagueria17

4

Our specific sources of information for this purpose have been Balaguer (18651865) and the official gazetteer of street names contained in Portavella (2010). Online version: http://www.bcn.es/nomenclator/catala/content.htm (accessed October 2012). 5 “Abaixador” or cloth-shearer, the name given to the craftsman in the textile sector who clipped the hair of the woollen cloth with large shearing scissors. 6 “Agullers”—needle makers. 7 Argenter and Argenteria, name of two streets that refer to the trade of the silversmith (or the craftsman that worked with silver, gold and precious stones). According to Balaguer, the second of these had earlier been known as carrer dels Passamaners (rope makers). 8 “Assaonadors”—tanners of animal hides. 9 The street of la Blanqueria refers to the “blanquers” (bleachers or tawers), craftsmen also involved in the tanning of leather. 10 “Boters”—coopers, barrel makers. 11 “Brocaters”—makers of woven brocade fabrics. 12 The craftsmen that made hoods had their workshops in this street. According to Balaguer, it had earlier been known as carrer dels Caputxers (the street of hood makers). 13 “Carders”—makers of hand cards for carding wool. 14 “Cellers”—wine cellars. According to Balaguer, this was the former name of carrer de la Corríbia, a street that disappeared when the Avinguda de la Catedral was built. 15 “Corders”—rope makers. 16 “Cotoners”—cotton dealers.

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Onomastics in the Public Space of Barcelona - Carrer dels Escudellers18 - Carrer de l’Esparteria19 - Carrer de l’Espaseria20 - Carrer dels Estanyers21 - Carrer de les Filateres22 - Carrer dels Flassaders23 - Carrer de la Formatgeria24 - Carrer de la Freneria25 - Carrer de les Freixures26 - Carrer de la Fusteria27 - Plaça de la Llana28 - Carrer de la Llibreteria29 - Carrer dels Mercaders30 - Carrer dels Metges31

17 In this street the makers of knives and daggers had their workshops. According to Balaguer, it had earlier been known as carrer dels Cofrers (trunk makers) and dels Drapers (cloth makers). 18 “Escudellers” or potters. In Barcelona this was one of the oldest guilds (according to Balaguer, dating back to the thirteenth century). It had earlier been known as carrer dels Ollers (the makers of pots and pans). 19 The street was home to the “esparters,” craftsman who worked with or sold espart, a stiff grass-like fibre used for making cord and baskets. 20 The street in which the sword makers worked. It had earlier been known as carrer dels Sabaters (shoemakers). 21 The former name for what is now carrer dels Ases. The “estanyers” were the tinsmiths crafting utensils out of tin. 22 The “filateres” were the women who made and mended fishing nets. 23 “Flassaders”—the craftsmen who made “flassades” or blankets. The guild is mentioned as early as 1331. 24 “Formatgeria”—the place where cheese was made. 25 “Freneria”—street that housed the “freners” or the craftsmen that made bits and harnesses for horses. According to Balaguer, in Barcelona this was one of the first trades to organise itself into a guild. 26 Place that sold “freixures” (that is, the lungs of the animals that were slaughtered and sold at the city’s abattoir). 27 According to Balaguer, the workshops of the “carpenters of the seashore” (that is, the craftsmen that repaired the fishing boats) concentrated in this street. 28 Place at which wool was sold. 29 The street in which the “llibreters” or booksellers concentrated (organised as a guild in 1446). According to Balaguer, the street had previously housed other trades: “apotecaris” (apothecaries), “especiers” (spice dealers), “espasers” (sword makers) and “calceters” (hosiers and stocking makers). 30 “Mercaders”—merchants. 31 Literally, ‘the street of the doctors.’ There used to stand a chapel in this street dedicated to the Cosme and Damià, the patron saints of physicians.

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- Carrer dels Mirallers32 - Carrer de la Neu33 - Carrer dels Obradors34 - Plaça de l’Oli35 - Plaça de les Olles36 - Carrer de la Palla37 - Carrer de la Pescateria38 - Carrer de les Ramelleres39 - Carrer de la Sal40 - Carrer de les Sitges41 - Carrer dels Sombrerers42 - Carrer dels Tallers43 - Carrer de la Tapineria44 - Plaça dels Traginers45 - Carrer del Vidre46 - Carrer de la Vidrieria47

32

“Miraller”—makers and sellers of mirrors. Literally, ‘the street of snow.’ Balaguer reports that “in this street and in a further two of the same name snow was sold, among other uses, to keep drinks cold.” 34 According to Balaguer, a street in which potters concentrated (the guild of the “escudellers,” cited in footnote 18). 35 Place where oil was sold. 36 The place name derives from “the public sale of pots” that took place there (Balaguer). 37 Balaguer reports that it was in this street that straw was weighed. 38 “Pescateria”—place where fish was sold to the public. 39 “Ramellera”—a florist, i.e., the woman that made and sold posies of flowers. 40 The street housed establishments that prepared and sold sea salt. 41 “Sitges”—grain silos or places for storing goods (usually grain). According to Balaguer, the silos in this street were still in use at the beginning of the nineteenth century. 42 “Sombrerers”—hat makers. The guild is first mentioned at the beginning of the fourteenth century. 43 “Tallers”—a name that refers to the trade of “meat cutters” or butchers. 44 Street in which the makers of “tapins” or “chopines” (a popular shoe in ancient times) concentrated. 45 “Traginers,” mule drivers, a very important guild in Barcelona prior to the mechanisation of transport. 46 According to Balaguer, in this street there had been a furnace for glassmaking. 47 A street housing “vidriers” or glassmakers. 33

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The street names of the Eixample A new type of onomastics What today is known as the district of the Eixample and which in practice constitutes the largest sector of the city of Barcelona, is in fact the urban area conceived and designed in the mid-nineteenth century by the engineer, Ildefonso Cerdà. His urban plan, approved in 1859 and put into effect from this date, is regarded as a model of its kind in the history of modern European urban planning (Serratosa 2006). In the urban design of the Eixample, with its network of streets and avenues organised in a totally logical and regular manner (Figure 3), the odonyms, or street names, acquire a strategic importance; in particular, as regards the identification of the urban space, since just a few names are used to refer to many miles of urban streets and avenues (Michonneau 2002). Unlike the onomastics of Ciutat Vella, that of the Eixample is a paradigmatic example of a new system of naming. From 1859 onwards, a new Barcelona began to rise up beyond the perimeter of the ancient city walls, on a broad plain cultivated by farmers and crossed by just a few streams and a traditional network of road and pathways: this was what had been known since medieval times as the Pla de Barcelona. The construction of new buildings kept pace with the opening up of the new streets, which on Cerdà’s plan were identified only by letters and numbers. According to a mentioned study (Palomas 2009), the process of officially selecting names for the streets of the Eixample took specially place in 1863 (but had different changes in the next years). By 1866 the number of names that had been approved totalled 66. It is this figure that is taken as the starting point for the analysis below. In the process that led to the official adoption of the names of the streets of the Eixample, a leading role was played by a character that we have already mentioned: Victor Balaguer, the city’s chronicler since 1852. He was commissioned by the City Council to propose an ordered list of names for the city’s new streets. In his proposal, submitted in 1863 (and described in detail in Carreras Candi 1916: 877-878), it is clear that his conception of these street names had an explicit political purpose: that of recovering and extolling the memory of Catalan nationality and of its greatest historical (and mythical) achievements. Here, it is worth stressing what would appear to be a somewhat exceptional circumstance from the onomastic point of view: despite the upheavals and sudden political changes that have taken place in Catalonia and in Spain over the last century and a half, the toponyms of the Eixample, despite their originally political conception, have remained largely unchanged. This is probably

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related to the district’s compact and regular physiognomy—the almost unchanging and timeless structure with which Cerdà was able to endow the new city.

Figure 3. Aerial view to Eastern Eixample of Barcelona in a recent photograph (2000). Source: J.T.

Below we summarise the genealogy of the names applied to the Eixample since its inception. In addition to the sources of information cited, we also consider the most recent (especially Portavella 2010).

The logic of the names of the Eixample Cerdà’s grid network combines main thoroughfares—what Cerdà called transcendental ways, the streets of greatest width that constitute the main traffic routes—with the secondary streets, roads with a standard width of 20 meters that make up the quintessential network of streets of the Eixample. The names of the main streets have a variety of origins: Passeig de Gràcia and Passeig de Sant Joan, for example, were urbanised before work began on the Eixample. Cerdà himself identified the “main thoroughfares” as the principal transport routes over the plain: the Meridiana links the city to the valley of the Besòs river, following “the true meridian from Barcelona to Sant Andreu”; the Paral.lel traces a line “that follows the parallel from the city gate of Santa Madrona to the Creu

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Coberta” (Cerdà, TCC: 1508); and from here, according to Cerdà, the traffic required a third route, what he referred to as the “coastal route” and which would come to be known as the Gran Via de les Corts Catalanes. The same is true of the Diagonal, which links the city to the valley of the Llobregat river, to the southwest, another of the “historical routes” over the Barcelona plain. In order to examine in greater detail the meaning of the street names of the Eixample since their inception, those selected in 1866 (for the most part, taken from Balaguer’s 1863 proposal) are classified in the groups listed below. Moreover, these groups facilitate the discussion of each case. (1) Reference to the historical institutions of Catalonia and Barcelona: - Les Corts Catalanes (Gran Via)48 - Consell de Cent49 - Diputació50 - Parlament51 - Universitat52

(2) Reference to the lands of the former Crown of Aragon: - Catalunya53 - Aragó54 - València55 - Mallorca56 - Provença57 48

Initially identified by Cerdà as the vía del litoral (‘the coastal route’), it is included in Balaguer’s 1863 proposal as Gran Via de les Corts Catalanes (the medieval assemblies of Catalonia). 49 Name of a traditional government institution (literally ‘Council of The Hundred’) of the city of Barcelona. 50 Reference to the Diputació del General, the former name of the Catalan Government (the Generalitat). 51 Reference to the Catalan parliament, with roots dating back to the Middle Ages. 52 A clear reference to the ancient University of Barcelona, although there is no indication that the name was proposed by Balaguer. 53 The name has been used to refer to two highly symbolic public spaces in the Eixample: the central square and the rambla. 54 One of the territories of the ancient confederation of Catalonia and Aragon. 55 Ibid. 56 Ibid. 57 Region of the French Mediterranean with important historical links with Catalonia.

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- Rosselló58 - Còrsega59 - Sardenya60 - Sicília61 - Nàpols62 - Calàbria63

(3) Figures or names associated with the independence or defence of Catalonia: - Casanova64 - Casp65 - Comte Borrell66 - Comte d’Urgell67 - Fontanella68 - Pau Claris69 - Pallars70 - Tamarit71 - Villarroel72 - Villena73 58 Ancient Catalan county, incorporated by the French crown following the defeat of Spain in the war against France in 1635. 59 Mediterranean island which in the medieval period was under the influence of the Crown of Aragon and Catalonia. 60 Ibid. 61 Ibid. 62 City and ancient kingdom linked in the medieval period to the Crown of Aragon and Catalonia. 63 Region in southern Italy linked in the medieval period to the Crown of Aragon and Catalonia. 64 Rafael de Casanova, leader of the resistance during the 1714 siege of Barcelona. 65 Reference to the so-called Compromís de Casp, an act and resolution of a dynastic conflict between Catalonia and Castile in 1412. 66 Reference to one of the counts of Barcelona in the tenth century. 67 Reference to the Count of Urgell, of great importance in the history of medieval Catalonia. 68 Joan Pere Fontanella, a jurist and defender of the constitutional rights of Catalonia in the seventeenth century. 69 President of the Generalitat in 1638, symbol of Catalan independence. 70 Hug de Pallars, Count of Pallars in the fifteenth century. 71 Francesc de Tamarit, politician, defender of Barcelona in the battle of Montjuïc (1641). 72 Antoni de Villarroel, leader of the resistance during the 1714 siege of Barcelona. 73 Enric de Villena, aristocrat closely related to the Catalan kings.

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(4) Other figures (Catalan writers, artists and intellectuals): - Alí Bei74 - Aribau75 - Ausiàs March76 - Balmes77 - Llull78 - Muntaner79 - Pujades80 - Viladomat81 - Vilanova82

(5) Names associated with the medieval expansion of Catalonia throughout the Mediterranean: - Roger de Flor83 - Entença84 - Roger de Llúria85 - Rocafort86 - Llança87 - Vilamarí88 - Aldana89 74 Pseudonym of Domènec Badia, writer and traveller (eighteenth-nineteenth centuries). 75 Writer, considered to be the originator of Catalan romanticism. 76 Writer, leading figure of Catalan-Valencian literature in the fifteenth century. 77 Jaume Balmes, highly influential philosopher in nineteenth century Catalonia and Spain. 78 Ramon Llull, philosopher and writer, leading figure of Catalan medieval literature. 79 Ramon Muntaner, medieval chronicler and leading figure of Catalan literature. 80 Jeroni Pujades, medieval chronicler. 81 Antoni Viladomat, leading Barcelona painter between the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. 82 Arnau de Vilanova, doctor, intellectual who had a great influence in medieval Europe. 83 Leader of the expedition of the Almogàvers (see footnote 90) to the Orient, in the fourteenth century. 84 Berenguer d’Entença, leader of the Almogàvers following the death of Roger de Flor. 85 Admiral of the Catalan fleet in Malta and Naples, in the thirteenth century. 86 Bernat de Rocafort, soldier, participated in the Almogàvers expedition. 87 Conrad Llança, Sicilian admiral in the service of the Crown of Aragon and Catalonia (thirteenth century). 88 Bernat de Vilamarí, admiral, defended Constantinople against the Turks.

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- Almogàvers90 - Glòries Catalanes91

(6) Reference to military figures and events of the age (nineteenth century): - Bruc92 - Manso93 - Girona94 - Tarragona95 - Puigcerdà96

(7) Reference to the main economic sectors: - Comerç97 - Indústria98 - Marina99

(8) Others:100 - Bailén101 - Bergara102 89 Joan Aldana, soldier (fifteenth-sixteenth centuries), fought in Pavía and in Tunisia. 90 Mercenary soldiers in the service of the Crown of Aragon and Catalonia, from the thirteenth century onwards. Famous for their expedition to the Orient at the beginning of the fourteenth century. 91 Allegorical name of the civilian and military victories of Catalonia. 92 Reference to the Battle of Bruc, in the Peninsular War. 93 Josep Manso, soldier, distinguished himself in the Peninsular War. 94 Reference to the siege of Girona, a key episode in the Peninsular War. 95 Reference to the siege of Tarragona, a key episode in the Peninsular War. 96 Reference to the siege of Puigcerdà, in the First Carlist War. 97 Allegorical name of the commercial activity promoted from the port of Barcelona. 98 Allegorical name of Barcelona’s industrial activity, initiated in the medieval period. 99 Allegorical name of the Catalan merchant and military navy, and its achievements. 100 This category includes various Eixample street names not included among Víctor Balaguer’s proposal in 1863, although they may appear to be thematically related. They were incorporated into Barcelona’s street names by the City Hall, after this date (Portavella 2010). 101 Reference to the Battle of Bailén, a key episode in the Peninsular War.

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Onomastics in the Public Space of Barcelona - Floridablanca103 - Marqués de Campo Sagrado104 - Pelai105 - Ronda106 - Sepúlveda107 - Trafalgar108

The “dual onomastics” of public space in the city of Barcelona. A comparative summary From a historical and urban planning perspective, the old town of Barcelona, known as the Ciutat Vella, is a highly representative testament of what is usually identified as being a European “medieval city.” The sinuous and labyrinthine structure of its streets, their narrowness and seeming disorder and the absence of any obvious hierarchy, as well as their close fit within this vast walled enclosure are qualities that even today ensure that the internal structure of the city of some six or seven centuries ago is easily recognisable. The same applies to its onomastic heritage and, specifically, to the names of its streets and squares: the forty names analysed here in this urban area, all referring to former trades and economic activities, allow us to undertake a reliable reconstruction of the sociology of the public space in the medieval city. These names, which act as true “toponymic fossils,” form a semantic set that despite the passing of the centuries since they were first used, still show a high degree of coherence, thematic diversity and internal logic. Ultimately, this network of names reveals the aptitude of each street and square to fulfil its role in the spatial relationships that are forged, creating a quintessential area of the city in which the “sentiment of communicativeness” that defines human societies (to use Cerdà’s expression) can be exercised (Tort and Paül 2005). 102

Reference to the Convention of Bergara, the treaty that brought the First Carlist War to an end. 103 Count of Floridablanca, Spanish statesman. 104 Captain General of Catalonia in the early decades of the nineteenth century. 105 First king of Asturias, in the eighth century. 106 Although the name has been correctly applied to the roads that follow the outer perimeter of the ancient glacis of the city walls (Ronda de Sant Pau, Ronda de Sant Antoni, Ronda de la Universitat, Ronda de Sant Pere), there is no indication that the name was proposed by Balaguer in his 1863. 107 Francisco Sepúlveda, civil governor of Barcelona at the time of the initiation of the Eixample plan. 108 Naval battle fought in 1805 between the British fleet and Franco-Spanish coalition.

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In turn, the Eixample district, the new Barcelona, whose basic features have been outlined in this chapter, also reveal to us, albeit in a very different sense, some interesting connections between urbanism and onomastics. Here, the construction of a new, carefully planned urban structure and the need to dispose of an ordered body of names that could be used to identify its streets and squares, led to the design and implementation of an onomastic set of a markedly political nature. Unlike the Ciutat Vella, the district’s onomastics has nothing to do with the specific uses of the physical space, nor does it capture the spontaneous perception of those who came to live here. Quite the contrary: what has occurred in this area is an explicit manifestation of what has become known as “toponymic will,” place names imposed at the instances of the political power (Dorion 1998). In the Eixample, as we have seen, this toponymic will was exercised by the City Hall in 1863, through the adoption of a body of names that allude specifically to the history of Catalonia and its national and historical roots. The intervention, in this exercise, of the historian Victor Balaguer helped ensure the overall consistency and completeness of the proposal. This proposal (in fact, official list of names from 1863) today remains essentially unchanged, despite the political upheavals experienced in Barcelona, Catalonia and Spain over the last hundred and fifty years.

Figure 4. Catalunya Square, in the Eixample District just at the border with the Old City. The emphasis in the public use of urban spaces is one of the greatest goals of Cerdà’s project. Source: J.T.

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Do the two “toponymic models” presented here have any aspects in common, beyond the fact that they refer to specific, yet distinctly different, sectors of the public space of the city of Barcelona? It is my opinion that, in a certain sense, they do. That is, the two sets of place names, despite having very distinct origins that satisfied very different motivations, both present a similar behaviour of persistence or continuity over time. The persistence shown by both sets of toponyms is an undeniable reality. What changes is the urban substrate, the type of city to which the names are applied. It is at this point that other questions begin to emerge. But raising them and seeking to respond to them, is a task for another study.

References Balaguer, V. 1865-1866. Las calles de Barcelona. Barcelona: Establecimiento editorial de Salvador Manero, 2 vol. [Facsimile edition, Madrid: Editorial Dossat, 2 vol., Madrid, 1987.] Carreras Candi, F. 1916. Geografia General de Catalunya. La ciutat de Barcelona. Barcelona: Establiment editorial d’Albert Martin. Chueca, F. 1968. Breve historia del urbanismo. Madrid: Alianza Editorial. Dorion, H. 1998. La toponymie, complice involontaire de la politique? In Scope, Perspectives and Methods of Onomastics. Proceedings of the XIXth International Congress of Onomastic Sciences (Aberdeen, August 4-11, 1996): vol. I, W.F.H. Nicolaisen (ed.), 5-19. Aberdeen. Michonneau, S. 2002. Barcelona: memòria i identitat. Monuments, commemoracions i mites. Vic: Eumo Editorial-Universitat de Vic. Palomas, J. 2009. Víctor Balaguer i la toponímia identitària: la formació del primer nomenclàtor de l’Eixample de Barcelona. In Les identitats a la Catalunya contemporània, J. Casassas (coord.), 293-316. Cabrera de Mar: Galerada. Pirenne, H. 1972. Las ciudades en la Edad Media. Madrid: Alianza Editorial. Portavella, J. 2010. Diccionari nomenclàtor de les vies públiques de Barcelona. Barcelona: Ajuntament de Barcelona. Online version: http://www.bcn.es/nomenclator/catala/content.htm (accessed October 2012). Serratosa, A. 2006. Més enllà de l’urbanisme. Barcelona: Publicacions de l’Abadia de Montserrat. TCC = Cerdà, I. 1991 (1859). Teoría de la construcción de las ciudades aplicada al proyecto de reforma y ensanche de Barcelona. Madrid: Instituto Nacional de la Administración Pública-Ajuntament de Barcelona.

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Tort, J., and V. Paül. 2005. La calle como espacio de relación. Consideraciones a propósito de una de las claves esenciales del pensamiento de Ildefonso Cerdà. In Espacios públicos / espacios privados. Actas del XIX Congreso de Geógrafos Españoles. Santander: Universidad de Cantabria-Asociación de Geógrafos Españoles. [Publication on CD].

Acknowledgements Sincere thanks are due to Iain Kenneth Robinson for his linguistic assistance in the text. This chapter has been prepared as part of the Research Project CSO2009-1225-C05-03 and carried out within the research group GRAM, supported by the government of the Generalitat de Catalunya (2009- SGR1515).

PART III: NAMES OF PUBLIC, ECONOMIC, CULTURAL, RELIGIOUS AND SPORTS INSTITUTIONS

SECTION ONE: NAMES OF BUSINESS ESTABLISHMENTS

FROM SOLAR VALLEY TO SHADOW MOUNTAIN: IDENTITY CONSTRUCTION IN LOCATION-BASED COMPANY NAMES ANGELIKA BERGIEN Introduction In January 2012 the American Name Society announced their pick for the 2011 Trade Name of the Year—Siri. Siri is the Apple 4S phone’s personal assistant application. The press release from ANS says that Siri is a modified name for “SRI International, the company that developed it, to create a feminine-sounding name which fits the technology’s robotic female voice and leads many users to think of Siri as if it were a real woman talking to them” (Prange 2012). SRI was founded as Stanford Research Institute, a nonprofit research institute, which is headquartered in Menlo Park, California. However, few agree on exactly where the name Siri comes from and what it means. Explanations for Siri circulating the Internet include ‘Scandinavian girl’s name,’ ‘Swahili name for a girl’ or ‘name of Steve Job’s favourite vegetable.’ The above example illustrates that commercial names in general and company names in particular play a pivotal role in modern economies and that they greatly contribute to the assets of their owners. The name SRI International is interesting from another perspective too: it contains two elements—Stanford and International—which denote the geographical location of economic activity. By linking the name to a particular region, a company’s origin, traditions, scope of business and personal attachment to a certain place are expressed. The present chapter aims at a more systematic description of locationbased company names and their potential for identity construction. Possible explanations will be offered and discussed with respect to factors such as economic motivation, historical background, local culture and global competition. The data are all attested examples collected from the Internet, unless otherwise stated. Searches were performed using Google as the search engine. The focus will be on qualitative rather than quantitative results.

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Naming a company: Past and present Company names form a relatively young category of names. Their origin in Europe can be traced back to the eighteenth and in particular nineteenth century, when economic liberalism and free competition began to form the basis of industry and commerce (cf. Sjöblom 2005: 264). Although the existence of company names frequently enters our awareness, little research has been undertaken on the structure and function of these names. Like proper names in general, company names have two main functions: they reflect identity and distinctiveness. Whereas identity defines who someone really is, distinctiveness mainly refers to how someone or something differs from others. In this way, we can say that names are the “primary text of personal identity” (Joseph 2004: 12) and, in the case of company names, of corporate identity. According to Mendonça et al. (2004: 1385), company names “are an outcome of establishing recognisable designations and symbols for goods and services, as well as firms’ identities.” This is especially important from a legal point of view. Only distinctive names can be registered and will enjoy special legal protection. The legal aspect has been emphasised by Koß (1996, 2002), Kremer and Krook (1998), Latour (1996) and others, and will not be discussed here. In addition to their identifying function these names are instrumental in differentiating, protecting and promoting goods and services in the marketplace. Finally, the name as part of corporate mission guarantees that the identity of the company is recognised in such a way that it is accepted in its social and economic environment. Up to the middle of the twentieth century the history of many companies was inseparable from the history of a particular time and place. For example, as Scollon and Scollon (2001) illustrate, the history of American automobile corporations like the Ford Motor Company is closely linked to the interwar period (between World War I and World War II) and the history of European immigration to the Midwest. In the decades which have passed since that time two major historical developments had the effect of major restructuring of these corporations. On the one hand, the companies have developed into multinational corporations which can no longer be identified with the regional history of any particular country, and on the other, employees of these companies no longer have the long personal parallel attachment to these companies. […] The corporate culture of the Ford company was once very much the same as the cultural history of downriver Detroit. Now the corporate culture is carefully crafted by specialists in personnel (Scollon and Scollon 2001: 188).

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It can thus be concluded that the smaller and more local a company, the more it will share the characteristics of its time and place. Larger companies will often adapt rather artificial characteristics to provide some sense of history and culture in the absence of a more naturally occurring local history or culture. This implies that for both smaller (more local) and larger (multinational) companies cultural and regional characteristics are important, but, as Sjöblom (2007) and Boerrigter (2007) observe, they are differently motivated and differently expressed in the names of these companies. The reasons for the increasing prominence of these characteristics are manifold and include the need to harmonise marketing and branding against an undifferentiated global product offering. In other words, they are used “to create an attribute of singularity at a time when everything tends to be a replica” (Solly 2002: 217). With regard to the example discussed above, the company name Ford, based on the name of the founder, reflects all the cultural, historical or regional connotations so far discussed and signals prestige and power. According to De Michelis (2008: 204), this has an enormous potential for engaging customers’ imagination and loyalty: “The idea of ‘place’ […] carries emotional connotations also inherent in the concept of ‘brand.’” It should, however, be noted that long-established names like Ford would hardly stand a chance if the companies were looking for an international name nowadays. Studies (for example, by Kremer and Krook 1998 or Bergien 2008) have shown that because of their lexical opaqueness personal names rank lowest in consumer acceptance. Against this background, it is not surprising that as a response to consumer research, Ford has recently made an interesting move in de-emphasising its brand name and logo in a new corporate advertising campaign (cf. Naughton 2012). The company points out that they are not creating a new reality for the company, but instead are focusing on quality, styling, technology and fuel economy.

Location, place and identity The geographical location of a company is first of all the place where it is situated and where economic activity is concentrated. The term location implies a higher degree of certainty than place, which often has an ambiguous boundary and relies more on social attributes of place identity. As Fougère (2008: 196) puts it, “places have meaning and are characterised by the beliefs of man, being at once physical and historical, social and cultural.” There is thus a strong connection between place and identity: places provide a sense of belonging, and belonging is an

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important feature of identity construction as both a collective and individual process (Fougère 2008: 191). The location of a business is a crucial decision because this will have an important impact on profits. There are certain push and pull factors drawing firms towards certain locations and away from others. Push factors include rising competition in an area, rising costs, poor communications systems, falling demands. Pull factors are, for example, government incentives, low labour costs, good communication systems, developing markets. Factors influencing the location of a company have changed over time (cf. The Times 100 Business Studies by Example 19952012). Globalisation and the development of the Internet since the mid1990s have meant that many businesses are less tied to centres of population. Confronted with an increasingly competitive market many companies seek strategies to distinguish their products and realise added value. An important strategy to achieve this goal is no doubt the development of an appropriate name. Up to the 1970s, when relatively few companies were competing, firms were likely to go for straightforward, descriptive names or names of the owner/founder of the business. Today, however, start-ups are under pressure to think up something that will not only pass trademark rules but also make a catchy global Internet address, distinguish the firm from rivals in an intensely competitive sector, and not be offensive in foreign languages. To avoid a negative image or enhance a positive one, companies frequently include locations in their names which connote the companies’ origins, traditions and scope of business or personal attachment to a certain place in a more direct way. By using a certain place-of-origin indication companies are able to exploit the associations consumers have with a particular area and provide the product with an image. Locations in company names first of all tell consumers that a product is produced in a certain place or associated with physical features like rivers, as, for example, Bayerische in Bayerische Motorenwerke (BMW, ‘Bavarian Motor Works’) or Elbe in Elbe Flugzeugwerke (‘Elbe Aircraft Works’) indicate. But to describe locational expressions as mere indicators of location would be a very narrow view. The place of origin as the product’s source may have a “psychological and emotional impact […] on consumer behaviour” (De Michelis 2008: 204). And, as Keller (1998: 277) points out, Besides the company that makes the product, the country or geographical location from which it is seen as coming from may also become linked to the brand and generate secondary associations. Many countries have

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From Solar Valley to Shadow Mountain become known for expertise in certain product categories or for conveying a particular type of image.

Against this background, locations form part of a broad cultural context, where culture is undoubtedly much more than just what the individual or group wears, eats, drinks, listens to or smokes in certain situations. Culture is the intangible symbols, rules and values that people use to define themselves, and in this way culture “creates a connection between stories, landscapes, scenarios, historical events, national symbols and national rituals which represent shared experiences and concerns” (Wodak et al. 1999: 24). Place and culture have therefore become important attributes of the identities and images of companies. The company name makes people aware of the place and then provides desirable associations, which can best be described as “territories of meaning” (Holt-Jensen 1999: 224). A powerful indication of the close relationship between place, culture and identity is to be found in “cultural markers” (Riley 2007: 41-43), where culture is directly encoded or lexicalised in place names. As cultural markers these place names refer to a “sense of place” rather than to a physical place. According to Riley, a case in point would be the way in which French towns are associated with a very varied but highly specific set of historical or gastronomic references (e.g., Bordeaux: wine, Dijon: mustard). The generic parts indicating the nature of the product or business are frequently deleted in communication and the locational elements take over the inherent characteristics of the business. If such a locational element is used as the common designation of a product or business, rather than an indication of the place of origin, then the name no longer functions as a geographical indication. For example, “cologne” now denotes a certain kind of perfumed toilet water, regardless of whether or not it was produced in the region of Cologne.

Formation patterns Locations as parts of company names typically occur as full place names (e.g., Hoechst from a district in Frankfurt/Main, Nokia from a Finnish city), as elements of blends (e.g., Finnair, from ‘Finland’ and ‘air’; Musco Lightning, from the company’s original location of Muscatine County, Iowa) or as (parts of) acronyms, which, in a wider definition, include both ‘alphabetisms’ pronounced as a sequence of individual letters (BMW, Bayerische Motorenwerke, ‘Bavarian Motor Works’) and items pronounced like normal words (COLT, City of London Telecom). There are

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also clippings, for example the element Finn from ‘Finland,’ as an identifying part in Finnair. Normally, the reductions in the clipped form are made with the proviso that the full form can be recovered any time. This is not the case in the name Cisco which was derived from the city name San Francisco (cf. Cisco Systems Inc.). Here distinctiveness of the company name is achieved by using a short form of the place name that is officially not used. As a consequence the name is less transparent than, for example, locations with full place names. Locations as parts of acronyms are usually opaque, but as a result of extensive use, the full form of NY in DKNY (Dona Karan New York) is easily recoverable. In contrast to the expressions above, locations may also consist of descriptive expressions that have a direct lexical meaning, as, for example, Solar Valley and Shadow Mountain. They are artificially constructed and refer to unspecific geographical locations. This provides a number of problems with regard to distinctiveness. In Bergien (2010) the 2007 list of the top 100 companies, ranked by revenues, in Mitteldeutschland (‘Central Germany,’ a name frequently used for the three federal states: Saxony, Thuringia and Saxony-Anhalt) and Saxony-Anhalt were analysed and then compared to the top 100 companies in Niedersachsen (‘Lower Germany’) for the same year. Names with general elements such as Deutschland in Dow Gruppe Deutschland were not considered in the quantitative and qualitative analyses. Table 1 shows that the use of locations is especially frequent in the eastern part of Germany. Although this sample survey does not claim statistical reliability, the material reveals some interesting and partly expected findings. In Central Germany as well as in Saxony-Anhalt about 50% of the top 100 company names contain regional elements, whereas in Lower Saxony only 17% of the listed names are marked that way. The possible reasons for these differences are manifold and not easy to pinpoint. In addition to what has been said about the close link between place, culture and (corporate) identity, new companies in eastern Germany may need to become distinctive from already existing (German) companies in the same sector or as subsidiaries of larger and more important companies (e. g., Volkswagen Sachsen). In addition, longer established companies may simply be driven by a desire to escape the GDR past, as in the case of the former company VEB (Volkseigener Betrieb, ‘State-owned Company’) Agrochemie (‘Agricultural Chemistry’), which was transformed into SKW Stickstoffwerke (‘Nitrogen Works’) Piesteritz GmbH in 1990.

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Table 1. Locational elements in the top 100 company names for 2007 (Bergien 2010: 79) Region/ Bundesland Central Germany

Locat. elements (total) 49

Premodifier

Postmodifier

Examples

13

36

SaxonyAnhalt

51

18

33

Lower Saxony (Niedersachsen)

17

8

9

Jenoptik (‘Optics’) Elbe Flugzeugwerke Erdgas (‘Natural Gas’) Südsachsen Ilsenburger Grobblech (‘Heavy Plate’) Zellstoff (‘Pulp Processing’) Stendal MIFA Mitteldeutsche Fahrradwerke (‘Bicycle Manufacturing’) Salzgitter (from the town ‘Salzgitter’) Stadtwerke (‘Public Utility Company’) Hannover Uelzena (from the town ‘Uelzen’)

It is interesting to observe that in the eastern top 100 lists transparent names seem to dominate. Those with a location frequently contain generic elements that describe the nature of the product or service. As a consequence, geographical locations become the major differentiating factors. From a syntactic point of view it is interesting to observe that in the eastern lists far more regional elements occur in end position, compared to Lower Saxony, where the difference is not so striking (cf. Table 1). The regional element as premodifier in the sequence has a scene-setting and categorising effect, and this may be the reason why the pattern, although less explicit, has successfully made inroads into company names. Premodification by locational elements thus relies heavily on shared regional and cultural knowledge, and this type of modification therefore provides the necessary prerequisites for the development of cultural markers, such as Jena in Jenoptik, where Jena represents a long and successful tradition in the production of optical instruments, or Salzgitter AG, where Salzgitter is inextricably linked with iron and steel manufacturing. In contrast to this, locations as postmodifiers (e.g., Erdgas Südsachsen) do not have such a scene-setting effect. Here, the postpositive location

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modifies the preceding generic element by naming the geographical origin of the company.

Pragmatic functions The primary function of locations in company names is to identify the place where the company is currently situated or its place of origin. If the location stands for the whole company (e.g., Hoechst, Nokia, Cisco), then the metonymic pattern PLACE (OF ORIGIN) FOR COMPANY develops. This location metonymy seems to prove a productive pattern in the formation of company names. It is interesting to note that in times of globalisation and changes in the production processes the place of current economic activity becomes less important, while the place-of-origin indication is increasingly used. By using such an indication, companies are able to exploit the associations consumers have with a particular area and provide their products or services with an image, i.e., a sense of place or belonging. A recent example is the renaming of Sara Lee North American Retail and Foodservice to Hillshire Brands Co. Hillshire Farm was established in Wisconsin in 1934 by Friedrich Bernegger. The company says his entrepreneurial spirit lives on in the company to this day. The name Hillshire stands for “quality, integrity and superior taste,” according to Sara Lee (cf. Schuyler 2012). In addition, the traditional name probably evokes associations like “green environment,” “healthy animals” or “traditional farming.” All this explains the need to distinguish between a primary and a secondary (connotative) function that is product- or service-related as the two pragmatic functions of locations in company name. The secondary function frequently dominates the primary function of a location-based company name. What counts in names like BMW is the connotative meaning of Bayerische, which signals prestige, tradition, speed or power. For a new company the most important aim is to help consumers learn the secondary function via the primary function. Especially if the primary function is opaque, companies “must launch a massive campaign to introduce and anchor the name in the mind of the consumer” (Napoles 1988, quoted in Falkner 1999: 322). But this process takes time— something many companies no longer have in this age of tough global competition. Only if this secondary or connotative function has been learned, can the primary function be negligible. This is, for example, the case when no longer existing place names are used, such as Garley-Bräu for a brewery in Gardelegen, a small town in the region of Magdeburg,

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where the first element Garley /'ga:rlai/ can be traced back to Gardelegen’s medieval name Garly, which refers to the place of origin of the brewery that was founded in the fourteenth century. Of equal interest are cases where the location is only vaguely related to the company’s local origin and activities. Fuji, for example, is named after Mount Fuji, the highest mountain in Japan, and signals national identity of the company. Similarly, the company Lancôme is named after a castle (Le Chateau de Lancôme) which the founder of the company explored while vacationing in the French countryside (cf. Katemopoulos 1999-2012). The name implies that just as Lancôme is a French place, so the business is part of French culture. However, from a synchronic point of view, both Fuji and Lancôme do no longer have the function of identifying locations. A similar example is provided by Adobe Systems from the Adobe creek that ran behind the house of co-founder John Warnock (cf. Adobe fast facts 2010). A more problematic case is the location Mitteldeutschland and its derivational forms Mitteldeutsch (e/er/es), which is among the most frequently used locational expressions in the top 100 lists for eastern Germany (cf. Bergien 2010). Mitteldeutschland is not the exact centre of Germany, but the name mainly refers to the Central German economic region around the cities of Halle and Leipzig, which connects the three federal states Saxony, Saxony-Anhalt and Thuringia. After German reunification activists in the economy and in administration thought that this region would profit by claiming to have its own economic identity. In the first years after reunification this attempt was met with strong opposition from the population (cf. Kirchgeorg and Kreller 2000), since people did neither know what exactly the name referred to nor could they identify with the cultural, social and emotional connotations it was meant to represent. But these cultural, social or emotional values are important to maintain a certain “we-feeling,” which is necessary for the unity of the citizens. To enhance the image of the region, structurally influential companies like The Dow Chemical Company present Central Germany as an attractive cultural region on their homepages and thus help to develop a sense of place. However, in spite of all problems related to the regional element Mitteldeutschland, companies seem to ignore the vague image of the name and continue to identify with and use it. Consequently, the name is gaining in importance and consumers do no longer seem to bother about it. One of the latest economic developments is the company Solarvalley Mitteldeutschland, which carries an umbrella name for the activities of companies and research centres in the photovoltaic market. The

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inflationary use of Mitteldeutschland may lead to another, rather unexpected problem. As a matter of fact, routinisation and ritualisation of certain naming practices may serve as driving forces of change, because the need for distinctiveness seems to prevent a long-term survival of frequently used and thus worn down patterns. Striving for distinctiveness may even lead to the complete disappearance of a particular form, which then paves the way for new and more expressive naming patterns. This consideration may, for example, have affected the use of artificially constructed locations in Solarvalley Mitteldeutschland, where Solarvalley is no doubt the distinctive part and Mitteldeutschland a mere label for the (rather vague) scope of business. A different case of locational vagueness can be found in examples with the location Shadow Mountain. This expression is used in connection with different businesses and different places. Searches using Google have provided examples which show that the expression Shadow Mountain is used to name, among others, a company for unique home products, a publisher of children’s fantasy, a winery and a golf course. Even if the respective company is situated in the shadow of a mountain or near a mountain called Shadow Mountain, the descriptive locational element does not allow for unique reference to a specific “physical” place or place of origin. There are obviously locations in company names which never had the primary function of identifying a physical place or of reflecting at least an idea of place with regard to economic activity or origin. According to its founder, Pierre Omidyar, eBay from ‘Echo Bay’ never referred to the town in Nevada, “it just sounded cool” (Cohen 2002). Names like Amazon.com, after the world’s most voluminous river, were from the beginning intended as metaphorically used names. The founder of Amazon, Jeff Bezos, saw the potential for a larger volume of sales in an online (as opposed to a bricks and mortar) bookstore (cf. The Origin of Company Names). This implies that only a few specific aspects of our encyclopaedic knowledge of the name Amazon are being foregrounded; other elements of knowledge about it, e.g., exact geographical location, starting sources, tributaries and colour (cf. Rosenberg 2009) are totally hidden or ignored. In the first stage of the comprehension process a paragon is activated, which metonymically stands for a certain category that cannot or should not be directly named (Lakoff 1987: 87-88). In the example under discussion the name Amazon stands for the category LARGE RIVER. This knowledge serves as a frame for the interpretation of the company name. The next stage in comprehension is metaphorical mapping. Metaphorical mapping, generally speaking, implies that one “meaning” or “thing” is looked upon in terms of another

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“meaning” or “thing.” So the river named Amazon serves as a SOURCE for the TARGET “online bookstore company.” In other words, the economic activity of the company is understood in terms of a river that carries more water than any other river in the world. In addition to its metaphorical meaning, it is important to note that the name begins with “A” so that it would appear early in alphabetical order. Metaphorically used locations in company names no doubt involve the most creative exploitation of place names.

Concluding remarks Humans obviously have a strong need for distinctive yet economical naming. Nowhere can this be seen more clearly than in the forms and functions of location-based company names. I have tried to show that the linguistic design of location-based names is based on a complex of different criteria, amongst which the reflection of the link between place, culture and corporate identity seems to be of increasing prominence. What Langacker (1977, quoted in Nänny and Fischer 1999: xix) nicely expressed in his metaphor of language as a “compacting machine” does in particular apply to the creation and use of commercial names: It would not be entirely inappropriate to regard languages … as gigantic expression-compacting machines. They require as input a continuous flow of creatively produced expressions formed by lexical innovation, by lexically and grammatically regular periphrasis, and by the figurative use of lexical and periphrastic locutions. The machine does whatever it can to wear down the expressions fed into it. It fades metaphors by standardizing them and using them over and over again. […] It chips away at the boundaries between elements and crushes them together into smaller units. The machine has a voracious appetite. Only the assiduous efforts of speakers—who salvage what they can from its output and recycle it by using their creative energies to fashion a steady flow of new expressions to feed back in—keep the whole thing going.

References Adobe fast facts. 2010. http://www.adobe.com/aboutadobe/pressroom/pdfs/ fastfacts.pdf (accessed August 10, 2012). Bergien, A. 2008. English Elements in Company Names: Global and Regional Considerations. In Anglicisms in Europe: Linguistic Diversity

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in a Global Context, R. Fischer and H. Pulaczewska (eds.), 183-207, Cambridge: Cambridge Scholars Press. —. 2010. Zur Konstitution von Regionalität in den Namen mitteldeutscher Unternehmen. Namenkundliche Informationen 98: 71-85. Boerrigter, R. 2007. Identity reflecting business names. In Proceedings of the 21st International Congress of Onomastic Sciences Uppsala 19-24 August 2002: Vol. 3, E. Brylla and M. Wahlberg (eds.), 53-61. Uppsala: Språk-och folkminnesinstitutet. Cisco Systems Inc. http://www.networking4all.com/en/support/ssl+ certificates/manuals/cisco/ (accessed August 20, 2012). Cohen, A. 2002. The perfect story: Inside eBay. http://www.businessknowhow.com/manage/perfectstore.htm (accessed August 10, 2012). De Michelis, L. 2008. BritainTM and “corporate” national identity. In Handbook of Communication in the Public Sphere, R. Wodak and V. Koller (eds.), 203-222. Berlin, New York: de Gruyter. [= Handbooks of Applied Linguistics Vol. 4]. Falkner, W. 1999. Pampers, Sunkist, Whiskas, Swirl: semantic motivation in English trade names used in Germany. In Words, lexemes, concepts—approaches to the lexicon: studies in honour of Leonhard Lipka, W. Falkner and H.-J. Schmid, (eds.), 319-330. Tübingen: Narr. Fischer, O., and M. Nänny. 1999. Introduction: Iconicity as a creative force in language use. In Form Miming Meaning: Iconicity in Language and Literature, M. Nänny and O. Fischer (eds.), xv-xxxvi. Amsterdam and Philadelphia: Benjamins. Fougère, M. 2008. Adaptation and Identity. In Culturally Speaking (2nd edition), H. Spencer-Oatey (ed.), 187-203. London: Continuum. Holt-Jensen, A. 1999. Geography: History and Concepts: A Student's Guide 3rd edition. London: Sage. Joseph, J.E. 2004. Language and Identity. Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan. Katemopoulos, M. 1999-2012. The history of Lancôme Cosmetics. http://www.ehow.com/about_5048328_history-lancomecosmetics.html (accessed August 10, 2012). Keller, K. L. 1998. Strategic Brand Management. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall. Kirchgeorg, M., and P. Kreller. 2000. Etablierung von Marken im Regionenmarketing²eine vergleichende Analyse der Regionennamen “Mitteldeutschland” und “Ruhrgebiet” auf der Grundlage einer repräsentativen Studie. Leipzig: Chair of Marketing Management. [HHL Working Paper no. 38].

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Koß, G. 1996. Warennamen-, Firmennamenrecht. In Namenforschung— Name studies—Les noms propres. Ein internationales Handbuch zur Onomastik: Vol. 2, E. Eichler, G. Hilty, H. Löffler and L. Zgusta (eds.), 1795-1802. Berlin, New York: de Gruyter. [= Handbücher zur Sprachund Kommunikationswissenschaft Bd. 11.2]. —. 2002. Namenforschung. Eine Einführung in die Onomastik 3rd edition. Tübingen: Niemeyer. Kremer, L., and S. Krook. 1998. Sind Namen “Schall und Rauch”? Zur Werbewirkung von Unternehmensnamen. In Proceedings of the 11th European Symposium on LSP Copenhagen August 1997: Vol. 2, L. Lundquist, H. Picht, and J. Qvistgaard (eds.), 572-581. Copenhagen: Copenhagen Business School. Lakoff, G. 1987. Women, )ire, and 'angerous 7hings. What &ategories 5eveal about the 0ind. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Latour, S. 1996. Namen machen Marken. Frankfurt a. M.: Campus Verlag. Mendonça, S., T. S. Pereira and M. M. Godinho. 2004. Trademarks as an indicator of innovation and industrial change. Research Policy 33: 1385-1404. Naughton, K. 2012. Ford leaves logo out of new ads to overcome negatives. http://www.bloomberg.com/news/2012-05-15/ford-leaveslogo-out-of-new-ads-to-overcome-negatives.html (accessed July 27, 2012). Origin of Company Names. http://cojoweb.com/ref-origin_of_company_ names.html (accessed August 10, 2012). Prange, D. 2012. Siri—Did you know you were the Product Name of the Year? http://www.namedevelopment.com/blog/archives/2012/01/siri_ did_you_kn.html (accessed February 28, 2012). Riley, P. 2007. Language, Culture and Identity. An Ethnolinguistic Perspective. London: Continuum. Rosenberg, M. 2009. Amazon River. http://geography.about.com/od/ specificplacesofinterest/a/amazonriver8.htm (accessed August 10: 2012). Schuyler, D. 2012. Sara Lee to name North American Business Hillshire Brands. The Business Journal, June 5, 2012. http://www.bizjournals.com/milwaukee/news/2012/06/05/sara-lee-toname-north-american.html (accessed July 26, 2012). Scollon, R., and S. W. Scollon. 2001. Intercultural Communication. A Discourse approach 2nd edition. Oxford: Blackwell. Sjöblom, P. 2005. The problem of meaning and function related to company names. In Proceedings of the 21st International Congress of

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NAMES OF COMPANIES IN POLAND BARBARA CZOPEK-KOPCIUCH Introduction Nowadays, company names are encountered everywhere. It is sometimes difficult to tell them apart from names of stores, even though they create different terminological patterns. Some companies have their own stores and, in such cases, the name of a company also functions as the name of a store, e.g., ECCO, Polski Len (‘Polish Flax’). In Polish onomastic tradition, the term “company name” is used, even though the term firmonim appears more and more often, following the Czech model. The list of terms prepared by the Terminology Group of ICOS (http://www.icosweb.net/index.php/terminology.html) features the following items: ergonym—sometimes used for the name of an institution or a commercial firm; and brand name—the proper name of a brand, e.g., Toyota. It is clear that, as of now, a sufficiently precise term for names that are of interest to us is missing; therefore, in this chapter, the term “company name” is going to be used. “Companies” are understood—in a greatly simplified way—as production plants, e.g., construction, clothing, food, trade and service companies, such as tourist agencies, installation companies, car repair shops, as well as dentists’ offices and private dentistry clinics, medical clinics, law firms, and so on. A company is often, at the same time, a trade and service enterprise, or a production and trade enterprise. A characteristic feature of companies—in contrast to stores—is the fact that they do not have display windows. They are located in large buildings, frequently used by many other institutions, or outside city centres and in city outskirts. Naturally, they have their offices, telephones and modern equipment. They also have names that are necessary for registration and often their own logos. They are advertised in telephone books (e.g., Panorama Firm), in press, on signboards at entrances to their headquarters, on the Internet, and on advertising boards placed at exit roads of large cities. They are present in the urban landscapes through advertising slogans and attract our attention by means of typography, logos and colourful neon signs.

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Status of research on company names in Polish onomastics Descriptions and analyses of company names appeared in Polish onomastic literature later than works on the names of stores. This was probably due to the fact that initially (after 1990) they were not so conspicuous and did not arouse ardent opposition and polemics. Another reason may be that there were fewer companies than stores. Numerous studies on such onyms were conducted by Rzetelska-Feleszko (1998, 1999, 2000, 2000a, 2003 and 2006), and subsequently by Gaákowski (2008) and Siwiec (2011). Materials for analysing company names were usually taken from lists, registers or press advertisements. In such lists, it is sometimes difficult to distinguish names of stores from company names. Therefore, researchers used the industry criterion. Businesses dealing with construction materials, installations, repairs, moving, computer services or production plants were deemed to be companies. Perfumeries, boutiques, confectioneries and bookstores were considered as stores. This criterion may be misleading. What is more, among names of companies and names of stores, there might be names that do not differ, i.e., informative names, and those created from owners’ first and family names. The names of companies delineate a large group of names, containing units or even entire groups of onomastic units with varied linguistic values that at first sight may seem chaotic. It may be assumed that there are no uniform derivational processes with respect to the creation of names in such a subcategory and that they do not form a system, but reveal completely accidental and arbitrary manners of creating names of companies. In reality, this impression is false. The work of Rzetelska-Feleszko (2000a: 207-214) shows, at the initial stage, that there are certain basic—though varied—lexical and derivational categories of such names. It turns out that the most important group among company names are compound formations.

Basic features of company names This category captured the attention of many researchers (cf. the above-mentioned works and numerous articles listed in Przybytek and Rymut 2001) that discussed onomastic corpora from many Polish cities; this has allowed for the formulation of the basic features of this group of names. A detailed analysis of such linguistic forms, in view of determining their motivation and morphological structure, poses a problem. Among these onyms, it is possible to discriminate between various types of acronyms and compounds, mainly derived from decomposed stems. One

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can also approach these names in terms of making a distinction between acronyms—treated as compound words—and other types of compounds. In this case, the constituent elements of an acronym are exclusively truncated morphemes, whereas words where at least one of the components is a morpheme are not acronyms, but compounds derived from decomposed stems. Therefore, it would be necessary to consider a collection of company names as a collection of forms composed in various manners, with the use of new complex structures, “differing from Polish (and Slavic) onomastic traditions” (Rzetelska-Feleszko 2000a: 207-214). Rzetelska-Feleszko (2006: 158-168) and later Siwiec (2011: 153-171) list several types of company names: (1) blends; (2) descriptive formulas; (3) appellative-derived names; (4) family names functioning as company names; (5) first names functioning as company names; (6) toponyms functioning as company names and names derived from toponyms; (7) names in the form of capital letters.

Blends Blends are the most frequent and most characteristic forms among company names, e.g., Agrex, Ekoland, Artbud and Sanpol. These names are built of two, sometimes three, parts joined without a hyphen. These parts are “truncated” fragments of full words. Usually, it is a single initial syllable creating a pseudo-morpheme. Most frequently, blends are formed from fragments of words of foreign origin or foreign words, such as eko-, san-, -tex, inter- or euro-. On account of their meaning, blends can be divided into two basic types: (a) Blends whose parts make semantic references to words from which they were truncated, e.g., Ekodom, Ekoland, Ekotur, Ekomed (references to “ecology, ecological”); Polmot, Polam, Poldrob (references to “Poland, Polish”); Budgrim, Budinstal, Budmar (references to “build, building”); Interlab, Intergumi, Intergeo (references to “international”); Euroland, Eurocar, Euroapteka (references to “Europe, European”). It is possible to list many groups of this type and the number of examples in each of them is practically unlimited. As a rule, blends are motivated by internationalisms; for example, the parts Eko-, Geo-, Aero-, Euro-, Lux-, Neo-, Sport-, Ex- and Imp-. However, they may make references to native words, e.g., Bud-, Rol- (agriculture) and Dach-. Quite often, they refer to English words and less frequently to French or German ones, e.g., Man- (Manbok, Mandi, Manart), Com(Compar, Complot, Comptext) and Sim- (Simtel, Simpex, Simed).

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The same parts may occur as first and second elements of names, e.g., Poleko, Ekolux and, in combination with Polish parts, in the second place, e.g., Ekodach, Remost, Roldrzew. There are also blends with English parts having the second position, e.g., Polteam, Roltour, Polsnack and Polsoft, and blends where both parts are internationalisms, e.g., Ratex, Reproks and Solarex. With respect to form, blends may be “blended” words, e.g., Specsat or Roldrzew, or compound words whose parts are linked with an affix, e.g., Budopol, Sanodent and Dentoma, compound words with a hyphen, e.g., San-El, Sawo-Met and Solid-Bud, or two (or more) unconnected parts which, however, create a single name, e.g., Man Star, Scan Profil and Signa Plus. (b) Asemantic blends whose parts do not evoke associations with wellknown common or foreign words. Similarly to the previous group, in this case we are also dealing with long lists of examples with identical first parts, e.g., Jarbet, Jarbetal, Jarbex, Jarbo, Jarbud, Jarchem, Jarex, Jarmar. The first part may be a reference to the name Jarosáaw or Jarek (possibly the owner or a partner of the company). The second parts tend to be semantic and may signal the specialisation of the company, e.g., -bet (concrete), -chem (chemistry) and -bud (to build). They may also be completely unclear, e.g., -bo or -bex. This type of names—with an asemantic second part—is a further step towards complete asemantisation due to the lack of correspondence with known words. The parts are simply connected following existing patterns. One of the popular models of company names relies on second parts like -ex, -land and -co, which are connected with the first parts of the names without any underlying semantic motivation. Many names result from the association of truncated first names or family names, e.g., Jarmar, also Jar-Mar. Their genesis is known solely to the company owners; to other people, it is incomprehensible. It can only be guessed that first names or family names were used as bases of company name such as Kamis, Koel, Komi, Lilam, Ko-Go and Pewe-Mar. There are blends that are even more complex and that consist of the connection of initial letters with the beginning of a family name (e.g., AJPOZ); such instances may be deciphered solely after seeking clarification from owners. A question arises—why did blends become so popular among company names? Studies (Rzetelska-Feleszko 2006: 162) show that they make up over a half of all the names in this subcategory. The manner of their construction is foreign to Polish (and Western Slavic) morphological structures, where suffixes modify the meaning of the base, which is very

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clear in Polish (and Slavic) toponyms. With respect to the discussed names, we are not dealing with suffixations but with the connection of two—seldom more—usually first syllables, or only the first syllable, e.g., Medlab/Labmed, Budopol/Polbud, Remost. Such names are equally popular in the Czech Republic and in Slovakia. However, they are not so frequent in Western Europe. At the same time, in company names in the area of the former Soviet Union and present-day Russia, entire series of names like Gazprom, Gaztelkom, Jukos and so on are present. They refer to countless common Russian words, e.g., kolkhoz, gulag and chlebtorg. To a great extent, they consist of combined first syllables of multi-word designations (descriptions), e.g., gulag = glavnoye upravleniye ispravityelno-trudovykh lagerey. They started to proliferate after 1917 as a characteristic trait of the post-revolutionary Russian language. They were most popular in the names of political parties, youth and military groups, local and central administration, industry, agriculture, in party terminology, technical and scientific language and, in particular, in the language of propaganda. Taking into account the political supremacy of the Soviet Union over the countries of the so-called Socialist bloc after 1945, it is not surprising that due to Russian influences, Polish political and economic authorities created company names like Budimpex, Elektrim, Mostostal, Polmozbyt, Hortex, Rafaco and Pagart (many of which still exist). As for companies created after 1990, owners followed extant patterns (which had been solidified for decades), not being aware of their structural strangeness. The slightly unclear meaning of many blends turned out to be convenient for company owners. With the contemporary instability of economy and the vacillating demand for certain goods and amendments in legal provisions, the owner could easily change the profile of a company without changing its name. Besides, when choosing a blend for a company name, the owner is also guided by its specific advantages, e.g., the shortness of the name, the possibility of signalling a specific profile of the company, and the enigmatic nature of a name.

Descriptive formulas They consist of several common words, sometimes abbreviated to one word, giving information about the company’s operation, e.g., Warsztat mechaniki pojazdowej (car repair shop), Biuro InformatycznoWdroĪeniowe “Koncept” (“Concept” Information and Implementation Office), PKP Informatyka (PKP Information Technology), Centralny OĞrodek Informatyki Górnictwa (Centre for Information Technologies in Mining Industry). Sometimes, the parts of such designations are owners’

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family names or actual names of companies. Names of this kind combine the properties of proper and appellative name forms and are motivated by the general meaning of the appellative base. Such names may function as advertisements that evaluate the services-providing firm (e.g., IT.expert).

Names derived from appellatives The descriptive formulas referred to above are related to names with appellative bases. Names derived from appellatives do not delineate a uniform group. They may consist of one word or phrase and derive from native words and foreign expressions. Sometimes, they have the form of (nowadays fashionable) internet addresses, e.g., Opony.pl, Home.pl. The most important aspect in the creation of such names is the need to provide information about the field of activity of a company, alongside an element of advertisement, e.g., Top Auto.

Family names functioning as company names A proof of the increasing role of an entrepreneur’s name as an element of identification and advertisement for a company are company names in which the owner’s family name is used for the company. Surnames are frequently preceded by a part containing information about the industry, e.g., Bracia Ostromeccy; Auto-Serwis Baranowscy; KrzemiĔski.WnĊtrza.

First names functioning as company names First names in full or abbreviated forms rarely appear as company names. They are often reinforced by information about the specific nature of a company, e.g., Konrad Service and Anna.Táumaczenia. Such constructions tend to be characteristic of names of stores and restaurants.

Toponyms functioning as names of companies and names derived from toponyms Toponyms may function independently in company names, but they are often linked to a part that determines the nature of a company. Their task is to locate the business in space. They are frequently elements supplementing the already existing name with the localising identification of foreign companies (or Polish companies) by means of a name of a city

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or country: e.g., IBM Polska, ZETO-Rzeszów and Centrum Komputerowe ZETO àódĨ.

Names in the form of capital letters Names in the form of capital letters are related to the blends discussed previously. They do not provide information about the industry and are abbreviations created from first letters of compound names. They tend to act as symbols whose motivation is impossible to trace. They aim at achieving the visual solidification of a name. In Poland, acronyms functioning as names of companies and institutions have been present for a long time, e.g., PKO, PKP and PZU.

Names of the top fifty companies in Poland The material consists of the names of the top fifty companies whose ranking was published by Newsweek magazine in 2012. Along with the name of a company, its value in the last three years is also provided. The list features companies from various sectors of the economy—banks (the largest group), mining companies, petroleum companies, energy companies, insurance companies, chemical industry companies, construction companies, IT and telecommunication companies, transportation, paper industry companies, food industry companies, tourist and trade companies. Most of the names are Polish, sometimes relying on appellatives borrowed from other languages. The collected material was analysed according to the groups of company names distinguished by Rzetelska-Feleszko and Siwiec, showing that the report of the names of the best companies in Poland in 2012 is slightly different from the patterns suggested by the two researchers. The largest group consists of descriptive formulas (26 names), e.g., KGHM Polska MiedĨ, PGE Polska Grupa Energetyczna, Polski Koncern Naftowy Orlen, Polskie Górnictwo Naftowe i Gazownictwo, WĊglokoks, JastrzĊbska Spóáka WĊglowa, Aviva Towarzystwo UbezpieczeĔ na ĩycie, Telekomunikacja Polska, Elektrownia Rybnik, Lubelski WĊgiel Bogdanka, Krajowa Spóáka Cukrowa, PrzedsiĊbiorstwo PaĔstwowe Porty Lotnicze, Bank Gospodarki ĩywnoĞciowej and Europejski Fundusz Leasingowy. Among them, there are multi-word structures determining the character of the company, e.g., PrzedsiĊbiorstwo PaĔstwowe Porty Lotnicze (‘Polish Airports State Enterprise’). However, it is striking that a descriptive element is very often preceded by an acronym, e.g., KGHM Polska MiedĨ or PGE Polska Grupa Energetyczna. The acronym may function as the

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“proper” name of a company. In colloquial language, however, only the acronyms function as names of companies such as Bank Gospodarki ĩywnoĞciowej (BGĩ), Telekomunikacja Polska (TP or TEPSA) and PKO Bank Polski (PKO). An abbreviation preceding a descriptive name is either an acronym from the initial letters of a series of words, e.g., PGE (Polska Grupa Energetyczna) or an abbreviation of the previous name of a company, e.g., KGHM (Kombinat górniczo-Hutniczy Miedzi) Polska MiedĨ. It is worth noting that all the companies from the banking sector contain the appellative “bank” in their names, clearly indicating the nature of the company. Only one name, WĊglokoks, is a one-word name, a compound from the words wĊgiel (‘coal’) and koks (‘coke’) with the interfix -o-. Sometimes, an additional name appears alongside a descriptive name. It is commonly believed that it facilitates the identification of a company, e.g., Polski Koncern Naftowy Orlen, Grupa Lotos, Tauron Polska Energia. The first two names refer to company logos. The logo of Orlen features a stylised eagle (orzeá); the name is a blend with the element -en, frequently encountered in names of companies. Also a blend—but with unclear semantics—is the name Tauron, with the element -on, which is frequently found in names of companies and products. It is possible that the name refers to the Latin word taurus (‘bull’). In the name Grupa Lotos, the part Lotos is also related to the company’s logo, which is a lotus flower. The descriptive name of a company is often supplemented with a geographical name, e.g., Elektrownia Rybnik, Lubelski WĊgiel Bogdanka, Zakáady Azotowe w Tarnowie MoĞcicach, Katowicki Holding WĊglowy, Zakáady Azotowe Puáawy. Geographical names in the designations of such companies are names of cities or villages in the nominative case (Elektrownia Rybnik, Lubelski WĊgiel Bogdanka, Zakáady Azotowe Puáawy), or in the form of an adjective derived from a specific location (Katowicki Holding WĊglowy). In one case, there is a prepositional phrase (Zakáady Azotowe w Tarnowie MoĞcicach). Geographical names occur in thirteen company names. These are names of cities and villages: Mondi ĝwiecie, Elektrownia Rybnik, Lubelski WĊgiel Bogdanka, Zakáady Azotowe Puáawy, Zakáady Azotowe w Tarnowie MoĞcicach, Synthos Dwory; adjectives derived from names of locations or regions: Lubelski (Lublin) WĊgiel Bogdanka, JastrzĊbska (JastrzĊbie) Spóáka WĊglowa, Bank Zachodni WBK (Wielkopolski credit bank) (Wielkopolska), Katowicki (Katowice) Holding WĊglowy ING Bank ĝląski (ĝląsk); and the name of a country: Polska, English Poland: Asseco Poland, Raiffeisen Bank Polska, Nordea Bank Polska. They have a localising function,

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establishing a reference between a business and a country (i.e., Poland, in the case of branches of foreign companies), a specific region of a country (or Poland), and a specific location. Apart from an appellative identifying the profile of a company, certain names of companies also have the second part derived from an appellative, e.g., Bank Millenium (from Latin millennium ‘a period of a thousand years’). Other names contain well-known acronyms, e.g., BRE Bank, Bank BPH, Bank Zachodni WBK, PKO Bank Polski. Today, PKO evokes associations with a bank, even though this acronym has developed into Powszechna Kasa OszczĊdnoĞci. It is also read and interpreted as Pe-Ka-O or PEKAO—the latter form is visible in the name Bank PEKAO S.A. BRE in BRE Bank is Bank Rozwoju Eksportu, BPH is Bank PrzemysáowoHandlowy, and WBK is Wielkopolski Bank Kredytowy. In the case of acronyms in the names of banks, we are dealing with a certain tautology— the acronym features the letter B (=bank), and the entire name is accompanied by the full word Bank (being a part of the official name). There are only three names that have the shape of “clear” acronyms: TVN, LPP and Ciech. TVN was meant as an “independent television,” a “new television” (TV NOWA). LPP is unclear. Ciech is a combination of the initial letters of a multi-word name, Centrala Importowo-Eksportowa Chemikalii i Aparatury Chemicznej. Several company names derive from appellatives: Energa, Synthos, Netia and Orbis. They do not always correspond to Polish or foreign appellatives. Only the name of the tourist company Orbis derives from Latin and means ‘the world’. The name Energa is a transformation of the appellative energia. Synthos derives from the adjective synthetic and is a Latinised name following the pattern of other names with the element -os. The name Netia refers to the Internet—net, in common language—and was formed by the addition of a feminine inflection. There are very few typical blends: Budimex (‘to build’), Kopex (‘to dig’), Stalprodukt (‘steel products’), Polimex Mostostal (most ‘bridge’ and stal ‘steel’). They may be included among semantic blends that allow for the association of at least a part of the name with well-known appellatives. Structurally, names with the -ex affix are popular, which may refer to the word eksport. The name Polimex Mostostal features two blends; the first may refer to the words Polska (‘Poland’), polski (‘Polish’), import and eksport, whereas the second is a compound made up of most (‘bridge’) and stal (‘steel’) with the interfix -o-. The name Stalprodukt may be interpreted as ‘steel products.’ In the analysed corpus, there is also a group of designations that refer to foreign names of companies. They are distinguished by (1) the addition

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of the part Polska/Poland (Asseco Poland, Raiffeisen Bank Polska, Nordea Bank Polska; (2) the addition of a part from another Polish geographical name (ING BANK ĝląski, Mondi ĝwiecie); and (3) the specification of the nature of a company (Valeo Autosystemy, Aviva Towarzystwo UbezpieczeĔ na ĩycie, BSH SprzĊt Gospodarstwa Domowego). In this group, two names attract our attention: Mondi ĝwiecie and BSH SprzĊt Gospodarstwa Domowego. The former is a modification of the name of the mother company Framondi NV (with its headquarters in The Netherlands), from which Fra- was removed and the town name, ĝwiecie, was added. The latter contains an unclear acronym, BSH, which becomes clear only when information about the company is known. This is a daughter company of the German company BSH, i.e., Bosch & Siemens Home Appliances. However, only the name Strabag is used without any distinguishing features. The present analysis of the names of the top fifty companies in Poland in 2012 has shown that there are very few pure patterns as described by Rzetelska-Feleszko and Siwiec. Many names of companies feature acronyms that are most frequently added to the descriptive part of names. They are convenient because they occupy little space. They are also suggestive of the characteristic asemantic nature of company names (acronyms can only be deciphered in connection with the descriptive part of names or when one inquires into a company’s profile). Researchers studying company names underline the fact that such onomastic structures differ depending on companies’ profiles. In the corpus analysed in this chapter, only names related to banking are distinguished. The appellative “bank” always appears in their construction, both in the abbreviated and full name. Among the group of bank names, the name City Handlowy attracts one’s attention. It does not contain the element bank, and it is a combination of the names of two banks that merged in 2011: Bank Handlowy (the oldest Polish bank, established in 1870 by a group of people of the financial bourgeoisie, land owners and intelligentsia) and Citibank (Poland) S.A. The most common types of names are not blends, but descriptive names, indicating the industry to which the companies are related. Geographical names occur in names frequently. However, there are no names deriving from family or first names. Previous studies on company names and the present research show that even though there are certain patterns of company names, there are few such onomastic items that have a transparent, easily classifiable form.

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References Gaákowski, A. 2008. Chrematonimy w funkcji kulturowo-uĪytkowej. Onomastyczne studium porównawcze na materiale polskim, wáoskim, francuskim. àódĨ: Wyd. Uà. Przybytek, R., and K. Rymut. 2001. Bibliografia onomastyki polskiej od roku 1991 do roku 2000 wáącznie, sections on Chrematonyms, 350355. Cracow. Rzetelska-Feleszko, E. 1998. Obecne nazwy firm w Polsce i Europie. Onomastica 43: 267-214. —. 1999. Polskie, niemieckie i angielskie modele nazw firmowych. In Silva rerum. KsiĊga poĞwiĊcona Profesorowi Markowi Kornaszewskiemu w 70. rocznicĊ urodzin, S. Mikoáajczak (ed.), 33-39. PoznaĔ. —. 2000a. Nazwy firm—chaos czy system? In Onomastyka polska a nowe kierunki jĊzykoznawcze, M. Czachorowska and à. Szewczyk (eds.), 99112. Bydgoszcz. —. 2000b. Nowe struktury záoĪone w dzisiejszych nazwach firm w Polsce. In SáowiaĔskie composita onomastyczne, S. Warchoá (ed.), 207-214. Rozprawy Slawistyczne UMCS 17. —. 2003. Nazwy dzisiejszych sklepów i firm w aspekcie kulturowym. In Nazwy wáasne a kultura. Polska i inne kraje sáowiaĔskie, Z. Kaleta (ed.), 183-195. Warsaw. —. 2006. W Ğwiecie nazw wáasnych, 158-168. Warsaw: TNW. Siwiec, A. 2012. Nazwy wáasne obiektów handlowo-usáugowych w przestrzeni miasta. Lublin.

COMPANY NAMES AS IMITATIONS OF PERSONAL NAMES: MODELS WITH A BORROWED ETIQUETTE WORD SERGEY GORYAEV AND OLGA OLSHVANG Theoretical background of the research In this study1 we proceed from the approach developed in Russian linguistics that the onomasticon—that is, all the onomastic units of a language—is considered as an onomastic field. The basic principle of organisation of the field is nuclear peripheral relations; the core of the field is the category of personal names (anthroponyms), in which the properties and quality of personal names are presented entirely. This concept is proposed by Suprun (2000), but the idea of the fundamental role of personal names in onomastics in general is almost axiomatic. From this point of view, names related to economic activities (this category is referred to as “commercial names,” notably company and product names) are a pronounced peripheral category, in which the qualities of personal names are not fully expressed. If we ask any language speaker, who is not a professional linguist, to give an example of any proper name, the first thing we will hear is a personal name. If we draw the speaker’s attention to other categories of names, company names in particular, their reaction will often be quite certain: “It is not a name at all.” It is not by chance that until recently every dissertation on company or product names, in Russia at least, started by proving its proper name status. One could say that company names are dubious as proper names. Kryukova (2004) presents in detail the field approach to proper names in the commercial sphere. The researcher introduces the concept of “advertising name” which integrates four onomastic phenomena— ergonyms (company names), pragmatonyms (trade names), hemeronyms 1

Some results of the study were presented at the Conference of the 16th International Congress of the NSA. We express deep gratitude to our colleagues for their valuable comments.

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(mass-media names) and heortonyms (festival names)—and substantiates their peripheral position in relation to personal names.2 Referring to commercial names on the whole, we mention that this chapter is conceived within a general theoretical approach called “language-system.” Therefore, we distance ourselves from the approach of “language-humans” and refrain from using the term “advertising name,” which implies a basically pragmatic approach. In addition, although the trend (which will be discussed below) can be traced in many categories of “commercial” proper names, we limit ourselves to the corpus study of company names, leaving other sub-categories for future studies. Finally, unlike Kryukova (2004, 2008), we believe that it is necessary to oppose company names to product names. The reason is that by law a company is a group of people or assets that the law, in imitation of the personality of human beings, artificially treats as subjects of rights and duties independent of its component parts. In addition, from the viewpoint of language, company names have something in common with personal ones, in that the position of the agens is normal and natural for the former, as well as for the latter, whereas the position of patiens is more typical for product names. Therefore, company names are closer to personal names. It should also be noted that in Van Langendonck’s view (2007)—according to which the syntactic aspect plays a fundamental role—names of organisations and associations (some of which are companies) are analysed together with personal names from the viewpoint of prototypical proper names, while trade and brand names are dealt with in the category of non-prototypical names. Returning to Suprun’s concept, it should be noted that the author recently supplemented it, adding one more grammatical criterion of difference between nuclear proper names (i.e., personal names) and nonnuclear names. An important characteristic of peripheral proper names is that they normally function within the appellative-onymic complex.3 At least in Russian, personal names do not require (or do not allow for) an appellative accompaniment. To illustrate this point, we provide a quotation:

2

It is necessary to stipulate that the terms are given in our rendering. In a more recent English paper, the author narrows the concept of advertising name, limiting it to two subcategories: “advertising names are regarded as proper names which denote commercial and industrial enterprises (ergonyms) and trade-marks (pragmatonyms)” (Kryukova 2008). 3 The term “appellative-onymic complex” was introduced in Russian linguistics by Shirokov (2001).

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The appellative-anthroponymic formula can occur only in address, it is a sequence consisting of a term of polite address and family name in the vocative, characteristic of a particular nation or ethnic group: German: Herr Hengst, Frau Jahn, English: Mister Smith, Mrs Smith, French: monsieur Durand, madame Bovary, Czech: pane Nováku, paní Novaková. In Russian communications, a similar formula was used in a formal setting in the nineteenth and early twentieth century (gospodin Ivanov, gospozha Petrova), and after the October Revolution of 1917 it was replaced by a combination with the word tovarishh (comrade) (tovarishh Antonov, tovarishh Antonova); in judicial settings it was grazhdanin / grazhdanka (citizen), but all these forms did not go beyond official communication, as in Russian communication it is polite to address by name and patronymic: Rimma Ivanovna, Nikolai Petrovich—*gospodin / tovarishh / dean Ivanov (Suprun 2012: 140, our translation).

Changing the boundaries of the appellative-onymic complex to create a company name To make it clearer, we later discuss (in the third part of this chapter) a corpus of company names like Monsieur Olivier restaurant, Frau Helga furniture salon and Mister Green landscape projects studio. To a certain extent, we can assume the influence of Western brands with a similar structure. For example, on the Russian market there is a cleanser called Mister Proper from Procter & Gamble. Nevertheless, the Russian examples given below suggest that even if such name patterns were borrowed, they underwent important developments. As can be seen in the aforementioned quotation, a typical appellativeonymic complex (that includes a personal name) is a combination of family name + etiquette politeness word. In this case, such combinations are atypical of contemporary Russian. The word ɬɨɜɚɪɢɳ (‘comrade’) went out of everyday use (it should be noted that in Russian in the second half of the twentieth century the ideological load was completely lost). The efforts to revive/put into everyday use different etiquette words are still unsuccessful. At the same time, etiquette words borrowed from Western European languages are widely known. In our chapter we consider the words Mister, Mrs (Missis), Miss, Madame, Monsieur, Herr and Frau. What is the status of these lexemes in Russian? By means of books, newspapers, films and TV series these words appear in the active lexis of an average Russian speaker. Combining etiquette words with names of foreign origins (corresponding to the language of origin of the etiquette words) causes neither confusion nor hesitation in perception, or exclusion in Russian native speakers. These words entered the Russian language a

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long time ago and have become ingrained in it, although it is necessary to specify that they are not equally assimilated (e.g., the word madame was used in the nineteenth century with the meaning of ‘governess,’ a ‘foreign teacher’). They are clearly perceived as etiquette words and do not require any effort for a native speaker to interpret them. On the other hand, in Russian they are bright exoticisms—words that designate foreign realia. To address a Russian person in Russian using such a word would be seen as a joke. Being exotic, these words come out of everyday speech. In addition, because company names often contain exotic words (as an element of advertising), many of these lexemes can be used as company name elements, at least for advertising purposes. However, as pointed out above, in the present study, we refrain from dealing with advertising and pragmatic aspects. For us it is important that the use of etiquette words erases or at least makes less clear the distinction between personal names and company names. The use of a borrowed etiquette word in combination with graphic/sound sequences similar to family names allows an average Russian native speaker to perceive such structures with great confidence, exactly as with family names. This effect is further enhanced by adding a contextual similarity (sometimes used by advertisers). Here are hypothetical examples (grammatical differences between Russian and English are not essential here): (1) The famous traveller Mister Brown offers the chance to look at the world in a new way. (2) The travel agency Mister Brown offers the chance to look at the world in a new way. (3) Once again Mister Brown offers the chance to look at the world in a new way. In (1), Mister Brown is an appellative-onymic complex, where the family name is accompanied by an appellative etiquette word. In (2), the combination Mister Brown is a proper name preceded by the appellative “agency.” However, in both complexes the basic element is a unit which is uniquely interpreted as a family name. In (3), the perception of the syntagm Mister Brown not as a family name with an etiquette word, but as a company name is maintained by absolutely non-verbal means—for Russian, in this case the standard writing of the word “mister” is with a capital letter (the standard writing of the word “mister” as an etiquette word is with a lower-case letter and the whole combination is in quotes). Moreover, the use of etiquette words marks, “by default,” the subsequent word in the phrase as a personal name. A person would rather make an

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intellectual effort not to accept the second component as a personal name. To this end, one would have to turn to one’s onomastic competence, to explicit and implicit knowledge about the scope, the set of personal names existing in a language, and their possible formal structure. In our case, when the etiquette word is a borrowing, Russian native speakers need to have competence in the onomasticon of the foreign language, which makes the task even more difficult. In the creation of company names, this allows for experimentation and wordplay to deliberately upset the boundaries between proper names and appellatives, and the boundaries between core personal names and peripheral company names.

Corpus of Russian company names, including an etiquette word and a proper-name-like element We analyse a group of Russian company names whose similarity to personal names is especially underlined through specific words that usually mark personal names—Mister, Mrs (Missis), Miss, Herr, Frau, Fäulein, Monsieur, Madame and Mademoiselle (borrowings of Russian counterparts). We hypothesise that all mentioned words can be found in Russian ergonymy. These three languages (English, French and German) were chosen because they have been taught in public schools for two hundred years (English has predominated in recent decades, and in 80% of schools children learn English, while fifty years ago English was only taught in 10% of schools). Nevertheless, these lexemes are known by all Russians. Interestingly, when etiquette words are associated with anthroponyms, these can be real first or second names, or name-like imitations. They are of particular interest because the use of an exoticism is an instance of wordplay, and anthroponym + anthroponym-like components very often initiate this wordplay. Our corpus contains 154 such company names. Two models that dominate quantitatively are mister and madame. The latter does not correlate with the propagation of French in Russia. Moreover, German is more widely spread than French in education, in cultural relations and in a number of language contacts. Two potential models are not established (Fräulein and mademoiselle). In this part, our hypothesis was not supported.

Names with the component Herr The component Herr forms a group of four names: - Herr Piter (travel agency)

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- Herr Peter (wholesale trade) - Herr Audit (bookkeeper’s office) - Herr Raschid (no data) The first two cases obviously refer to Peter the Great, Russian Emperor and reformer, well known for his affinity for European lifestyle. Based on books and films, an average Russian develops a taste for being called Herr Peter, in a German manner, not according to Russian tradition. It is not a coincidence that the travel agency mentioned here operates in SaintPetersburg (the city itself, founded by Peter the Great, was named in a German manner). The second company does not work in Saint-Petersburg (it is a firm in Moscow), but imperial ambitions are common in modern advertising. Therefore, the emperor’s name as a company name creates generally positive cultural connotations. The third example shows how a borrowed appellative word can be used as an imitation of a personal name. Semantically, this borrowing is connected to the sphere of business activity. We also have to pay attention to a sort of etymological error—the German politeness word is combined with an English borrowing. The fourth example is quite specific. Rashid is an Arabian personal name, popular among ethnic Muslims in Russia. The combination of the Arabian name and German herr forms a kind of oxymoron, a paradox. Moreover, this company name was not written following the Cyrillic orthography, but the English spelling (this is yet another etymological mistake). No data are available about the core business of this company; it could be a fly-by-night company which does not exist any longer, and its name could derive from the first name of its owner.

Names with the component Frau The component Frau is much more popular; it forms twenty company names. We classify these names in several subgroups. The subgroup Frau 1 includes four names which employ a real German surname: - Frau Mueller (German furniture) - Frau Mueller (pub) - Frau Mueller (German beerhouse) - Frau Miller (a beer club) From a linguistic and cultural point of view, the German surname Mueller is well known in Russia, leading to a number of positive associations. The main reason for this is a television series (popular since the 1970s) about a Russian spy infiltrating Nazi leaders during World War

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II. The chief of the SS, Mueller, was played by a famous actor so well and convincingly that Mueller became a favourite character in jokes, parodies and so on. In the first example, the combination of two German components suggests an association with German technologies and German quality of furniture (it was the aim of the company name creators). The second and third examples produce an association with Germany as a traditional beer country. It should be noted that the word pub in Russian means a beerhouse in the English style, but this word is not an element of the ergonym. In the fourth example, the name was changed slightly, but the association with Mueller is obvious and it was deliberately made by name givers. Likewise, it can be a kind of beer. The data used in this analysis are taken not only from Russia, but also from the former Soviet republics where Russian is widespread (e.g., the second and the fourth examples are Ukrainian). The subgroup Frau 2 includes company names based on first names associated with the German onomasticon: - Frau Eva (German furniture) - Frau Helga (furniture shop) - Frau Irma (cleaning company) - Frau Martha (restaurant-brewery) - Frau Martha (restaurant) - Frau Martha (restaurant) - Frau Martha (trade company) - Frau Martha (frozen vegetables) Theoretically, these personal names can belong to Russians (there are some sporadic facts), but foreign names were popular in Russia in the 1930s and then quickly went out of fashion. Therefore, a Russian woman called Martha is likely to be a 70-year-old lady and is unlikely to have a restaurant, although there are three different restaurants in this group bearing this name. Moreover, we can already see that for the names in this group (frau + anthroponym) there is a limit of potential denotations— many of them are restaurants and furniture shops. The subgroup Frau 3 includes examples in which the foreign appellative plays the role of an anthroponymic component. This component is semantically or associatively connected with the field of activity of the company: - Frau Fisch (fresh/frozen fish) - Frau Schnapsbier (restaurant) - Frau Putzen (cleaning company)

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- Frau Good (cleaning company) - Frau Shop (internet shop) It should be noted that for a correct interpretation of such names, addressees and recipients must have certain linguistic competence. Take for example the third name in this subgroup. German putzen means ‘to clean’; it is recognisable only by persons who know German (at least from school). The second example can be characterised as a Russian-German one, however strange it may seem at first glance. Schnaps is fixed in Russian dictionaries as an exoticism, meaning ‘German vodka’ (it is already a Russian borrowed word). In the last two cases (the last was given in Latin letters) we deal with an etymological mistake: the pseudoanthroponymic component is not German but English. The subgroup Frau 4 has only one name: Frau Moda (a knitting shop). The second component is a Russian appellative (‘fashion’), borrowed in the eighteenth century. It now cannot be taken as a foreign word. In Russian this word is grammatically feminine, so it tallies very well with Frau. The subgroup Frau 5 has also only one onomastic item: Frau Schmidt (perfume, detergents). This is a brand distributor, and the usage of the German surname has a different motivation (rather than in the first group). This is only the translation of a German brand (the original spelling of the company name is in Cyrillic). Finally, the last subgroup Frau 6 includes one company name, Schoen Frau (a beauty salon). For the first time the word order is different from other examples (this is an exception). This is an allusion to a famous song, where German words are used with an English accent (“Bei mir bist du schon”) and the Russian transliteration shows this version. In general, this component is not obviously anthroponymic, but we should interpret it as an anthroponym if we are in the framework of the Russian language.

Names with the component Monsieur The names containing Monsieur form a group of five ergonyms: - Monsieur Patissier (bakery and restaurant) - Monsieur Olivier (cafe-bar) - Monsieur Olivier (restaurant) - Monsieur Bulkin (bakery) - Monsieur Boucher (hairdressing salon) In the first example, Patissier can be interpreted by a Russian native speaker only as a French surname, because this word is absolutely unknown in Russian. It is doubtful that the customers of this restaurant

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have a French-Russian dictionary with them. The following two examples, on the contrary, are open to interpretation. The Olivier salad is traditional in Russia in home and restaurant cuisine. It is typical for celebratory dinners, banquets and so on. In mass interpretation it is connected to French tradition. In some other languages this type of salad is not Olivier salad but Russian salad. The fourth example contains a real Russian surname with clear inner form (bulka ‘loaf’). That is why the name itself can create a humorous effect, and the combination of Russian and French words creates an onomastic oxymoron (it was the name givers’ intention). The last example is not common within the corpus. It is an instance of devotion or memorial name-giving. According to the company, it is named after Francois Boucher, who works as a source of inspiration for the masters of the salon.

Names with the component Madame This group includes company names with the Madame component (the second most frequently occurring foreign element in our corpus). The subdivision of these names is very interesting. The first Madame subgroup contains company names with real French surnames: - Madame Pompadour (beauty salon) - Madame Galife (restaurant) - Madame Sand (underwear shop) A clear interpretation is possible only for the first one (this family name becomes an appellative, synonymous with feminine beauty). In the second example we have a French family name that is more famous in military sphere or fashion, but not in the restaurant business. The name Sand triggers associations firstly with the French writer, George Sand, who is famous in Russia. She is a woman, but perhaps the name giver did not know that this pseudonym was specially created as a male name. Subgroup Madame 2 is based on the use of real first names: - Madame Nathalie (fitness hall for women) - Madame Galina (tattoo salon) - Madame Marina (cosmetology school) - Madame Rita (knitwear) However, only the first two examples include French names; the other elements are neutral-sounding female names, common to the Russian onomasticon. Thus, the main connotation load is precisely in the word Madam. An exception is the last example, where the name is used in the diminutive form, indicating a less formal communicative situation.

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The group Madame 3 includes names of characters in a works of art: - Madame Butterfly (beauty salon) - Madame Butterfly (private clinic) - Madame Broshkina (jewellery, four independent salons) - Madame Broshkina (shop) - Madame Broshkina (sauna) - Madame Gritsatsuyeva (cafe) - Madame Courage (festival organisation) - Madame Courage (flowers) - Madame Courage (furniture) Despite the fact that this group consists of only eleven titles, the anthroponyms are less numerous. The name of the opera by Puccini is repeated twice. Next in alphabetical order comes the name based on the character of the hit by a Russian pop singer. The song is on behalf of abandoned wives, and the word combination Madame Broshkina plays on repetitive rhymes. The family name is consonant with the Russian word for ‘abandoned’ (broshenny), which appears in the song. However, the internal form of the name refers to the word ‘brooch’ (brosh), and that is why among the ergonyms there are four jewellery stores. Madame Gritsatsuyeva is the character of a Russian satirical novel from the first half of the twentieth century. This is a comic character whose nature is underlined by the ridiculous sound of the family name. In the last case, the name allows for three interpretations. Firstly, it can refer to the main character of the play Mother Courage by Bertolt Brecht. Secondly, in Russian the same word is a borrowing with the meaning of ‘boldness’ and has a negative connotation, so it should not be a source of interpretation for the company name. However, if the name giver has carefully read the play, they would have realised that the character of Brecht is also negative. The third option is a French perfume brand Courage, so there was an attempt to transfer the relevant associations; the word Madame was added so the new name would not be perceived as a fraud. The subgroup Madame 4 consists of only two names. These are probably the real names of business women—Madame Koltsova (hairdresser’s salon); Madame Matushe (atelier). In the second case, one can suppose the back-clipped Russian surname Matu'shina. This makes it resemble a French one. Group Madame 5 is the last group for which we can assume an anthroponymic basis. It consists of three initial letters: - Madame A (winter clothes) - Madame T (shoes)

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- Madame Iks (trade company) However, the selection of letters could be accounted for by other considerations. “A” is the first letter of the alphabet, which provides the first position in all kinds of reference books. In the second example, name givers play with the initials that cannot be interpreted. The third uses the Latin letter “ȋ” written as a separate word name, which in combination with the word Madame points to mystery and an unknown person (who chose such a nickname). In the other groups of names that include the word Madame, the second component is not an anthroponym, but rather a quasi-anthroponym with a clear enough appellative meaning. The first such group, Madame 6, includes names that are imitations of anthroponymic components based on Russian appellatives: - Madame Klumboni (flowers; Klumba ‘flowerbed’) - Madame Sumkina (bags; Sumka ‘bag’) - Madame de Tarelle (dishes; Tarelka ‘plate’) - Madame Schoko (café; Shokolad ‘chocolate’) In the first case, once again there is an etymological error in which the French etiquette word is connected to the Italian pseudo-family name. The second example simulates a Russian name that derives from an everyday product name which, combined with the exoticism of Madame, gives a comic effect. The aristocratic surname de Tarel, formed by truncation from the Russian word meaning ‘plate’ and the anthroponym Shoko, is derived from the word chocolate perhaps in consonance with the name of Coco known thanks to Madame Chanel. In the next subgroup, Madame 7, there are names with an anthroponymic component (a stylisation), consisting of original French roots: - Madame Bon Voyage (travel agency) - Madame Boulanger (bakery) - Madame Grande (beauty shop) - Madame Su-Cré (bakers shop) - Madame Tissue (knitwear shop) - Mme de Fleur (jewellery, flowers, manufactured goods) - Mme de Fleur/d’Fleur (flower shop) - Mme Fleur (flower salon; Tula) - Madame Bicole - Madame Viso (beauty salon) All examples have an obvious interpretation except, perhaps, the last two. In Swiss French, bicolette is a synonym for ma mignonne (‘my dear’). In last case, there is no direct French analogue; maybe it is general

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for Romance language radical ‘look, appearance,’ or from Italian viso ‘face.’ In the last case, it is an etymological mistake. If it were a winter clothes atélier, we could suppose a connection with French vison ‘mink.’ The subgroup Madame 8 includes names containing a Russian appellative as an anthroponym-like component: - Madame Jersey (knitwear) - Madame Eclaire (bakery) - Madame Shic (clothes) - Madame Rosa (flower shop) - Madame Flora (clothes) - Madame Marmelade (‘fruit candy’; women’s underwear) - Madame Tachka (car service) Most of these appellatives are borrowed; they endorse “the foreign idea” of the whole company name. The last is an exception; the word tachka means ‘car’ in Russian slang, whereas in normative language it means ‘wheelbarrow.’ The last subgroup Madame 9 is represented by a name that is dubious from an anthroponymic viewpoint—Madame-Diva (‘virgin’; atelier). The hyphen in the name shows that the name giver probably did not intend to create an anthroponym-like component. Diva means ‘virgin’ in very high, poetic language.

Names with the component Mister The largest group of facts includes ergonyms with the component Mister (54 items). The first subgroup, Mister 1, as in all the others groups, includes ergonyms with an English family name that is culturally meaningful for Russians. There is only one name—Mister Ford (shop). This name is known as a car brand, but there is no connection with cars here as it is a corner shop. The next case is the use of the first name of real owners as a company name—Mister Alex (dog nursery). This is a short, colloquial variant of the Russian name Alexey (it looks English). Mister 3 includes names of cinema and literature characters: - Mister Bond (travel agency) - Mister Fogg (travel agency) - Mister Fix (travel agency) - Mister Twister (furniture) Mister Bond is well known. Mister Fogg and Mister Fix are characters from Jules Verne’s novel Around the World in 80 Days, but they are better

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known in Russia thanks to an Australian cartoon. Mister Twister is a character in a satirical poem (an American millionaire comes to the USSR and has troubles with an African-American living in the hotel next door to him). This character is popular in some other proper name categories (e.g., there is a musical band with this name). Mister 4 includes abbreviations (initial letters): - Mister S. (alcoholic drinks) - Mister B and S (transportation) - Mister X (cafe) - Mister Iks (beauty salon) In the first two cases, a real connection between letters and the real owner names is suggested. In the last examples, the Latin letter and its name are used as a traditional symbol for an enigmatic, unknown person. The next subgroup, Mister 5, contains company names in which the second component is an imitation of surnames: - Mister Zamkoff (locks, safes; zamok ‘lock’) - Mister Podarkin (festival organisation; podarok ‘present, gift’) - Mister Chister (cleaning company, chist ‘clean’) The first two examples imitate Russian family names by means of typical family name suffixes. The first one has a specific element of external form; the double f at the end of the family name is not an original Russian spelling. In the nineteenth century it was a way to transliterate a Russian family name into English. All examples are given here using the Latin alphabet, but many of them exist in Cyrillic form. This is a fact of back-transliteration from English and it underlines the element of wordplay. The last name is based on a Russian radical, but imitates an English family name. In the next subgroups, the second element already has less similarity to anthroponyms, being an appellative word. This group even includes such words which can be used as family names in English, even if it has an appellative meaning. Its inner form is clear to many Russian language speakers. The next subgroup, Mister 6, consists of seventeen names, in which the role of an anthroponymic component is played by an English word that is semantically directly or associatively connected to the business: (1) Mister Ice (frozen food) (2) Mister Ice (ice for drinks) (3) Mister Gold (video games) (4) Mister Green (landscape projects) (5) Mister Doors (furniture, doors) (6) Mister Doors (cottage building)

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(7) Mister Cap (car service) (9) Mister Clean (cleaning company) (10) Mister Catering (banquets, festivals, anniversaries) (11) Mister Laundry (laundry) (12) Mister Pack (package, covers) (13) Mister Pos (advertising) (14) Mister Print (logos for sports shirts) (15) Mister Pan (note paper) (16) Mister Times (car service) (17) Mister Heat (heaters) (18) Mister Freeze (frozen meat) A family name as in the fourth example exists in Russian literature (Alexander Green is a famous Russian writer), but in general contexts the appellative meaning dominates. The same holds for example (14). In Russian it can be understood as an English name. Example (7): In Russian colloquial language it is possible to address a taxi driver as “chief,” or “commander.” “Cap” seems to be the word which can continue this list. Example (8): There is one Russian word with the same phonemic order, it means ‘wedge,’ but this connection was evidently ignored by the name giver. Example (9): The word “catering” is not fixed in Russian dictionaries, but already exists in Russian jargon. It does not mean ‘food delivery’ as in English, but ‘organising banquets, picnics, stand-up meals’ and all sorts of parties. Example (12) could be a clipping of the word “poster.” Green as a family name is famous in Russia, but the appellative meaning is clear, too. Example (15): A completely incorrect name—the meaning of the English word is far from a car service business; the name giver could be attracted by an external “foreign” form of the word. The largest subgroup of Mister-ergonyms contains a Russian word as a second element, which really exists and has its own meaning in Russian and its own article in Russian comprehensive dictionaries. Such words can be borrowed or can have a Russian origin. Their meaning is clear to Russian native speakers; however, it functions as an anthroponym: (1) Mister Web (computers) (2) Mister Dent (dentist) (3) Mister Hamburger (cafe) (4) Mister Dog (animal goods) (9) Mister Dom (‘house’; house-building) (10) Mister Zvuk (‘sound’; car sound, cart running) (11) Mister Computer (computers company) (12) Mister Metalloprokat (‘iron rolling’; rolled metal) (13) Mister Motor (car service)

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(14) Mister Miaow (goods for animal keeping) (15) Mister Master (electric instruments) (16) Mister Office (stationery) (17) Mister Ponchik (‘doughnut’; café) (18) Mister Pol (‘floor’; floor-making) (19) Mister Soushi (beer pub) (20) Mister Tour (travel agency) (21) Mister Filter (water filters) (22) Mister Florist (phytodesign) (23) Mister Khan (Korean cars) (24) Mister Shkaf (furniture shop) (25) Mister Shrus (‘car drive joint’; car part shop) (26) Mister Pizza (pizza house) (27) Mister Plomba (‘seal’; goods for stamping and sealing) (28) Mister Chistka (‘cleaning’; cleaning company) Examples (1) and (2) are not words but word-building elements with term meaning. Example (4): The Russian borrowed word “dog” now means a definite breed of dogs, the Great Dane. Example (12): This name is not typical. All the other names mentioned refer to different kinds of service, whereas here it is a name of a large industrial plant (these institutions are usually much more conservative in naming). Example (14): An echoic word; grammatically, it is an interjection, whereas the other examples contain nouns. Example (18): A formal coincidence in Russian graphic forms provokes an interpretation of the second component as the English name Paul but, according to the general context, the Russian word pol is a basis here. Example (19): A case of etymological mistake. Mister is connected to a Japanese borrowing. There are a few examples of such mistakes in other groups and in this one as well—see Example (26). The last three examples end in -a. In Russian, this is a characteristic of feminine words. It intensifies the wordplay and underlines that the ergonym is a simple imitation of a polite address to a man. In addition, the last example, (28), combines an exoticism (Mister) with an “everyday” word that practically bears no anthroponym-likeness. In general, this pattern is the most widespread. It is possible that any Russian word connected to Mister can become an ergonym.

Conclusion We have seen Russian company names that are formed based on one and the same principle—a borrowed European etiquette word + an anthroponymic component that in most cases has no relation with the

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owners’ real names. The corpus can further be exploited on a stylistic, linguistic-cultural or contextual level. Returning to the idea of nuclear-peripheral relations in the field of onomastics, the following should be noted. The data discussed in this chapter illustrate two interrelated trends. On the one hand, the peripheral category of proper names (company names) aims to achieve a status close to nuclear ones. For this, a company name imitates a personal name from the formal point of view. In our examples it is shown most clearly and deliberately—the use of an etiquette word in a phrase almost automatically leads to the perception of the following lexeme as a proper name. On the other hand, due to this, there may be words with a diverse background in this position—real proper names, neologisms, borrowings and native words (both proper and common nouns), so the nuclear category of proper names becomes “blurred” and loses its boundaries. An anthroponym, as we have already said, embodies the idea of a proper name. Ergonyms, on the other hand, being on the periphery, do not generally correspond to this concept. An attempt to borrow an anthroponymic model brings ergonyms closer to the nucleus of onomastic space, raising their status within the framework of proper names. Nowadays, names in commerce are the most widespread and the most active in onomastic space. Under their influence, the term “proper name,” which still demands much investigation, becomes more and more vague.

References Ʉɪɸɤɨɜɚ, ɂ.ȼ. 2004. Ɋɟɤɥɚɦɧɨɟ ɢɦɹ: ɨɬ ɢɡɨɛɪɟɬɟɧɢɹ ɞɨ ɩɪɟɰɟɞɟɧɬɧɨɫɬɢ. ȼɨɥɝɨɝɪɚɞ: ɉɟɪɟɦɟɧɚ [Kryukova, I. 2004. Advertising name: form invention to precedence. Volgograd: Peremena]. Kryukova, I. 2008. Russian Advertising Names as a Matter of Linguistic Fashion. Onoma 43: 397-410. Van Langendonck, W. 2007. Theory and Typology of Proper Names. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. ɋɭɩɪɭɧ, ȼ.ɂ. 2000. Ɉɧɨɦɚɫɬɢɱɟɫɤɨɟ ɩɨɥɟ ɪɭɫɫɤɨɝɨ ɹɡɵɤɚ ɢ ɟɝɨ ɯɭɞɨɠɟɫɬɜɟɧɧɨ-ɷɫɬɟɬɢɱɟɫɤɢɣ ɩɨɬɟɧɰɢɚɥ. ȼɨɥɝɨɝɪɚɞ: ɉɟɪɟɦɟɧɚ. [Suprun, V. 2000. The onomastic field of the Russian language and its artistic-aesthetic potential. Volgograd: Peremena]. —. 2012. Ⱥɩɟɥɥɹɬɢɜɧɨ-ɨɧɢɦɢɱɟɫɤɢɣ ɤɨɦɩɥɟɤɫ ɤɚɤ ɮɨɪɦɚ ɫɭɳɟɫɬɜɨɜɚɧɢɹ ɩɟɪɢɮɟɪɢɣɧɵɯ ɨɧɢɦɨɜ ɜ ɹɡɵɤɟ. ȼ ɗɬɧɨɥɢɧɝɜɢɫɬɢɤɚ. Ɉɧɨɦɚɫɬɢɤɚ. ɗɬɢɦɨɥɨɝɢɹ: ɦɚɬɟɪɢɚɥɵ II Ɇɟɠɞɭɧɚɪ. ɧɚɭɱ. ɤɨɧɮ., ȿɤɚɬɟɪɢɧɛɭɪɝ, 8-10 ɫɟɧɬɹɛɪɹ 2012 ɝ. ȿ.Ʌ Ȼɟɪɟɡɨɜɢɱ (Ɋɟɞ.), 146-147.

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ȿɤɚɬɟɪɢɧɛɭɪɝ: ɂɡɞ-ɜɨ ɍɪɚɥ. ɭɧ-ɬɚ. [Suprun, V. 2012. Apellativeonymic complex as a form of existence of peripheral proper names in a language. In Ethnolinguistics. Onomastics. Ethymology: Book of Abstracts of the IInd International Scientific Conference, Ekaterinbyrg, 8-10 September 2012. E. Beresovich (ed.), 146-147. Yekaterinburg: Ural State University edition]. ɒɢɪɨɤɨɜ Ⱥ.Ƚ. 2001. Ɋɭɫɫɤɚɹ ɭɪɛɚɧɨɧɢɦɢɹ ɜ ɞɢɚɯɪɨɧɢɱɟɫɤɨɦ ɨɫɜɟɳɟɧɢɢ: ɚɩɟɥɥɹɬɢɜɧɨ-ɨɧɢɦɢɱɟɫɤɢɟ ɤɨɦɩɥɟɤɫɵ: ɚɜɬɨɪɟɮ. ɞɢɫ. ... ɤɚɧɞ. ɮɢɥɨɥ. ɧɚɭɤ. ȼɨɥɝɨɝɪɚɞ, 2001. [Shirokov, A. 2001. Russian urbanonymy in a diachronic interpretation: Appellative-onymic complexes. Author’s Abstract of PhD Dissertation, Volgograd].

THE INFLUENCE OF THE IDEA OF PRESTIGE OF A FOREIGN COUNTRY AS REGARDS NAMING COMMERCIAL ENTITIES AND URBAN MICROTOPONYMS MICHEL A. RATEAU As announced in the title, this study proposes to corroborate the hypothesis that the image of a country as well as the preconceived ideas one may have about it, rightly or wrongly, upheld by people foreign to this country and to its language, might play a predominant part in the decision of the owners of certain categories of commercial entities when naming them. In this study, by “commercial entities” we mean such commercial places as those opened or created in connection with fashion and cosmetics (shops, boutiques, beauty salons), some services (flower selling, pet-animal studios and parlours), food (restaurants, bars, snack-bars) and accommodation (hotels, residences, villas), whatever the linguistic status of their names is (Van Langendonck 2007: 235-238). These commercial entities bear names with multiple functions. Once created, these names reveal to the public the existence of commercial offers for various products launched on the market, intended to satisfy one’s curiosity, needs or desires. Therefore, these designations contribute to the success of the said companies as they are names that “marquent” (Bessis 2001), i.e., that “strike” people’s mind. They also have the objective to “make the customer believe […]” (Laurent 2010: 27) that with a French (in this study) word or reference in the name, the product will be better and will be worth the buyer’s investment. The word then has an “evocative density” (“une densité évocatrice,” ibid.: 43). In this way, the name givers of commercial entities increase the onomastic patrimony of a place, inhabited as a rule (municipality, city, town and suburb, sometimes even a village), or cultural/touristic sites in general, thus giving rise to real urban microtoponyms. These places can become real urban landmarks, and one can go there or direct a visitor to the shortest way there.

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As specified in the title, this chapter analyses the motivation in naming commercial entities and urban microtoponyms in relation to the prestige associated with the French language, “la France” (with Paris as the capital), its culture as well as its proper name “France”; a country of cheese, wine, cuisine, haute couture, fashion, cosmetics and perfumes, but also arts. It is by citing these words, and many more, through South African (SA) examples that I intend to develop this hypothesis. To constitute a proper corpus, the Cape Peninsula 2008-2009 telephone directory Yellow Pages (1447 A4 pages) was chosen from the entire collection of South African phone directories because, geographically and culturally, it corresponds to the most internationalised part of the country. Also, it is in the Cape area that the first French migrants settled as early as 1652, with the first Governor’s wife, Maria de La Queillerie (Rateau 1991), bringing in a long-term tradition of “Frenchness” to this vast Southern African territory (Rateau 2003). All in all, the corpus consists of 252 South African commercial names as well as microtoponyms of, or seemingly of, “French origin.” Some extra oral data and opinions were collected with the local informers, who were commercial place owners, linguists and onomasticians, historians or genealogists (See the Sources). To demonstrate this onomastic and commercial theory, we will first observe what the language elements are that qualify as reminding us of “France, a country with a certain prestige, worthy of a certain commercial interest.” We also will endeavour to determine to what extent, how and in which fields they serve to remind us of its “brilliant culture and its exquisite products of high quality.” The lexical/grammatical categorisation (common nouns and proper names, adjectives, articles, prepositions and so on), accentuation and spelling irregularities, as well as the onomastic functions, will be dealt with on a different occasion.

:RUGVRIWKH³6RXWK$IULFDQRQRPDVWLFOH[LFRQ´ WKDWUHPLQGXVRI³)UDQFH´ 7KH³6RXWK$IULFDQRQRPDVWLFOH[LFRQRI)UHQFKRULJLQ´ What I call the “South African onomastic lexicon of French origin” is the list of the words (generic items or not) reminding us of a “French origin” or conveying such a connotation, used in South Africa to name any place (a list that I have constituted over the past forty years of research and

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publications). These words deal with toponymy, microtoponymy, odonymy, commercial entities, as well as the places where they are located. In this study, only the words used to name commercial entities are considered. They often belong to the SA English and/or Afrikaans lexicons, but they can also be used by speakers of languages of any other origin (Arabic, Bantu, Chinese, Hindi, Malaysian, Tamil and so on). Some of those words (boutique, café, hotel, restaurant) no longer belong only to the French language or to a few more, but to a sort of “international onomastic lexicon,” an international language in naming. Some examples are: - Café Imbiza (KFN): the word café appears in French in Marseilles in 1654, two years after the Dutch Cape Colony was created by Jan Van Riebeeck in 1652. This is an interesting case, as the French word café entered the English language as a synonym for “coffee-house” in “the 19th century” (Onions 1983). It entered the Dutch language (Van Dale) after 1847. The question is, was the word “café” borrowed from Dutch, from English, or directly from French? (The various Afrikaans dictionaries do not have an entry for this word so far.) Imbiza is a Zulu word meaning ‘calabash’/a ‘pot’ made out of a sort of Cucurbitaceae, a ‘cooking-pot.’ - Umoja Internet Café (SRR): here, as in the case of many SA Internet places or shops, café changes its meaning for ‘the place where…’ Internet Café is the generic group. Umoja is Zulu for ‘the spirit of unity, of togetherness.’ It is the name of a musical group that is famous in the Republic of South Africa, as well as in more than twenty-five countries all over the world. Umoja is the proper name of this Internet café. The name giver was a fan of the two main singers, Todd Twala and Thembi Nyandeni, who founded this musical group. - Monate Gourmet (TVW): monate has nothing to do with German Monate (‘months’), but means ‘delicious’ in isiSotho/seSotho, one of the two official languages generally spoken in Lesotho. Gourmet is a French word that entered English in the nineteenth century, meaning “connoisseur in delicacies of the table” (Onions 1983). It is as much an adjective as a noun.

Words that remind us of “France” in one way or another These words have been borrowed by speakers of European languages (Middle Dutch, Dutch, Afrikaans, Middle English and English), directly from French (for the English as well as for the Afrikaans language), via Dutch or English (for Afrikaans), sometimes as early as the twelfth century. Some “SA English” examples will illustrate this first statement:

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- Boutique: from French boutique (Harrap’s “petit magasin de mode” or “small fashion shop”; twentieth century; not in Onions 1983). E.g., Salon la Boutique (hairdresser’s; KFN), Déjà Vu Fashion Boutique (clothing; KWH). - Café: it can be a French-style café, that is to say a “coffee-house,” a “place where you can order and drink coffee” (Harrap’s, nineteenth century). It can also be a snack-bar, a sort of pub or even a “caférestaurant” (Harrap’s, twentieth century), but also whatever goes through the mind of the shop-keeper! E.g., Birds Boutique Café (name of a tearoom opened to attract young or unmarried young “birds,” in English slang; see James Bond/007’s “birds”; CPT), The African Café (a restaurant; not a restaurant for Africans but a restaurant in Africa; CPT), The Hair Café (hairdresser’s; TKI), Buena Vista Social Café (after the local place named Buena Vista, where social life is rather pleasant; SPT) or Generations Café (where all generations meet; WPK).

The fields represented Generally speaking, these words belong to renowned cultural and commercial aspects of French life.

Restoring (restorative food) The international “traditional” feeling that French food is (one of) the tastiest types of food around the world has led many commercial creators to combine this “impression of justified fame” with their professional activities, and this is why we can present the following examples of specialised vocabulary: - Chefs connection (PRW): a food and meal manufacturer; chef is a French word, in English used only in culinary vocabulary. Connection reminds the customer of the very well-known movie The French Connection (1971), directed by William Friedkin, and followed by French Connection 2 (1975), directed by John Frankenheimer. Both were inspired by the French Connection, the name and the story of a group of heroin dealers who exported the drug from France to the USA. Besides the ethnical adjective, it may have added an extra subconscious sense of excitement regarding the food. - Kan Hua Asian Cuisine (STN) or Namaskar Indian Cuisine (BVE): in each case, the French word implies that the food served in that place is as good as the famous and delicious French cuisine (‘cooking’).

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- Café: this worldwide known element deserves great attention and care! It is often rather difficult to figure out the exact etymological/ philological and cultural origin of this word, essentially due to the fact that amongst the internationalised population living in South Africa some people do not pay too much attention to spelling any more. Therefore, one could almost write out the semantic equations: “cafe = café = caffé = caffee = cafè = cafée = cafee = kafe = kafé = kaffe = kaffee … = coffee, koffee …” All these instances were seen. In theory, only one is French, but in practice, many more than one were or are (still) considered as French or even as being so close to the French word that “it will do!” Few speakers/creators will bother sorting out what is French, Spanish, Portuguese (café), German (Kaffee), Swedish, Danish (kaffe) or Italian (caffè), which explains why we also collected forms that do not correspond to any known language! Compare: Café Allegro (CPT) (allegro: Spanish and Italian), Cafe Amicci (GWD) (Amici ‘friends’ in Italian) and Cafe da Vinci (CPT) (da Vinci, Italian). Some cafés keep the French form.

Accommodation, lodging, hotel and trade Very few words exist in our “SA onomastic lexicon” that remind us of this special field. Yet, some interesting examples can be listed: - Allure Villa (CTA): a residential product. Although allure entered the English lexicon as early as the fifteenth century (Onions 1983) and although its meaning has also been modernised and has undergone a real evolution, it still reminds the well-educated that it is of French origin and that it sends you back to such ideas as “prestige” or “elegance.” Villa is an international generic. - La Chaumière B & B (WMD): La Chaumière is the commercial name, of French origin (< chaume < Latin calamus), also meaning ‘a place to live’ (with a thatched roof), therefore in connection with the professional activity. Here, chaumière adds a sense of cosiness. “B & B” is the usual English and international abbreviation for “bed and breakfast.” - Le Rendez-vous guest House (MTN): a similar note can be made in the case of Rendezvous, which entered the English language as early as the sixteenth century via military vocabulary. Its modernised sense, also specialised in “rendez-vous de chasse,” “rendez-vous amoureux” meaning ‘place of (secret) rendezvous,’ has become more and more used in the Western world over the last few decades. This perfectly explains the choice of the name giver.

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“La Femme”: Fashion and ladies/women Beauty salons The generic element is the phrase constituted with “beauty” and “salon.” The English word “beauty” derives from Anglo-Norman beute, itself issued from Old French bealte, beaute (Onions 1983). “Salon” exists in both lexicons, French and English. In this professional activity, together they produce the specific meaning ‘salon for beauty.’ The generic phrase “beauty salon” is therefore partly French. It may happen that only one of the two is used in naming a beauty salon, while the generic ensemble can also undergo a partial elision. Clearly indicating an activity and an advertising message: - La Belle Beauty Salon (CTA) delivers a very straightforward message: “Here, in this salon, we deal with the beauty of beautiful women.” The generic is composed of two words, “beauty” and “salon.” Yet it is to be read as only one, as they convey together only one commercial meaning, as in French “salon de Beauté.” Separated, they lose this present meaning. La Belle is the woman who might enter this salon and the idealised woman who will later come out highly satisfied. In prose, it should be re-written “La Belle, Beauty Salon” and its real meaning would appear in a clearer manner: ‘This beauty salon is named La Belle.’ But this possible confusion does not change the commercial object—to seduce the lady customer. This naming method was observed in “Accommodation.” With a person’s name: - Annelle’s Beauty Salon (CPT): Annelle might be a mix, for example, of Ann- + (Chant-)-elle. Commercial entities named entirely in French and in the “French way”: - Espace Beauté (SPT): espace is a fashionable French word to name a place. The English word is “space,” but it does not convey the same meaning. Beauté is so close to “beauty” and the salon window shows so much about “beauty” that there is no confusion or doubt. Indicating its activity as well as its localisation: - Cape Beauty Salon Supply Company (CPT): indicates that the company supplies Beauty Salons, that this company is located in the Cape

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(Peninsula) area and supplies “all the salons that wish to be their customers in this professional working area.” Cosmetics and perfumery The word “perfume” has been known in English since the sixteenth century (Onions 1983). According to Dauzat et al. (1968), in French, the word cosmétique is recorded as early as 1555; it derives from Greek kosmos (‘order,’ in its figurative meaning ‘ornament, adornment, embellishment’). Onions cites this word in his dictionary, but it is obvious that English borrowed it from the French. - Beau Ici (BVE): beau was borrowed from French around the seventeenth century. Yet, in those days, it referred rather to a “dandy” and then, in the eighteenth century, to a “lady’s suitor.” The meaning we have here conveys the sense of mere physical beauty and, possibly, the beauty one might obtain with such means as maquillage (‘make-up’). It may also recall the first name of the American film star Bo (read “beau”) Derek, who is a real symbol of feminine beauty. How the French adverb of place ici came into the name giver’s mind is unknown (I could never reach them). If one tries to visualise the shop, one can imagine a fist with a finger pointing to the entry door, inviting the customer to find what they are looking for to look more beautiful. Yet, this hypothesis pertains to the onomastic imagination. The use of a preposition is not unique. An example is found in the commercial name of the eating-place of Italian origin Adesso Restaurant (‘now restaurant’; in Italian ristorante < French; Bolelli), located in Rondebosch. Another criterion of selection might be found in the collective subconscious. Beau Geste is the title of a very famous American film (1939), a remake of a previous version (1926), directed by William Wellman, with the highly appreciated film star Gary Cooper playing the hero. - Fragrance Boutique (GWD): fragrance (‘perfume’), an English noun derived from the French adjective, borrowed in the fifteenth century by John Milton (1608-1674). The English poet used the other version, “fragrancy” (Onions 1983). - Parfum de France (CTA): the name seems to be French. At that time, when I phoned in 2010, the person answering said that she was a South African, that she was not the owner but only in charge of the shop and that she knew nothing else. The assembling of the three words Parfum de France is strong and powerful. Yet, with parfum in the singular, it does not only speak of the “perfumes” exhibited in this boutique but, in French, it may have the meaning of ‘a wonderful and specific feeling about that country that we call France.’ Just like in some “souvenirs,” there is a

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mixture of pride and nostalgia. If the name giver is not a native French speaker, their knowledge and love for this country are wonderful. Flowers and florists Women are often compared to the most beautiful flowers, and this is the reason why it was decided to put this heading under “Women.” According to Onions (1983), “flower” comes from Anglo-Norman flur (see English flirt), from Old French flour/flor. But florist, in English since the seventeenth century, derives from Latin flor, although it received some influence from French fleuriste, which has existed since 1680 (Dauzat et al. 1968). Some examples: - Fleur Deli (SPT) should be read in English as fleur-de-lis (Old French, flour de lys; Onions 1983). Middle English said flower de lice or delice. More variations of all kinds might have confused this name giver, who really meant to celebrate the fleur de lys or, better, the lily flower. - La Belle Fleur (PKF), ‘the pretty flower,’ an obvious name for a florist’s. The construction of the name makes us suppose that the name giver is a native English speaker, which may also be the case of La Belle Beauty (VKF). - Palette de Fleurs (DWT): palette is an English word borrowed from French in the seventeenth century. Fleurs is correctly spelt as a plural. It is quite possible that the name giver was French, although some welleducated person foreign to the French language could also, at any time, produce such an artistic name. - Pot et Fleur (ZBM): this name is not “impossible,” but one wonders if there has not been a confusion with pot de fleur (‘flower-pot’)? - Vive la Rose Florist (PSD): this name combines the activity of the name giver and the product they surely sell, one confirming the other. It is also a commercial way to advertise. It might as well refer to Guy Béart’s most enjoyable French tune (Vive la Rose), which had great success all over the world in the 1960s. It was first a quite old song written about fickle, inconstant, flighty love. Its other title was Mon amant me délaisse (‘my lover abandons me’). Besides, the French language has some more well-known expressions: Vive le Roi!, Vive la République!, Vive la France! These extra details might also have played a part in the naming decision. Fashion and clothing Language confusion: - Compliments Boutique (HBY): “compliment(s),” in the English language since the seventeenth century, was borrowed from French. These two words are English but the name giver and the language of the name of

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the shop located in an English speaking country could also be French. Boutique is the generic. This name should make the customer think or even believe that they should get compliments on their new clothing if they shopped in this boutique. Complimenting on the advantage that a shop offers: - La Bonne Boutique (CMT): bonne is the feminine of the French adjective bon (‘good’). Obviously, the name giver is “selling” their shop; they advertise for their boutique since they propose good products. In this international British context, bonne also means ‘the right one’ and, here, the right boutique where you should be shopping. With reference to a bygone time: - St-Tropez Boutique (CPT): in the 1960s to 1970s, St-Tropez (more correctly, Saint-Tropez), on the French Riviera in the South-East of France, was the territory of Brigitte Bardot, the famous French film star. In those years, fashion was much more happening than it is today, and Saint-Tropez was the “place to be.” The name giver wanted their shop to be a commercial success referring to “happy memories,” and they probably decorated their boutique accordingly, with some lovely view of the (French) Riviera and exquisite pictures of Brigitte Bardot in sexy bikinis. Second-hand clothing dealer/shop: - Deja vu Fashion Boutique (KWH): generally speaking, Deja vu (without the two accents on déjà) means ‘already seen’ in French. During the twentieth century, these words partly constituted an expression—du déjà vu (‘what has already been seen’). Amongst the youngsters and the world of fashion today it means various things in English, such as ‘out of fashion,’ ‘second-hand,’ ‘not new clothing,’ ‘something that did not impress you much the first time you saw it,’ and so on. Obviously, it refers here to a shop where one can buy second-hand clothing. It has nothing to do with the strong impression that psychologists mention in their studies and publications. Note that here the clothes are in good condition, clean and also sometimes dating from fashionable past times. It has nothing to do with a traditional second-hand dealer (brocanteur in French), who may sell anything in any state of use. Hairdressing No doubt, hairdressing has a good ranking in the occupations of ladies, and the salons de coiffure (‘hairdresser’s salons’) are not lacking in town.

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- Belle Femme Hair Studio (HBY): as we have already seen, in the world of cosmetics, name givers provoke their ladylike customers (on condition that they understand some French…). They must be attracted by the simple idea of being this very Belle Femme. “Hair” is there to avoid confusion with some other activity (photography, for example) and “Studio” (from Italian) might remind us of the beautiful, mysterious, even voluptuous women painted or sculpted by great Italian artists. - La Coupe Hairstylist (SPT): this name also presupposes some knowledge of French, yet it is not an obstacle to reaching success. Since la coupe (for la coupe de cheveux) is correct as a French expression meaning ‘the haircut,’ the customer will soon learn how to pronounce it and let their friends know about this interesting salon. La Coupe is the name and “hairstylist” the generic.

A few words for a first conclusion From the beginning, it was thought that the name givers of these commercial spots were influenced by the international reputation of France and its national language in various commercial fields such as gastronomy, women’s clothing or flowers. We hope that the numerous examples given here have contributed to demonstrate that this hypothesis may now be considered as an onomastic reality.

Abbreviations Countries and various entities - KZN: KwaZulu-Natal (ex-Zululand, in Natal Province) - NSA: Name Society of Southern Africa - SA: South African - SFO: Société Française d’Onomastique (Paris) - UTL: Université du Temps Libre, Bergerac, France - WAT: Woordeboek van die Afrikaanse Taal

Cities, towns and suburbs To produce a necessary tool for geographical references, the commercial names used are followed between parentheses by a code of three letters recalling the entire English name of the city, town, quarter, suburb or agglomeration concerned. Thus: (CPT) = Cape Town.

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- BFL: Brackenfell - BVE: Bellville - CMT: Claremont - CPT: Cape Town - CTA: Constantia - DVE: Durbanville - DWT: De Waterkant - GDS: Gardens - GWD: Goodwood - HBY: Hout Bay - KBH: Kirstenbosch - KFN: Kraalfontein - KRR: Kuils River - KWH: Kennilworth - MPN: Mitchells Plain - MTN: Milnerton - ORY: Ottery - PLD: Parkland - PLS: Portlands

- PKF: Platterkloof - PRW: Parow - PSD: Plumstead - PTA: Pretoria - RLS: Rylands - SBH: Sunset Beach - SFD: Southfield - SPT: Sea Point - SRR: Salt River - STN: Simmons Town - TKI: Tokai - TVW: Table View - TVY: Tyger Valley - WBG: Wynberg - WSK: Woodstock - WFT: Waterfront - WPK: West Plndstr. Park - ZBM: Zonnebloem

Sources Interviews with commercial place owners, in Cape Town, Franschhoek, Langebaan, Stellenbosch, Tulbagh. Discussions with: * SA linguists: Prof. (Emeritus) Bertie Neethling, Univ. Bellville; Prof. Adrian Koopman, Univ. KZN, Pietermaritzburg; Prof. Theodorus Du Plessis, Univ. Free State, Bloemfontein; Univ. of Stellenbosch, Linguistics Dpmt; Amanda de Stadler, Vriende Van Afrikaans (VVA), Stellenbosch; Tanja Hadeveld and Gerhard Van Wyk, Bureau van die Woordeboek van die Afrikaanse Taal (WAT), Stellenbosch. * Belgian linguist: Prof. (Emeritus) Willy Van Langendonck, Univ. of Louvain (Leuven). * French linguist: Jean Rigouste, UTL, Bergerac and SFO, Paris. * SA onomasticians: Prof. Bertie Neethling, Univ. Bellville, and NSA; Prof. Adrian Koopman, Univ. of KZN and chairman of NSA, Pietermaritzburg, Member SFO, Paris; Prof. Theodorus Du Plessis, Univ. Free State, at Bloemfontein, and NSA; Dr. Peter Raper, NSA. * French commercial entities: Corinne Goascoz, contact person of Intercoiffure France.

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References Bessis, P. and M. Bessis. 2001. Name-Appeal, Créez des noms qui marquent. Paris: Village Mondial. Boshoff, S.P.E., and G.S. Nienaber. 1967. Afrikaanse etimologieë. Pretoria: Die Suid-Afrikaanse Akademie vir wetenskap en kuns. Bosman, Prof. Dr. D.B., Prof. I.W. Van Der Merwe and L.M. Hiemstra (M.A.). 1969. Tweetalige Woordeboek Afrikaans-Engels/EngelsAfrikaans. Kaapstad/Bloemfontein/Jonhannesburg: Nasionale Boekhandel Bpk. Bryant, Dr. (Lit.) A.T. 1971. An Abridged English-Zulu WordBook/Incwadi Yabantu Yamazwt. Mariannhill: Mariannhill Mission Press. (Note: this 11th edition was first published in 1903. Alfred T. Bryant (London, 1865-London, 1953) was a Mariannhill Mission Missionary, in Zululand.) Cape Peninsula 2008/2009 Yellow Pages. 2008-2009. Durban (printed in): TDS Directory Operations (Pty) Ltd, Telkom SA Ltd. Cloete, A.E., A. Jordan, H.C. Liebenberg and H.J. Lubbe. 2003. Etimologiewoordeboek van Afrikaans (EWA). G.J. Van Wyk (tegniese redakteur). Stellenbosch: WAT (Bureau van die Woordeboek van die Afrikaanse Taal). Cloete, A.E., H.C. Liebenberg, H.J. Lubbe and A. Prinsoo. 2007. Etimologiewoordeboek van Afrikaans (EWA). G.J. Van Wyk (tegniese redakteur). Stellenbosch: WAT. Dauzat, A., J. Dubois and H. Mitterand. 1968. Nouveau dictionnaire étymologique et historique. Paris: Librairie Larousse. Dent, G.R. (compiled), and C.L.S. Nyembezi (ed.). 1964. Compact Zulu Dictionary: English-Zulu/Zulu-English. Pietermaritzburg: Shuter and Shooter. Johnson, S. 1818. Dictionary of the English Language, with Numerous Corrections and an Addition of Several Thousands Words. London: Todd editor. (Note: this edition of Johnson’s work (MCCCLV/1755) was done under the supervision of Todd’s sharp eye; reissued several times, it has been the precursor of Latham’s edition.) Jones, D. 1981. Everyman’s English Pronouncing Dictionary. London, Melbourne/Toronto: J. M. Dent & Sons, Ltd. Laurent, B. 2010. Nom de marque, nom de produit: sémantique du nom déposé. Paris: L’Harmattan. Loiterstein, E. 2009. Dictionnaire français-néerlandais/néerlandaisfrançais; Woordenboek Frans-Nederlands/Nederlands-Frans. Paris: Succès du Livre.

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Mansion, J.E. 1967. Harrap’s Shorter French and English Dictionary. Toronto and Vancouver: Clarke, Irwin & Company Ltd (in association with London, Wellington, Sydney: George Harrap & Company Ltd). Onions, C.T. 1983. The Oxford Dictionary of English Etymology. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Rateau, M.A. 1991. Les Huguenots d’Afrique austral. In Actes et Conférences du Congrès de Bordeaux. Bordeaux: Centre de Généalogie du Sud-Ouest and Fédération Française de Généalogie. —. 1998. Les étiquettes de vins sud-africains portant des noms français. Collection-mania 91 (may 1998). —. 2003. Immigration huguenote au Cap de Bonne-Espérance, 16701715: un héritage toponymique français mal connu. In Actes et Conférences du Congrès de Bordeaux. Bordeaux: Fédération Française de Généalogie/Centre de Généalogie du Sud-Ouest. Todd, H.J. 1763-1845. See under: Johnson. Van Langendonck, W. 2007. Theory and Typology of Proper Names. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter. —. 2012. Une hiérarchie toponymique anthropocentrique. Comparaison français-anglais. In Actes du Congrès de Rennes, “Défis de la toponymie synchronique. Structures, contextes et usages”/ “Challenges in synchronic toponymy. Structure, context and use,” Rennes 2 University, 22-23 March 2012. Forthcoming in 2013, with Rennes 2 University. Van Veen, Dr. P.A.E., and Dr. N. van der Sijs. 1989. Etymologisch woordenboek: De herkomst van onze woorden. Utrecht/Antwerpen: Van Dale Lexicografie. Von Wartburg, W. 1971. Evolution et structure de la langue française, 10th edition. Berne: A. Francke S.A.

COMMERCIAL NAMES IN FINNISH PUBLIC SPACE PAULA SJÖBLOM Introduction Urban areas around the world have grown from people’s need to exchange goods, services and information. Towns and cities have always been meeting places, marketplaces and traffic spaces (Gehl and Gemzøe 2000: 10). Although the circumstances concerning all three roles of cities have changed radically during the last two decades, they still are the main functions of urban public space. There would not be cities if people did not practise trade. Thus, traces of commercialism, such as signs and advertisements and the names on them, are an expected part of these places. The purpose of this chapter is to clarify the use of commercial names in contemporary Finnish public space. The focus will be on Turku, which is a city of ca. 180,000 residents on the south-western coast of Finland, but evidently, the same remarks could be made about almost any urban area in Finland. The research questions are: Where in public space do commercial names appear—and where do they not? What is the multimodal nature of commercial names in public space? What is special about the language of these names? And finally, how much does the commercial nomenclature in the public space of Turku resemble what can be seen in other European cities? There are different interpretations of public space, depending on the perspective from which we are looking at it (Kymäläinen 2009: 93). The notion of public space is usually understood materially and socially as an open area in an urban environment where all people can sojourn free of charge. Public space is generally built and maintained with public funds, as streets, parks, squares, libraries or waiting halls for public transport commonly are. However, the division of public and private spaces is problematic in a contemporary urban context. Also, privately owned areas, such as roofed shopping centres, airport transit halls or private amusement parks, can be considered as public space. The authorities must maintain urban spaces, and a combination of public and private funding is often the

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solution to acquire resources to build accessible, attractive public spaces (Gaventa 2006: 11; Kymäläinen 2009: 101-102; Iveson 2011: 155-156) A broader meaning of the concept of public space includes all the places where anybody can go even if one is supposed to pay (such as cafés, shops and parking garages). These places are often called semipublic: the private owner has the right to decide what one is allowed to do there. As a matter of fact, many researchers have recently begun to speak about the end of public space and its conversion to semi-public space. Nevertheless, public and private spaces do overlap (Ridell et al. 2009: 1516). It should also be noted that in Finland, as in other Nordic countries, the concept of public space is not restricted to city areas, because all areas in nature are considered public space as well. Everybody has the right to access any forest, swamp or water area that is not a homeowner’s front or back yard (Ministry of Environment 2012). There has been increasing criticism on the privatisation of public space in the Western world (see, e.g., Klein 2001 Iveson 2011). According to Herzog (2006: 5), many researchers have pointed out that, at least in America, the traditional idea of public space is becoming obsolete and people are no longer interested in the spaces between buildings or other places. Even though urban dwellers travel through some space, they are less aware or less dependent on its content. That is why Herzog (ibid.: 223) exhorts to rethink the concept of public space and to ponder what is public and what is private in contemporary cities: in point of fact, companies and authorities increasingly decree on the use of all kinds of spaces (see also Iveson 2011: 161-162). Herein, the notion of public space is limited to the urban landscape and covers public-funded and open-to-all places including streets, squares and parks as well as public buildings such as libraries, hospitals and universities. I will highlight some examples on how commercial names appear in these places. The research method is exclusively qualitative and the name data will not be calculated. The concept commercial name includes both company names and product names; many of them will also be termed as brands, i.e., names providing surplus value for customers. The standpoints of this study are also slightly connected to recent research on linguistic landscapes (see, e.g., Edelman 2010: 7-11).

Commercial names in the City of Turku The appearance of commercial names in the urban landscape is naturally interrelated with outdoor advertising. According to Iveson (2011: 151), there has been a significant change in the quantity and form of urban

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advertising in the last two decades. Advertisements do not only lie on billboards and shop signs, but also on station walls, bus stop shelters, buses, taxis, private cars, litter bins, paper bags, in university buildings, lifts, parking garages etc. Furthermore, static signs are giving way to video screens and, in the future, technical development will offer even more multifaceted ways for grabbing people’s attention (ibid.: 157). In Turku, the most salient commercial names in the city area are company names: names of shops, restaurants, cafés, banks, insurance companies, hairdressers and other service enterprises. These names can be seen on building walls and windows at street level or upper floors, on roofs, doors and sun blinds, on signs sticking out from the building, on movable stands on the street, and sometimes company names are also painted on the surface of the street (Sjöblom 2008: 353-354). In recent years, there has been a tendency to raise company names as high as possible on the roofs of blocks, often printed on flags (Figure 1). Another typical feature is that names of companies are arranged on one big wall, so that people can see what companies there are in a particular building (Figure 2). All in all, company names appear in the immediate vicinity of the buildings where the companies are located. Product names and brands, on the other hand, can mostly be seen on billboard advertisements in the streets. Bus stop shelters and litter bins are also employed as places for advertising. Residents can hardly avoid running into advertisements when walking about the city. Generally, advertisements consist of many elements: an image, headline, body text, slogan, contact information, but the most important part of an outdoor advertisement is undoubtedly the name—the brand (e.g., Korpus 2008). Many shops, department stores and other enterprises advertise products by displaying well-known brand names on their windows (Figure 3). Certain companies, such as electronics firms, bicycle sellers and other agent-type of businesses are likely to put known brands more exposed to view in comparison with their own company names (Sjöblom 2008: 374). Even pubs and bars often show beer brands quite visibly outdoors (Figure 4). There is a rather strict regulation in Finland to advertise alcohol, but, for instance, showing the name of a beer or wine on a restaurant window is permitted.

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Figure 1. Company names can also be seen on flags. (Photo: P. Sjöblom)

Figure 2. An example of a “wall of names” beside Turku Market Square. At the bottom, there is a video screen for advertising. The name of the local newspaper Turun Sanomat and the name of the hotel Sokos Hotel Hamburger Börs can be seen on the roofs of the buildings. (Photo: P. Sjöblom)

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Figures 3-4. Brand names on a department store window and in a bar window. (Photos: P. Sjöblom)

Commercial names cannot be seen only in their static form on building walls and other building parts or on billboards. They are also mobile on rotating pillars, on the sides of buses, taxis, vans, lorries and private cars. The public transport office and taxi entrepreneurs finance their operation with advertisements, among other things. Many companies and entrepreneurs have cars, vans and trucks with their logo or brand. All these vehicles go from place to place, spreading the knowledge of the names in public space. One must not forget that the names of many car brands, such as Ford, Chevrolet and Nissan, are seen on every single car of that marque. Company names also spread throughout the city via people who walk and carry their purchases in printed paper bags of the shops. Although most of the commercial names in Finnish public space can appear outdoors, in some cases, commercial names are also permitted to be seen in indoor public spaces. There are soda vending machines with large Coca Cola or Pepsi Cola logos at the railway and bus stations as well as in university buildings (Figure 5). There is a growing interest in getting financial support for Finnish universities by naming certain lecture halls or conference rooms after significant sponsors or brands, for instance, auditoria OP-Pohjola (a bank), Osuuskauppa (a trading company) and Elovena (an oat product brand) of Turku School of Economics at the University of Turku. These names are on signs outside the auditoria (Figure 6). On the other hand, libraries, hospitals and health care centres are quite free from commercialism and commercial names. It is worth mentioning that the city committee for toponyms in Turku does not approve of street names or other place names that include a commercial name. Only companies that no longer exist can receive a commemorative name. The street names Hellaksenkatu, Kivikartiontie and Crichtoninkatu contain names of the old companies Hellas (sweets, 1916-

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2006), Kivikartio (constructions, 1945-1985) and Crichton & Co (shipbuilding, 1863-1924), which, in their heyday, were an important part of the economic history of Turku.

Figure 5 (left). A soda vending machine in the entrance hall of Fennicum, one of the buildings of the University of Turku. (Photo: P. Sjöblom) Figure 6 (right). Elovena auditorium at Turku School of Economics, sponsored by Raisio company. (Photo P. Sjöblom)

Multimodal nature of commercial names The multimodal nature of names means that the interpretations of the expressions are facilitated not only by linguistic elements but also by other semiotic modes, such as image, sound and movement. All these modes are linked together in a sociocultural context. (For more about multimodality, see Kress and van Leeuwen 2001: 20-22.) According to Sjöblom (2008), commercial names in urban areas take advantage of the potential of multimodality. In the city centre of Turku, commercial names use different modes more often than in the small industrial areas located on the outskirts. The increasingly competitive environment requires companies to seek out new outdoor media technologies in order to engage the public (Iveson 2011: 157). New technologies enable the realisation of new ideas for catching not just the eye but also all the other senses. Because the important function of a commercial name is to convey a multitude of images, it is natural that different semiotic modes are brought into play (Sjöblom 2008: 352). The commercial names in an urban landscape can convey meanings not only by linguistic means—words and syntactic structure—but also by

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other semiotic resources: visual appearance (typography, colours and images), auditory elements (e.g., jingles on the radio), movement (e.g., animation, waving flags, moving lights) and sometimes even by the sense of touch, smell and taste as well (Sjöblom 2008: 355). The findings of this study and of the previous one (ibid.) prove that apart from linguistic features, visual elements are also essential in the commercial names that appear in the public space of Turku. Company names are displayed with large letters, bright colours are used, fonts are varied, and logos and logotypes (logo + picture as a part and parcel of it) cohere not only with the business concept but also with the environment. More often than not, one and the same company name appears on the wall, on the windows and on the door—maybe also on the roof (Figure 7).

Figure 7. The restaurant name Baan Thai is repeated three times. The letters of the logo are visually reminiscent of the letters of the Thai language. (Photo: P. Sjöblom)

The purpose of movement in commercial names is to catch one’s eye. Kinaesthetic elements have been used thus far quite seldom in Finnish public space, but flapping flags, for example, with company names on them are common. In the metropolises of the world, one can see many large screens showing video advertisements and animations of commercial names, but there are only a few of these in Finnish cities—perhaps due to economic reasons or because of the cultural atmosphere: city culture is fairly young in Finland. Most people have moved to cities only in the

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1960s and 1970s, and it takes time to get familiar with the pulse and stimuli of bigger cities. In cafés and shops, one can hear radio advertisements in which commercial names appear as aural elements. However, aural advertising cannot be experienced in the public space of Turku.

Multilingual landscape of commercial names Previous research has noted that the diversity of languages in city spaces has an informative as well as a symbolic function. It may provide information on the sociolinguistic structure of the place and it may be a symbol of the value and status of a certain language. Some studies emphasise the role of those people who concretely participate in the shaping of the linguistic landscape by their own language choices. The languages seen on signs can endorse the language power relations of the place, but they may also improve the status of some minority languages (Edelman 2010: 10, 14, 18). Turku is officially a bilingual city: the majority speaks Finnish, but there is a five per cent minority of Swedish-speaking residents. In addition to these two official languages, multitudes of other languages are spoken in the city. Eight per cent of the residents have some other language as a mother tongue, such as Russian, Somali, Estonian, Turkish or Chinese. The diversity of languages can also be seen in commercial names in present-day public space. There is a great deal of company names in Finnish, but many names display a mix of languages. Even though Finnish dominates the city space, it is remarkable—yet expected—how common English is (Figure 8). Swedish, as the other official language, occurs very seldom in a commercial name, which may suggest the subordinate position of Swedish in relation to the power of Finnish. Names in other languages, such as Chinese or Italian, may in some cases be of value to the speakers of these languages and improve their status or, in other cases, symbolise positive images connected to the countries in which these languages are spoken. Companies seem to favour not only Finnish-sounding and English names but also names that are international. Internationalism is a word that is understandable in many languages, including Finnish. For instance, kebab, pizza, club/klub, bar or café, as elements of company names, are quite familiar to all residents as well as to visitors from other countries. Moreover, names that include quasi words, i.e., words that are not of any known language, are common, e.g., Nordea (a Scandinavian bank), Feidia

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(a beauty salon), Kodak (a photography brand) and Koff (a Finnish beer brand) (Sjöblom 2006: 132-139; 2011: 362-363).

Figure 8. Many commercial names are in English, such as 6ZHHW6XUSULVH and :HDULW. (Photo: P. Sjöblom)

Commercial names and pan-European public space? Public space in Turku, as probably in all other cities and towns in Finland and in Europe, is full of commercial names. The primary function of names that appear alone is to indicate the location of companies in specific buildings and behind specific doors and windows, or to indicate the products and brands that can be purchased from these places. Commercial names can also be part of some text, which usually is an advertisement. In advertisements, commercial names may have different functions—they persuade consumers to make purchases, they provide information on the producer or product, they reveal who has paid for the advertisement—but all in all, their essential function is to trigger positive associations. When looking at the commercial nomenclature in public space, it is obvious that the city centre of Turku is quite reminiscent of any city centre in Europe. Global—or at least European—brands and companies are also visible in Turku: Zara, H&M, KappAhl, Carlings, SpecSavers, Subway, McDonald’s, Holiday Inn, Shell, Visa, Coca Cola, Marabou, Triumph, Duracell, Michelin etc., are all present in our public space. However, many Finnish company and brand names are in a leading position in the

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landscape. Some of them are international names, at least to some extent, such as Nokia, Marimekko, Stockmann, Hesburger, Fazer and Kone. However, many of them are mainly known only in Finland, such as Sokos, Siwa, Valio, Finlayson and Sampo. Even though well-known brands and companies—be they international or Finnish—are a visible part of public space, they do not make up the whole picture. There are even more commercial names that can be seen along the streets of Turku that are not familiar to most of the Finnish people. They can be very special to the residents of Turku because they are businesses and brands that are important as employers or as a part of the city image. These names make the public space of Turku very special and individual. Names such as Rosten (a bakery, the name includes a surname), Soitin-Laine (‘musical instrument’ + surname Laine), Wiklund (a department store, the name includes a surname), Pulssi (a private health care facility, ‘pulse’) and Muotikuu (a ladies’ fashion boutique, ‘fashion moon’) are not mere businesses that sell certain products, but they are also beloved by the city dwellers as important parts of the identity of their home town.

Concluding remarks To sum up, commercial names are an indivisible part of public space. They belong to the urban landscape, because one of the most important functions of cities is to practise trade. In Turku and in other Finnish cities, commercial names can be seen where businesses are located and in advertisements along the streets. It is quite rare to come across company names that stand for sponsorship, apart from the few lecture halls mentioned earlier or sports halls and fields, such as HK Areena (an ice hockey arena, named after the Finnish food company HK) and Veritas Stadion (a football stadium, named after an insurance company). Even more unusual—almost impossible—is to see commercial names on streetname signs or in other toponyms of the city. There is no reason to be concerned about the privatisation of public space in Finland—yet. Nevertheless, multimodal and multilingual commercial nomenclature reveal a changing world, invaded by technological devices in advertising and by new ways of drawing attention and penetrating people’s minds and a shrinking world, with a multitude of languages and cultures in a small local area. Turku, as a typical Finnish city, is also a typical European city, where the commercial nomenclature in public space feels at the same time familiar and international to all people, but also very local and special.

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References Edelman, L. 2010. Linguistic Landscapes in the Netherlands. A Study of Multilingualism in Amsterdam and Friesland. Utrecht: LOT. Gaventa, S. 2006. New Public Spaces. London: Mitchell Beazley. Gehl, J., and L. Gemzøe. 2000. New City Spaces. Copenhagen: Danish Architectural Press. Herzog, L.A. 2006. Return to the Center: Culture, Public Space, and City Building in a Global Era. Austin: University of Texass Press. Electronic book: http://site.ebrary.com/lib/uniturku/Doc?id=10273723 (accessed September 17, 2012). Iveson, K. 2011. Branded cities: outdoor advertising, urban governance, and the outdoor media landscape. Antipode 14 (1), 151–174. Wiley Online Library: http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/j.14678330.2011.00849.x/pdf (accessed September 19, 2012). Klein, N. 2001. No Logo. London: Flamingo. Korpus, E. 2008. Reklamiska. Guldäggsannonser 1975-2007 [Awardwinning advertisements 1975-2007]. Örebro: Örebro Universitet. Kress, G., and T. van Leeuwen. 2001. Multimodal Discourse: The Modes and Media of Contemporary Communication. London: Arnold. Kymäläinen, P. 2009. Kaupunkitaide ja julkisen tilan hetkittäiset käytöt [Urban art and occasional uses of public space]. In Julkisen tilan poetiikkaa ja politiikkaa, S. Ridell, P. Kymäläinen and T. Nyyssönen (eds.), 91-113. Tampere: Tampere University Press. Ministry of Environment: Right to roam. http://www.ymparisto.fi/default.asp?contentid=390547&lan=EN (accessed September 17, 2012). Ridell, S., P. Kymäläinen and T. Nyyssönen. 2009. Julkinen tila tänään— kuhinaa lomittuvilla rajapinnoilla [Public space today—a buzz in overlapping interfaces]. In Julkisen tilan poetiikkaa ja politiikkaa, S. Ridell, P. Kymäläinen and T. Nyyssönen (eds.), 7-38. Tampere: Tampere University Press. Sjöblom, P. 2006. Toiminimen toimenkuva. Suomalaisen yritysnimistön rakenne ja funktiot [English summary: A firm name’s job description. The structure and functions of Finnish company names]. Helsinki: Suomalaisen Kirjallisuuden Seura. —. 2008. Multimodality of company names. Onoma 43: 351-380.

BAXTER, GYPROC AND PASSE-VITE: DEONYMS FROM COMMERCIAL NAMES IN BELGIAN FRENCH AUDE WIRTH-JAILLARD

One of the phenomena that surprised us while writing the Dictionnaire des belgicismes (Francard et al. 2010) was the increased occurrence of deonyms. Among them, nearly half come from trade names (company names, brand names or product names). This chapter1 aims to study deonyms deriving from trade names. An attempt will be made to understand why these proper names have become common nouns, but also why they can be found today in the variety of French spoken and written in the French Community of Belgium, while they are not used much in the rest of the Francophone places and/or are absent from Standard French. To avoid too many references and too much confusion that may accompany them, we chose to study the selected examples individually, without grouping them by type. However, these observations are followed by a synthesis, which rounds up the various data, information or comments provided throughout this chapter.

Deonyms from trade names: Articles Unless otherwise stated, the definitions and information about the current development of these lexemes are taken from the corresponding entries in the Dictionnaire des belgicismes (and they are, of course, translated).

Auto-scooter/auto-skooter, masculine noun, sometimes feminine The word auto-scooter means a small electric car protected by a rubber bumper that is made to be driven in an enclosed space in a funfair. Here, 1

I am grateful to Amandine De Burchgraeve for her help in translating this study in English.

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the driver bumps with other cars. By extension, in the plural form, this word means the whole fairground attraction. This word’s productivity is high and steady in Wallonia and in Brussels. The word is also attested sporadically in France, notably in Alsace (Rézeau 2007: 80-81). Its synonym in Standard French is auto tamponneuse, which is also known in French-speaking Belgium. However, it is less used. The origin and history of this lexeme can be established with precision (Wirth-Jaillard, forthcoming). Its etymon is Auto Skooter, the name given to a model of bumper cars produced by Lusse Brothers Inc. (Philadelphia) starting with the late 1920s. The first written attestation of this lexeme in French is dated to 1934, to a Belgian legal document. The word occurs frequently in Belgian texts thereafter. With regard to France, the word does not appear to have ever been used extensively. Several reasons may account for the fact that this proper noun became a common noun. The first one is that the product name seems to have never been trademarked (Wirth-Jaillard, forthcoming: 6). Some manufacturers seized the opportunity to use it and even put it in the names of their own products, as one can see in the various articles and photographs found on the Internet. Thus, Auto-skooter is a term that can be found not only on the models manufactured by the Lusse Brother Company, but also on those made by other manufacturers. The name can be spotted on fairground attractions and on tokens as well. Therefore, this item, either as a product name or as a common noun, can frequently be encountered in the context of this type of fairground attraction. One can also give the following explanation for its continual use in contemporary vocabulary. The construction of auto-skooter seems clear enough in French. Indeed, this word can be analysed as a compound noun formed with auto and scooter. Auto, a feminine noun meaning ‘car,’ is attested from the late nineteenth century (FEW 25, 1148a, AUTÓS). The fact that auto-scooter is sometimes feminine leads us to think that these two words may have been linked in some cases. As for the masculine noun scooter ‘small two-wheeled motor vehicle,’ it appeared in French in 1919 (TLFi). However, this kind of vehicle was not widespread until the 1950s (http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scooter), a period when the first attestations of auto-scooter appeared, spelt with “c” not “k” (Wirth-Jaillard, forthcoming: 9). The influence of the lexeme scooter on auto-scooter may be dated to the post-war period and not to the 1930s-early 1940s, when it was still not widespread. Therefore, it is likely that the word scooter influenced the conservation of this deonym in French and not its entry in the language, since this happened earlier.

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Why is this lexeme used much more in Belgium than in France nowadays? Probably because it is often considered as an Anglicism, especially in dictionaries (Wirth-Jaillard, forthcoming: 2). In Standard French, this kind of words are most of the time excluded. Therefore, autotamponneuse was preferred to the word auto-scooter, which remains in use in Belgian French. The fact that autoscooter is also used in Dutch may have facilitated the preservation of this word in Belgium.

Autosécurité/auto-sécurité, masculine noun The lexeme autosécurité means two things: the technical inspection of motor vehicles provided by an agency approved by the Service public fédéral Mobilité et Transports and the building that houses the inspection of motor vehicles. The vitality of this word is low but steady. It is principally used in eastern and southern Wallonia (the provinces of Liège and of Luxembourg), but it is also more and more used in the centre of Wallonia. Its equivalent in Standard French is contrôle technique, also used in French-speaking Belgium. The etymon of this lexeme is the name of a company of technical control created in 1938, Autosécurité (http://www.autosecurite.be/FR/ Commun/a-propos/historique.php), which began its activity in the province of Liège and expanded it in the province of Luxembourg and, later on, in the provinces of Namur and Walloon Brabant. In texts, the first attestations of this noun used as a lexeme dates to the 1950s: Attendu que si le fait de l’acceptation de l’appareil par “L’Auto Sécurité” permet de dire que l’on pouvait mettre en circulation des appareils du genre de celui qui a occasionné l’accident, il n’en résulte nullement que l’appareil lui-même n’était affecté d’aucun vice caché [...] (Bulletin des assurances 1950: 235).

However, it was not until the second half of the 1960s that it was converted, notably by losing the initial capital letter. Thus, it occurred with the spelling autosécurité and auto-sécurité in texts in connection with the Liège region: Absence de nouvelle convocation de l’auto-sécurité L’automobiliste, qui se trouve dans l’impossibilité de répondre à une convocation de l’auto-sécurité parce que sa voiture est en révision, ne commet pas d’infraction de rouler avec un véhicule non muni du certificat requis [...]. (Revue de droit pénal et de criminologie 46/1966: 1052)

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De même un long supplément de trajet pour mener son véhicule dans les locaux de l’autosécurité [...]. (Revue belge de sécurité sociale 11/1969: 1250)

The conversion of the proper noun into an item of the common vocabulary during the second half of the 1960s must be related to the fact that at the same time the technical inspection of cars became compulsory (Royal Decree of March 15, 1968). Thus, this proper name entered the vocabulary when speakers were forced by law to make wider use of the company. The fact that the name of the company was clear (auto and sécurité) and even looked like any compound noun directly formed in the vocabulary may have facilitated its implantation in the vocabulary. As for its distribution, it has to be linked to the development and the increasing expansion of the company bearing this name.

Balatum, sometimes ballatum, masculine noun The word balatum means a waterproof floor, made of felt cardboard coated with asphalt. By extension, it also refers to linoleum. While the vitality of this word is currently high, it is decreasing in both Wallonia and Brussels. This trend is linked to the gradual disappearance of the product, due to its replacement by vinyl. It is recorded sporadically in France, where balatum also disappears. Balatum is also used in Standard Dutch. Balatum is originally a brand name. The coating so named was created and has been manufactured since 1924 at the Papeteries de Genval (province of Walloon Brabant). Its first written attestations are from 1926: De plus, le Collège estime qu’il est préférable de prévoir du linoleum au lieu de balatum pour les planchers de l’étage. (Bulletin des commissions royales d’art et d’archéologie 1926: 66) La Commission royale a attiré l’attention de M. le Ministre des Sciences et des Arts sur le fait qu’un industriel, M. Lannoy, directeur et administrateur des Papeteries de Genval a construit sans autorisation, diton, des ateliers ou plutôt une fabrique de papiers peints et d’un produit nommé “Balatum,” dans la vallée si pittoresque de la Lasne, à Genval. (ibid.: 77)

Note that in this publication balatum appears both as a common noun (“au lieu de balatum”) and, a few pages later, as a product name (“un produit nommé ‘Balatum’”). The history of balatum—and of other coatings of this kind—is not without interest. Linoleum is one of the oldest modern types of flooring. It

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was patented in 1863 in England. Its name comes from the brand name Linoleum, a word that derives from the Latin linum ‘linen’ and oleum ‘oil.’ The product is composed of jute coated with a mixture of cork powder, linseed oil, rubber and resin. The balatum was invented in 1924. Originally, it was felt cardboard coated with asphalt. In the aftermath of the Second World War, the (sol) vinyle appeared, also called revêtement de sol PVC, as it is produced from this type of material. Because of its variety of models, colours and low cost, it became a tremendous success and it eclipsed linoleum. Therefore, the three words—linoleum, balatum and vinyle—originally pertained to three very different types of flooring. Yet, while this distinction is still often made by professionals (and by general dictionaries for linoleum), in common usage it is generally not made any more. Linoleum took the meaning of vinyle and often both of them are used to designate PVC coverings. One can even say that linoleum sometimes has the connotation “low-end.” Another brand name—newer and less common—is currently undergoing lexicalisation: Marmoleum, formed from Latin marmor ‘marble’ and linoleum, because it originally designated a variety of linoleum (its first meaning) with marbled aspect. The craze for green, environmental products sparked a renewed interest for original linoleum and its natural components (jute, flax oil, etc.). However, linoleum took the meaning of vinyle and therefore developed a negative connotation (petroleum-based, non-recyclable, etc.). Thus, marmoleum will probably acquire the old meaning of linoleum, regardless of the marbled or non-marbled appearance of the product. That the proper noun Balatum—like Linoleum and now Marmoleum— entered the vocabulary is primarily due to the fact that it designated a new product. Moreover, the final -um, evoking a Latin final syllable, gave the impression of seriousness and product quality. Its higher frequency in Belgium is probably because the product was invented in Belgium, which allowed it to be more easily distributed throughout its country of origin.

Baxter, masculine noun A baxter is a ‘vial of serum for drip irrigation.’ By extension, the word also refers to the medical device used to make a drip and the drip itself. The vitality of this word is high and steady in both Wallonia and Brussels and the word is also in use in the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg. While in Flemish the lexeme has the same meanings, Standard Dutch uses the words infuus and infuusfles instead. In Standard French, the equivalent of

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baxter is perfusion, abbreviated perf in the language used in hospitals. However, the word is gaining ground in French-speaking Belgium. The etymon of this lexeme is the brand name Baxter, which comes from the name of Don Baxter, an American physician who developed and patented the method to mass-produce and package sterile intravenous fluids. In 1931, he founded Don Baxter Inc., a company dealing with the manufacture and marketing of such pouches (http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/ Donald_E._Baxter). In French, Baxter (with a capital) first appeared in medical literature in the late 1940s in Belgium and in the early 1950s in France: Un Baxter de 500 cc. de sang fut installé, débitant 100 cc. par heure. (Acta chirurgica belgica 47/1948: 472) Craignant d’intervenir à cause de son grand âge, nous mesurons son volume sanguin juste avant et juste après une transfusion de 650 cc. de sang conservé depuis sept jours dans un Baxter contenant du mélange citrate de soude, acide citrique, dextrose. (Lyon chirurgical 45/1950: 981)

In Belgium, the capital letter disappeared in the early 1950s but only later in France: Après l’injection de ce produit, l’aiguille est immédiatement reliée à nouveau au baxter de citrate ; de cette façon, l’aiguille peut être laissée en permanence dans l’artère jusqu’au développement du cliché […]. (Livre jubilaire: 1925-1950: XXVème anniversaire de sa fondation. Bruxelles 1951: 109) Utiliser de l’eau bidistillée stérile en baxter pour la préparation des solutions tampons […]. (Schiltz P., Vademecum du préparateur en pharmacie. Paris: Maloine, 1969: 36)

Why has this brand name entered the vocabulary? Probably because the name appears on the Baxter bags since their invention (see the image at: http://www.1914-1918.be/soigner_perfusion.php) and, since the object was new, a clear way to describe it had to be found. Therefore, it is the brand name that was used to refer to all bottles of this type, regardless of the solution contained, because it was always the same brand name on all these bottles. The reason why this lexeme is so frequently used in Belgium, while it is only seldom used in France, is that the brand name Baxter is still on the bottles and this could be what helps maintain this name in the vocabulary of Belgium. In Standard French the term perfusion is preferred, most likely because baxter was interpreted as an Anglicism. In Belgium, the use of baxter in the Flemish region may have contributed to the preservation

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of this word in French. Today, the Baxter Company is widely present in Belgium, which makes the business and its name familiar to the Belgians.

Éternit, feminine noun The word éternit refers to a building material consisting of cement mixed with fibres, mainly used for roofing and facades. By metonymy, this word is also used for a concrete slab. Its vitality is high and stable, both in Wallonia and in Brussels. Its equivalent in Standard French, fibrociment, is also used in French-speaking Belgium, but by building professionals. Despite its absence from dictionaries of everyday French, éternit is sometimes used in France. The etymon of this lexeme is the name given by the Austrian industrialist Ludwig Hatschek to the product he created in 1900. It is inspired by Latin eternitas, to emphasise the durability of the material. The Belgian industrialist Alfonso Emsens used it for the name of the company he founded in Haren (Brussels) in 1905, the Eternit SA, after having bought the patent to manufacture it from its inventor (http://www. etexgroup.com/1905-1990-growth-belgian-eternit). The first written attestations of éternit without capitals appear very early, before 1910, in Belgium: Le nom d’éternit a été donné à une sorte d’ardoise artificielle dont l’invention date de quelques années […]. (Monographies industrielles: aperçu économique, technologique et commercial. Construction des machines et appareils électriques, Bruxelles: J. Lebègue et al., 1908: 77)

It should be noted that in France, there also exists a common name from a brand name that is used to describe this material, fibrociment. It appeared in the vocabulary at the beginning of the twentieth century, in French texts—sometimes with quotation marks—with the spelling fibrociment or fibro-ciment. The arrival on the market of the new product and its success demanded that it be named. In Belgium, the preference was for éternit, while in France fibrociment was promoted. This distribution mirrors the distribution areas that correspond to these two brands.

Frigolite, feminine noun The word frigolite refers to polystyrene, which is commonly used as thermal insulation or as packaging and, more rarely, as decorative support. The vitality of this word is high and steady in Wallonia and Brussels. Its

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equivalent in Standard French is polystyrène, known in French-speaking Belgium, where it belongs to the technical vocabulary, unlike frigolite, which is widely used outside professional circles. The etymon of frigolite is the brand name Frigolith. Polystyrene was invented in the 1940s, but the proper name Frigolith does not seem to appear until the first half of the 1960s, while Frigolite and frigolite are first attested in the 1960s in France and Belgium (see Google Books). It is probably because a new product had to be named that the brand name was chosen. But unlike other deonyms from brand names, the spelling changed. Between Frigolith and frigolite, the idea of stone disappeared (Greek lithos, as in the French nouns mégalithe and monolithe), and the meaning of the suffix -ite appears: “ce suffixe savant, d’un emploi assez varié, tire son origine de différentes terminaisons grecques ou grécolatines” [this erudite suffix, quite variously used, comes from different Greek or Greek-Latin endings] (Nyrop 1936: 167, my translation); “[il] a été utilisé dans de nombreuses créations nouvelles appartenant surtout au langage technique” [it was used in many new creations belonging mainly to technical language] (ibid.); notably, “ite (de -ȚIJȘȢ) sert dans la nomenclature minéralogique et chimique” [-ite (from -ȚIJȘȢ) is used in the mineralogical and chemical nomenclature] (ibid.), as in anthracite, graphite and chalcite. The idea that was conveyed by the original name Frigolith—the idea of a material equivalent to stone to fight against the cold—is extended in the French spoken in Belgium to the idea of a technical material.

Frisko, masculine noun A frisko is a chocolate-coated vanilla ice cream on a stick. The vitality of this word is high and steady, both in Wallonia and Brussels. It is also used in Belgian Dutch (Flemish). Its equivalent in Standard French is esquimau, very rarely used in this sense in the French-speaking Belgium. The etymon of this lexeme is the brand name Frisko, introduced by the Belgian firm Artic in the 1950s (http://www.dhnet.be/infos/societe/article/ 125285/indemodable-frisko-artic.html). However, the first written attestations of the common name appear only much later (Bal et al. 1994: 69). This proper noun appears in the vocabulary probably because it was suggestive. Frisko indeed evokes in French words of the family of froid and the adjective frisquet ‘slightly cool or cold enough,’ and the adjective fris ‘fresh’ in Dutch. This aspect can be linked to the dissemination of the brand, which was important in Belgium, whereas in the other Francophone areas, other brands were more usual.

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Gyproc, masculine noun The word gyproc is used to designate a coating material consisting of an inner core of combustible plaster coated on both sides with highly resistant cardboard, which is used for the production of partitions, walls and ceilings. The vitality of the word gyproc is high and steady in Wallonia and Brussels. This term is also used in the French of Quebec, while Belgian Dutch (Flemish) uses the form gyproc(plaat) (in Standard Dutch gipsplaat). Standard French uses placoplatre (informal placo), which is infrequently used in Belgian French outside professional circles. This lexeme comes from the trademark name Gyproc, which appears in the 1920s in publications in English from Canada and the USA. It is a contraction of the English words rock gypsum ‘gypsum,’ of which building plates are made. In Europe, the use of these plates was developed after the Second World War, at the time of the reconstruction. The common noun gyproc is attested in the 1930s in texts from Quebec: Les panneaux de gyproc ont été fixés à fer et à clou aux cadres ou encadrements des fenêtres […]. (Les recueils de jurisprudence du Québec: Cour du banc du roi (en appel) 1/1938: 429)

In Belgium, the first written attestations are recent. In France, its synonym, placoplatre, appears in texts in the early 1950s: “une feuille de placoplâtre” (Mémoires de la société des ingénieurs civils de France 1950: 92). It is worth noting that the formation of this word resembles that of gyproc. Placoplatre is, in fact, a trademark owned by the Saint-Gobain brand, filed at the Institut national de la propriété industrielle. Therefore, in France and Belgium, the etymon of this material is also a brand name. This is probably because the product was not previously distributed under a generic name. Thus, the brand name of the product was used to describe it. The names are distinct in different countries, because the brand Gyproc was more usual in Belgium, while in France Placoplatre had more success.

Passe-vite, masculine noun A passe-vite is a kitchen utensil used to crush vegetables to prepare soups and purées. The vitality of this word is average and decreasing in Wallonia and Brussels. This word is also used in the Nord-Pas-de-Calais and French-speaking Switzerland. It is also used in Belgian Dutch. In

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Standard French its equivalent is moulin à légumes, little used in Frenchspeaking Belgium. Originally, passe-vite was a trademark, registered in 1928 (and in 1929 internationally) by the Belgian inventor of the utensil, Victor Simon, from Morlanwelz (the province of Hainaut). This utensil was made in Belgium. The first attestations of the lexeme in texts are from the 1960s. Several reasons explain the dissemination and the endurance of this term in Belgium. Firstly, the brand name appeared on some models. Secondly, this name is clear and easy to remember. Thirdly, the utensil was produced in Belgium; thus, its distribution should be widespread in this country. The fact that this term is also found in Belgian Dutch helps one to understand this dissemination. Passe-vite did not have the same vitality in the French of France, where moulin à légumes is used. The story behind it is worth telling, because it has affected the development of language as regards the two terms in question. In 1932, the French industrialist Jean Mantelet invented the vegetable mill and patented it on February 16, 1932 before starting to sell it in fairs. Being awarded at the Concours Lépine, he began mass production and the utensil was an immediate success: 2 million copies were sold between 1933 and 1935. The company Moulin-Légumes was born from this invention (http://60ans.inpi.fr/le-moulin-legumes-de-jeanmantelet-1932/). As a result, an infringement lawsuit was filed in 1938 by Victor Simon and Richard Denis. Nevertheless, Le 2 mai 1947, la cour de Dijon donne raison à la société MoulinLégumes, et estime, que, faute d’avoir été exploité en France avant le 23 avril 1932, le brevet de Victor Simon est frappé de déchéance. Leur action en contrefaçon est irrecevable. Moulin-Légumes peut vivre. [On May 2, 1947, the court of Dijon ruled in favour of Moulin-Légumes Company, finding that Victor Simon’s patent lapsed because it had not been valid in France before 23 April 1932. Their infringement action is not admissible. Moulin-Légumes can live on] (DESS Gestion du Patrimoine Immatériel de l'Entreprise, 2001, Axelle Heurard and Sarah Brébion, intitled Le moulin à legumes, http://passevite.free.fr/m%8Emoire/Page7.html).

In texts, moulin-légumes appeared in the early 1940s. Moulin à légumes became quickly much more common. As for passe-vite, the fact that the meaning of this word was obvious certainly contributed to its diffusion in the vocabulary. The distribution of these two lexemes is the consequence of the dissemination of these two brand names and companies. Had entrepreneurs

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Simon and Denis won their case, passe-vite might have been used in Standard French.

Weck, masculine noun A weck is a glass jar used for canning. Its lid has a sealing rubber gasket. The vitality of this word is average but decreasing in the provinces of Namur, Liege and Luxembourg. It is infrequently used elsewhere in Wallonia and Brussels. This fact can be compared with the progressive abandonment of the preparation of canned vegetables at home. The etymon of the lexeme weck is the brand name Weck, the name of a company—that made jars—founded in 1900 in Öflingen (southern BadenWürttemberg) by Johann Carl Weck (1841-1914) and Georg van Eyck (http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Johann_Carl_Weck). This brand name was not converted only in the French vocabulary. Since 1906, in German, the verb einwecken is used by the Weck company (Köster 2003: 42) and in the following year it entered the Duden dictionary as a synonym for einkochen ‘to make preserves’ (http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Johann_Carl_ Weck). This proper noun entered the vocabulary and stayed in it, because it appeared and still appears on the actual jars, but also on the equipment for sterilisation: The components were constantly improved: the preserve jars and canning devices, the rubber rings, the thermometers and the ancillary equipment— everything under the name WECK® with its strawberry logo. WECK® became Germany’s first brand [...]. (Renneberg 2011: 50)

It can be found in advertisements too, but also on and in the book entitled Le Livre WECK® de la stérilisation, which is still available. This shows that the products of this brand are widespread in Francophone countries. We can also note that the areas with –Š‡greatest diffusion of the lexeme weck in Belgium are the provinces of Namur, Liege and Luxembourg, while the word is little used elsewhere in Wallonia and Brussels. It is to be noted that these provinces correspond to the part of Belgium that is the closest to Germany. This closeness could be said to have facilitated both the diffusion of the products of this brand and its conversion into the common lexicon. At the same time, one might be surprised that the word cannot be found in the French of north-eastern France, notably in Alsace. This is probably because the French spoken in this region already has a masculine noun weck(e) meaning ‘bun’ (Rézeau 2007: 611), attested since 1852. Therefore, weck meaning ‘jar’ did not enter the vocabulary.

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Synthesis These are, of course, just a few examples among many others, which obviously have no quantitative value, but instead have some qualitative worth. Overall, several observations can be made, not before noting that it is often difficult to know precisely what motivates the development of a proper name into a common name. Only a few contemporaries are aware of the problem and take the trouble to write it down, so as to be able to keep track of such changes. In the cases we studied, we can only guess, since there is no evidence to rely on. However, we can formulate some general ideas. The entry of names into the vocabulary often follows the invention or the use of products so named. Speakers, who have to designate the products they use, do it in the easiest way possible, by employing the product or brand name that appears on the object or on its packaging. This choice has the merit of clarity. When the rate of use of the object declines, the word itself is gradually abandoned, as is the tendency with other items of the vocabulary as well. In the case of weck, for instance, we did not notice any semantic shifts that could have led to the conservation of this lexeme in the language. We may also note that many deonyms that could be interpreted as Anglicisms are present in Belgian French but absent from the French spoken in France. This may be due to the rejection of Anglicisms, which were substituted with other terms. French speakers may also have chosen to internalise the rejection, by avoiding the usage of the words without any official prescription. There is one other fact that can account for the increased occurrence of deonyms in Belgian French. Brand or products names can be given both in French and Belgian Dutch, which establishes a name as a kind of koinè between the two languages. It happens so for the obvious reason of general mutual understanding, but also, for example, for advertising. Another point must be emphasised. Our vision is perhaps not entirely unbiased. Admittedly, these deonyms are absent from dictionaries of general French. This is not to say that all are unknown to Standard French, but that, perhaps, not all are “pure” Belgicisms: some of them may also be used in France but have not yet been identified. This is due to the fact that the study of regionalisms is less extensive in France than in Belgium, except for some regions (including Alsace, cf. Rézeau 2007). Therefore, only further research on the French spoken in France would clarify things.

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References Bal, W., A. Doppagne, A. Goosse, † J. Hanse, M. Lenoble-Pinson, † J. Pohl et al. 1994. Belgicismes. Inventaire des particularités lexicales du français en Belgique. Louvain-la-Neuve: Duculot. FEW = Wartburg, W. von. 1922-2002. Französisches Etymologisches Wörterbuch. Eine darstellung des galloromanischen sprachschatzes. 25 vol. Bonn/Berlin/Bâle: Fritz Klopp/B. G. Teubner/Zbinden. Francard, M., G. Geron, R. Wilmet and A. Wirth. 2010. Dictionnaire des belgicismes. Bruxelles: De Boeck. Köster, R. 2003. Eigennamen im deutschen Wortschatz. Berlin: W. de Gruyter. Nyrop, K. 1936 (1908). Grammaire historique de la langue française. Tome troisième: formation des mots. Copenhague: Gyldendalske Boghandel. Renneberg, R. 2011. Who Cloned My Cat? Fun Adventures in Biotechnology. Singapore: Pan Stanford Publishing Pte Ltd. Rézeau, P. 2007. Dictionnaire des régionalismes du français en Alsace. Strasbourg: Presses universitaires de Strasbourg. TLFi = CNRS, Université Nancy 2 and ATILF. 2004. Trésor de la langue française informatisé. Paris: CNRS Éditions. (Also online: http://stella.atilf.fr/). Wirth-Jaillard, A. (Forthcoming). Et si on faisait un tour d’auto-scooter? Le traitement étymologique du lexème auto-scooter dans les ouvrages lexicographiques. Belgisch tijdschrift voor filologie en geschiedenis² Revue belge de philologie et d’histoire 90 (3).

SECTION TWO: NAMES OF RELIGIOUS INSTITUTIONS (PLACES OF WORSHIP) AND CULTURAL ASSOCIATIONS

NAMES OF ROMANIAN PLACES OF WORSHIP OLIVIU FELECAN AND NICOLAE FELECAN

Just as most public buildings or some houses (those in Malta, for instance) are individualised through a name, it is a general characteristic that places of worship bear a name.1 This is why every church, monastery, skete,2 or any other establishment which is “equipped with an altar”3 and in which a religious activity takes place regularly, can be individualised by means of a title. It is traditional for churches or monasteries to be “patronised by a saint” (or by a sacrament) that acts as the guardian of the holy place and the people that attend it. This is where the name of title comes from (Rom. hram < Old Slavic hramǎ ‘house, home’), which relates to the “titular saint of a Christian church” and, by extension, to the “celebration of the titular saint of a church in a divine service” (MDA I: 1089, orig. Romanian).4 Along with the consecration of a church and due to the belief in the power of names, the name in the title of a religious edifice becomes its spiritual protector; the act of naming is symbolically equivalent to that of commending a person to his/her Guardian Angel through baptism. The present chapter—which continues some previous concern shown for names in religious space (Felecan 2010: 193-208)—aims at analysing certain aspects regarding the attribution of a patron saint to a religious establishment and, implicitly, some names of Romanian churches and monasteries of several religious denominations (Christian Orthodox, 1

The present study is part of a more consistent research made within Onomastics in Contemporary Romanian Public Space: Socio- and Psycholinguistic Research, a project funded by CNCS in the “Human Resources” PN II programme, designed for the stimulation of young independent research teams, TE (code 3, contract number 57/2010, project manager: Associate Professor Oliviu Felecan). 2 “A skete is a monastic style community that allows relative isolation for monks” (Skete, Wikipedia: online). It is midway between the strict, ascetic lifestyle of hermits and communal lifestyle. 3 Information provided by His Grace Vasile, Bishop of the Eparchy of Maramureú of the Romanian Church United with Rome. 4 The quotations that are originally in Romanian (marked as “orig. Romanian”) were translated by the authors of the present study.

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Greek Catholic, Roman Catholic and others). This topic presents great interest of late and it has been so far almost completely ignored in specialised studies (e.g., Sawyer and Simpson 2001: 302-307; Van Langendonck 2007: 220; Vaxelaire 2005: 360). A website affiliated to the Romanian Orthodox Church (Despre hramul bisericii: online) mentions that “the moment when a church is consecrated by a bishop, it receives a name that becomes its patronage”. Nevertheless, the answers recorded in the sociolinguistic questionnaire applied to higher officials of confessions that exist in northwestern Romania, but also to priests that have founded churches, contradict the aforementioned statement. Names of churches are not given in an ad hoc way, mainly because they are built to last for at least a few hundreds of years. Therefore, names of churches cannot be compared to first names, names of firms, public institutions and NGOs, which are defined by an ephemeral existence. Father Simion Ilieú, vicar general of the Greek Catholic Eparchy of Maramureú in 2002-2011, states that “Depending on local customs, the community of believers chooses the title for a future sanctuary. A patron saint underlines a community’s special devotion to that saint who, in turn, protects both the faithful and the church,” and this is why the celebration of an edifice’s title plays an important role in laypersons’ lives. His Grace Iustin Sigheteanul, the vicar bishop of the Orthodox Diocese of Maramureú and Satu Mare, claims that “the giving of a title is imposed by the founder of a church or by the person that sponsored its building.”5 There are numerous such examples, among which one can find the case of Sf. Andrei (‘St Andrew’) Skete, from Bacău County, “founded in 1997 by a family of worshippers from Comăneúti, in memory of their son, Andrew, who had gone to God too young” (Ghidul: 191, orig. Romanian), or that of BerinĠa Monastery, in Maramureú County, which has a double title: Sf. Apostol Andrei (‘St Andrew the Apostle’) and Schimbarea la FaĠă (‘the Transfiguration of Jesus’). The latter religious establishment was “founded by the Mircea Rusu family, after the loss of their son [Andrew], aged 14. The construction began in 1997” (Ghidul: 225, orig. Romanian). The title of church or monastery is symbolically rendered by the icon of the patron saint (or saints), which is placed in the iconostasis on the right side of the altar, near the diaconal door and next to the Icon of Jesus Christ Pantocrator. Likewise, with fenced-in churches and monasteries, an icon of the patron saint can be put at their entrance. The title of a church is announced by a priest when the edifice is consecrated and then, year after year, on the divine service of its 5

Information recorded on June 28, 2012.

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celebration. If in the past the title did not occasion a significant holiday when believers from several localities could reunite (a proof in this respect is the fact that numerous churches in a county had the same title), nowadays things are different, to some extent, in the sense that there are situations when worshippers from other localities also take part in the celebration of a church’s title. Not infrequently, on the occasion of a re-consecration (e.g., due to renovation or reconstruction), a title could be changed once or several times. Thus, for instance, in 1386 the Pauline monastery in Alba Iulia (recorded from the thirteenth century) bore the title Sfânta Fecioară (‘the Holy Virgin’). In subsequent documents (1388), the patron saints noted are Sf. Ana úi Elisabeta (‘St Anne and Elizabeth’), or just Sf. Elisabeta (in 1395) (DM: 48). Other examples include - the Orthodox monastery in Partoú, Timiú County, recorded from 1571, bore the title Sf. Arhangheli Mihail úi Gavriil (‘St Archangels Michael and Gabriel’). After being renovated in 1750-1753, it received the title Adormirea Maicii Domnului (‘the Dormition of the Theotokos’) (DM: 201); - the Greek Catholic monastery in Strâmbu, Cluj County, founded by a nobleman in 1765, had in 1867 the title Sf. Arhangheli Mihail úi Gavriil, and in 1900, ÎnălĠarea Sf. Cruci (‘the Feast of the Cross’) (DM: 249); - Popânzăleúti Monastery, Dolj County, re-founded after 1992, with the titles Sf. Ierarh Calinic (‘Holy Hierarch Calinic’) and Sf. Nicolae (‘St Nicholas’), is re-consecrated by His Grace Nestor, who adds the title Sf. Parascheva (‘St Parascheva of the Balkans’) (Ghidul: 275). At other times, a place of worship can have two titles from the very beginning, as is the case of the Dominican monastery in Cluj, recorded from the thirteenth-fourteenth centuries, with the titles Sf. Fecioară (‘the Holy Virgin’) and Sf. Anton (DM: 105-106), or of the Orthodox Monastery of Sâmbăta de Sus, Braúov County, dating from the seventeenth century and bearing the titles Adormirea Maicii Domnului (‘the Dormition of the Theotokos’) and Izvorul Tămăduirii (‘the Life-giving Spring’) (DM: 225226), or of Valea Seacă Skete, Iaúi County: Sf. Mucenic Pantelimon (‘Holy Greatmartyr Panteleimon’) and Sf. Ierarh Dosoftei (‘Holy Hierarch Dosoftei’).

Orthodox places of worship The most numerous and oldest Orthodox houses of worship are in Moldova and Muntenia; they were built by rulers, dignitaries or rich noblemen. Like in Transylvania, many of the religious establishments in

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the two regions have suffered due to the passage of time and natural disasters. In time, some have been reconstructed, others were abandoned, while many are only known through certain toponyms: La Mănăstire (‘at the monastery’), Dealul Mănăstirii (‘the hill of the monastery’), Dealul Călugărului (‘the monk’s hill’), Mănăútur (from Rom. mănăstire ‘monastery’), Valea Mănăstirii (‘the valley of the monastery’) and so on. Later on, especially after the restoration of democracy in 1989, other monasteries were erected either exactly where the old ones used to stand or in their vicinity. The extant data show that most of the monasteries have kept their initial title, to which, in general, a second or even a third one was added. Other edifices have often been built nearby a given monastery—a newer church (bigger or smaller than the original one, of wood or stone), chapel, refectory or bell tower—, each of which can have a different title. Thus, Horia Skete, IalomiĠa County, has a monastery that bears the title Naúterea Maicii Domnului (‘the Birth of the Virgin Mary’), a chapel, Sfântul Spiridon, and a wooden church, Sfântul Grigorie Dascălu. In the monastic complex in Lepúa, Vrancea County, the main church is Naúterea Maicii Domnului, the chapel is called Sfânta Treime (‘the Holy Trinity’); the stone church is consecrated unto Izvorul Tămăduirii (‘the Life-giving Spring’) and Sf. Arhangheli Mihail úi Gavril, while the refectory is patronised by Sf. Teodosie de la Brazi (‘of Brazi’). It is only rarely that all of the buildings of a monastic community are devoted to the same patron saint: Crângu Monastery, Teleorman County, has both the monastery and the chapel patronised by Sfântul Cuvios Mucenic Galaction (‘Holy Righteous Martyr Galaction’) (Ghidul: 98). In relation to faith and sacraments, the names of Orthodox places of worship are indicative of - the devotion to Virgin Mary, in various forms: Sfânta Fecioară (‘the Holy Virgin’), Sfânta Maria (‘Holy Mary’), Intrarea Sfintei Fecioare în Biserică (‘the Entrance of the Holy Virgin in the Temple’), Intrarea în Biserică a Maicii Domnului (‘the Entrance in the Temple of the Theotokos’), Intrarea în Biserică (‘the Entrance in the Temple’), Naúterea Sfintei Fecioare Maria (‘the Birth of Mary, the Holy Virgin’), Naúterea Maicii Domnului (‘the Birth of the Theotokos’), Adormirea Maicii Domnului (‘the Dormition of the Theotokos’), Bunavestire (Buna Vestire) (‘the Annunciation’); - the Trinity of God (the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit): Preasfânta Treime (‘the All-Holy Trinity’), Sfânta Treime (‘the Holy Trinity’), Sfântul Duh (‘the Holy Spirit’), Naúterea Domnului (‘the Nativity of Our Lord’), Schimbarea la FaĠă (‘the Transfiguration’),

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Învierea Domnului (‘the Resurrection of Our Lord’), ÎnălĠarea Domnului (‘the Ascension of Our Lord’), ÎnălĠarea Sfintei Cruci (‘the Feast of the Cross’), Sfânta TroiĠă (‘the Holy Trinity’); - the calendar of saints: Sfânta Ana, SfinĠii Apostoli (Petru úi Pavel) (‘the Holy Apostles [Peter and Paul]’), Sfântul Arhanghel Gavril, Sfântul Dumitru, Sfântul Gheorghe, SfinĠii împăraĠi Constantin úi Elena (‘the Holy Great Sovereigns Constantine and Helen’), Sfântul Nicolae, Sfântul Vasile (cel Mare) (‘Saint Basil [the Great]’), ToĠi SfinĠii (‘All Saints’) and so on. Other name forms have been recorded recently, with reference to wellknown facts from the New Testament, such as: Duminica MironosiĠelor (‘the Sunday of the Myrrh-bearing Women’), Duminica Sf. Cruci (‘the Sunday of the Holy Cross’), Intrarea Domnului în Ierusalim (‘the Triumphal Entrance of Our Lord in Jerusalem’), Izvorul Tămăduirii (‘the Life-giving Spring’), Învierea lui Lazăr (‘the Rising of Lazarus’), Acoperământul Maicii Domnului (‘the Intercession of the Theotokos’), Maica Domnului de la Muntele Athos (‘the Theotokos on Mount Athos’), Veúmântul Maicii Domnului (‘the Robe of the Virgin Mary’). An ever increasing number of monasteries, sketes and churches have patrons from among Eastern or Romanian saints and righteous martyrs.6 However, a title of this kind is often the second or third one, while the first is a common one and proves that the religious establishment is old. When this is not the case, the new title, specific to the Eastern Orthodox area, is predominant: Duminica SfinĠilor Români (‘the Sunday of the Romanian Saints’), SfinĠii Atanasie úi Chiril, SfinĠii Martiri Brâncoveni (‘the Brâncoveanu Holy Martyrs’), Sf. Calinic de la Cernica (‘Saint Calinic of Cernica’), Sf. Dionisie Exiguul (‘Saint Dionysius Exiguus’),7 Sf. Ioan Casian, Cuvioasa Macrina (‘Righteous Macrina’), Cuviosul Pahomie cel Mare (‘Righteous Pahomie the Great’), Sf. ùtefan cel Mare (Sf. ùtefan cel Mare úi Sfânt/Binecredinciosul ùtefan cel Mare úi Sfânt/Sf. Voievod ùtefan cel Mare) (‘St Stephan the Great [St Stephan the Great and Holy/Faithful

6

A recent study provides the following information: “The Romanian Orthodox Synaxarium is a compilation of Greek (often Romanianised) names as well as of Slavic and Romanian ones, which was devised in such a manner that one cannot tell for sure which the origins of a certain saint are.” The most illustrative example is that of “the Serbian monk Visarion Visai, who was canonised under the name of Sfântul Cuvios Visarion Mărturisitorul” (‘Holy Righteous Visarion the Confessor’) (see Goje 2011: 75-76). 7 St Dionysius Exiguus lived between the year 470 and 545. He set the grounds of Christian chronology.

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Stephan the Great and Holy/St Voivode Stephan the Great]’), Sf. Varlaam, mitropolitul Moldovei (‘St Varlaam, Metropolitan of Moldova’).8 A particular situation is that of the Old-Rite Orthodox Church, most of whose houses of worship bear precisely this generic name. Such onomastic forms should be analysed in relation to the 1920s, when the Gregorian calendar was adopted in Romanian space. Those who did not accept it were called “stylists,” that is, followers of the old style (i.e., the Julian calendar).

Roman Catholic places of worship Although Romania is mostly Orthodox,9 there exist here numerous Catholic churches and monasteries. Those from Transylvania are older, due to the historical conditions of this land—which was first under Hungarian and then Austro-Hungarian rule. Catholic religious establishments can typically be found nearby (former) episcopal centres (Oradea, Alba Iulia, Cenad) or in settlements where Hungarians and Germans represent(ed) the majority: Braúov, Sibiu, Cluj. Over the years, many have disappeared or have suffered changes, “as a result of the Reform or by being turned into schools and gymnasiums” (DM: 23, orig. Romanian). There are about seventy Catholic monasteries recorded for the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries (DM: 9), most of which still function, under various monastic orders: Augustinian, Benedictine, Dominican, Franciscan, Joanite, Jesuit, Minorite, Pauline, Piarist, Premonstratensian, and so forth. In other parts of the country, Roman-Catholic churches belong to communities that are Catholic of yore or as a result of the area being colonised with Germans, Czechs and Poles (to name just a few), who were brought for ore/salt mining, activities that are pursued almost throughout the entire Romanian territory. A classification of Catholic places of worship according to their title reveals the following. Most of them relate to the divination of the Blessed Virgin, and the variety of names in this case is impressive indeed: Sfânta Fecioară (‘the Blessed Virgin’), Sfânta Fecioară Maria Regină (‘Blessed Virgin Queen Mary’), Sfânta Maria a Rozarului (‘Saint Mary of the Rosary,’ celebrated on October 8), Sfânta Maria a Zăpezii (‘Saint Mary of the Snow’), Sfânta Fecioară a Îngerilor (‘Saint Mary of the Angels’), 8

The first monastery devoted to St Varlaam, Metropolitan of Moldova, was the one in Bodeúti, NeamĠ County, founded in 1996 (Ghidul: 138). 9 According to the census of 2011, Romanians are Orthodox—85.9%, Roman Catholic—4.6%, Protestant—3.2%, Pentecostal—1.9%, Greek Catholic—0.8% and so on.

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Sfânta Fecioară Imaculată (‘the Blessed Virgin Immaculata’), Sfânta Maria (‘Blessed Mary’), Sfânta Maria Nigra (‘Blessed Maria Nigra’), Intrarea Sfintei Fecioare în Biserică (‘the Entrance of the Blessed Virgin in the Temple’), Intrarea în Biserică a Maicii Domnului (‘the Entrance of the Mother of God in the Temple’), Intrarea în Biserică (‘the Entrance in the Temple’), Prezentarea Sfintei Fecioare în Templu (‘the Presentation of the Blessed Virgin in the Temple’),10 Naúterea Sfintei Fecioare Maria (‘the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary’), Naúterea Maicii Domnului (‘the Nativity of the Mother of God’), Adormirea Maicii Domnului (‘the Dormition of the Mother of God’), Acoperământul Maicii Domnului (‘the Intercession of the Mother of God’), Bunavestire (/Buna 9estire) (‘the Annunciation’), Imaculata ConcepĠie (/Imaculata ConcepĠiune) (‘the Immaculate Conception’). A significant number of monasteries and churches refer to the Holy Trinity (the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost): Preasfânta Treime (‘the Blessed Trinity’), Sfânta Treime, Sfântul Duh (‘the Holy Ghost’),11 Sfântul Spirit (‘the Holy Ghost’), Pogorârea Sfântului Duh (Coborârea Duhului Sfânt) (‘the Descent of the Holy Ghost’), Casa Domnului (‘the House of Our Lord’), Mântuitorul (‘the Saviour’), Naúterea Domnului (‘the Nativity of Our Lord’), Schimbarea la FaĠă (Schimbarea la FaĠă a lui Isus) (‘the Transfiguration [of Jesus]’), Învierea (Învierea Domnului) (‘the Resurrection [of Our Lord]’), ÎnălĠarea Domnului (‘the Ascension of Our Lord’), Corpus Christi,12 Sfânta Cruce (ÎnălĠarea Sfintei Cruci (‘the [Feast of the] Holy Cross’), Duminica Sfintei Cruci (‘the Sunday of the Holy Cross’), Sfânta TroiĠă (‘the Holy Cross’). Since recently, one could come across names such as Intrarea Domnului în Ierusalim (‘the Triumphal Entry of Our Lord in Jerusalem’), Întâmpinarea Domnului (‘the Presentation of Our Lord [in the Temple]’), Preasfânta Inimă a lui Isus (‘the Sacred Heart of Jesus’), Cristos Rege (‘Christ King’), Trupul Domnului (‘the Flesh of Our Lord’), Trupul sfânt al lui Isus Cristos (‘the Holy Flesh of Jesus Christ’). Designations of churches also contain names of saints, whether they are “classical” (Petru úi Pavel, Mihail úi Gavril, Sfântul Mihail, Sfânta Elisabeta) or canonised in the last centuries: Sfântul Anton (de Padova), 10 All the churches and monasteries whose title is related to Intrarea în biserică (temple) a Maicii Domnului (‘the Entrance of the Mother of God in the Temple’) celebrate their devotion on November 21, both according to the Orthodox calendar and the Catholic one. 11 The first monastery with this title was recorded in 1199, in Ineu, Arad County. 12 The use of Latin names, such as the one of this house of worship, occurs scarcely in Romania.

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Sfântul Bartolomeu, Sfântul Carol Borromeo, Sfântul Ladislau (Sfântul Rege Ladislau) (‘Saint King Ladislaus’), Sfântul Maximilian Maria Kolbe,13 Sfânta Tereza a Pruncului Isus (‘Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus’), Sfântul Toma Becket (‘Saint Thomas Becket’), Sfânta Dreaptă (‘the Holy Right’).14 If one were to talk about globalisation in religion, names of Catholic churches mirror most faithfully the tendency toward universalisation, precisely through the use of certain names of saints in their designation.

Greek Catholic places of worship ùematismul veneratului cler al Eparhiei greco-catolice române a Maramureúului pe anul 1936 [Schematism of the Reverend Clergy of the Romanian Greek Catholic Eparchy of Maramureú, 1936]15 mentions that at that time houses of worship that pertained to this denomination (which then represented the majority, with 365,732 devotees, as compared to only 17,591 Orthodox followers) (ùematism: 165) included 236 stone churches, 120 wooden churches, 38 chapels and 2 monasteries (in Bixad, with the title of SfinĠii Apostoli Petru úi Pavel, and in Moisei, Adormirea Maicii Domnului ‘the Dormition of the Mother of God’).16 The data recorded for Transylvania, Criúana, Banat and Maramureú in the aforementioned dictionary show that the Blessed Virgin Mary is the patron of most of the Greek Catholic monasteries and sketes: Adormirea Preacuratei (‘the Dormition of the Immaculate One’), Adormirea Maicii Domnului (‘the Dormition of the Mother of God,’ celebrated on August 15), Bunavestire (‘the Annunciation,’ celebrated on March 25), Conceperea nepătată (‘the Immaculate Conception,’ celebrated on December 9), Intrarea în Biserică (‘the Presentation at the Temple,’ celebrated on November 21), Naúterea Preacuratei (‘the Nativity of the Immaculate One,’ celebrated on September 8), Ocrotirea Maicii Domnului 13

A Polish priest, killed in the Auschwitz concentration camp. He was beatified in 1971 and then canonised in 1982. 14 This is a Benedictine monastery in Sâniob, Bihor County, founded in 1084 by King Ladislaus I of Hungary, to shelter the right hand of Stephen I the Holy, King of Hungary. The monastery was also a place where ordeals were performed (DM: 228-229). 15 The term ùematism (‘schematism’), based on the German pronunciation of Lat. schematismus, is noted by Quintilian with the meaning of “figurative expression” (see GuĠu 1983: s.v.). 16 After 1948, the communist government gave them to the Orthodox denomination and they are yet to be re-ceded.

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(Ocrotirea Preacuratei) (‘the Guardianship of the Immaculate One’), Prea Curata Vergură Maria (‘the Immaculate Virgin Mary’), Maica Îndurerată (‘the Grieving Mother [of God]’). Even the Greek Catholic Diocese of Maramureú has the Blessed Virgin for a patron saint. The date when this devotion was made is recorded in the ùematism (156, orig. Romanian): “At the Bixad Monastery, in front of the sacred icon of Holy Mother of God (painted on wood), the official consecration of the Eparchy of Maramureú was made in 1931, by its Bishop (Alexandru Rusu), unto the guardianship of the Blessed Virgin, the patron of the Eparchy” Twenty churches are devoted to the Holy Trinity: Preasfânta Treime (Sfânta Treime) (celebrated on the second day of the Pentecost), Schimbarea la FaĠă (‘the Transfiguration,’ celebrated on August 8), Învierea Domnului (‘the Resurrection of Our Lord,’ celebrated at Easter), ÎnălĠarea Domnului (‘the Ascension of Our Lord’), Pogorârea Spiritului Sfânt (Coborârea Sfântului Spirit) (‘the Descent of the Holy Ghost’), ÎnălĠarea Sfintei Cruci (‘the Feast of the Cross,’ celebrated on September 14). The patron saints of Greek Catholic places of worship include Sfânta Ana (celebrated on July 25), SfinĠii Apostoli Petru úi Pavel (SfinĠii Apostoli, June 29), SfinĠii Arhangheli (November 8), Sfântul Dumitru (October 26), Sfântul Gheorghe (April 23), Sfântul profet Ilie (Sfântul Ilie, July 20), Sfântul Ioan Botezătorul (‘Saint John the Baptist,’ January 7), Naúterea Sfântului Ioan Botezătorul (‘the Nativity of Saint John the Baptist,’ June 24), Sfântul Ioan Evanghelistul (September 26), Sfântul Nicolae (December 6), Sfântul ùtefan (December 27), Sfântul Vasile (cel Mare, ‘Saint Basil the Great,’ January 1), ToĠi sfinĠii (‘All Saints,’ June 19), Trei SfinĠi (‘Three Saints,’ January 30). Some concluding remarks can be made as regards the aforementioned titles of Greek Catholic churches/chapels that the Eparchy of Maramureú (as well as other Eparchies) comprised in 1936: (1) All churches, monasteries and chapels have a single title. (2) Most houses of worship (136, namely 34.51%) are devoted to SfinĠii Arhangheli Mihail úi Gavril, celebrated on November 8. Two explanations can be provided: on the one hand, when people’s lives were tightly connected to agriculture, the faithful used to choose the devotion of a church so that it could be celebrated when agricultural activities were completed or during a more relaxed period. On the other hand, there is the belief in the help that the two angels give to communities of devotees, a custom that endures from medieval times, when the Romanian territory was subject to frequent Turkish and Tatar invasions.

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(3) Most churches are devoted to the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Holy Trinity and to traditional saints that are included in both the Orthodox and the Catholic calendar (Saint Nicholas is the most popular one). (4) As Greek Catholicism was forbidden under Communism, it currently only has a few churches and monasteries, most of which are new (since many were not returned after 1990). Old establishments kept their patron saint, while new ones even claimed saints from the Catholic calendar: Sf. Anton de Padova (in the cities of Arad, Baia Mare, and Carei), Padre Pio (in the villages of Negreia and Săliúte from Maramureú County).

Protestant places of worship The churches of Protestant denominations, created as a result of the Reform, belong to minority groups (especially to Germans and Hungarians) and they have been recorded since early times. In general, they bear no title and no specific name; since there is usually only one of a kind in a given place, protestant edifices are known by their belonging to a certain religious group: Biserica Anglicană Bucureúti (‘Bucharest Anglican Church’), Biserica Evanghelică Lutherană (‘the Evangelic Lutheran Church’), Biserica Reformată (‘the Reformed Church,’ known as the Calvin Church),17 Biserica Unitariană (‘the Unitarian Church’), or ethnic group: Biserica maghiară (‘the Hungarian Church’), Biserica săsească (‘the Saxon Church’). In the Transylvanian areas inhabited by Germans, in the Middle Ages churches were built in the manner of strongholds, with defensive walls and bastions. Therefore, the designations by which these establishments (many of which are included in the UNESCO World Heritage) are known follow the pattern Biserica Fortificată (‘the Fortified Church’) + place: Biserica Fortificată of Dîrjiu Harghita (Unitarian), Biserica Fortificată of Biertan (Lutheran), Biserica Fortificată of Ghimbav (Lutheran), Biserica Fortificată of Saschiz (Lutheran), Biserica Fortificată of Viscri (Lutheran). Nevertheless, there are churches that bear a certain title, especially in bigger localities where there are several houses of worship that pertain to the same religious community. Examples include Biserica Sf. Gheorghe of LechinĠa (BistriĠa), Biserica Sf. Johannis of Sibiu (each of the four Evangelical churches in Sibiu bears a different name, so that they can be 17

In 1564, the Holy Synod of Aiud decided the separation of the Lutheran and Calvinist Church, which resulted in the Evangelic Lutheran Church and the Reformed Calvinist one (see Biserica Reformată din România: online; Romanian Review of Political Geography: online).

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identified easily), Biserica Sf. Mihail of Cisnădie, Biserica Sf. Bartolomeu of Braúov. The name is accounted for by the pilgrimage that has been taking place for more than 500 years in the last Sunday before August 24, the day of St Bartholomew. This is a regional feast, which occasions the meeting of Saxon communities from ğara Bârsei. An unconventional name of this church is Biserica celor 3 orfane (‘the Church of the three orphan women’), based on a legend according to which these women gave all their possessions to the church and as a reward, they were buried under the altar. .

Neo-Protestant places of worship Although neo-Protestant houses of worship bear a specific name, one cannot claim that they have or celebrate a certain patron saint: Biserica Logos (of Pentecostal-Charismatic devotion, with churches in Baia Mare, Cluj-Napoca, Oradea and Ploieúti), Biserica Baptistă Logos, Biserica Baptistă Sfânta Treime (‘Holy Trinity Baptist Church’), Biserica CredinĠei Logos (‘Logos Church of Faith’), Biserica CredinĠei “Rhema” (‘“Rhema” Church of Faith’), Biserica Penticostală, Biserica Penticostală Maranata,18 Biserica Creútină Baptistă BiruinĠa (‘“Triumph” Baptist Christian Church’), Biserica Făclia (‘Beacon Church’), Biserica Filadelfia (an Evangelical-Charismatic Church, in Baia Mare and Bucharest), Biserica Penticostală Muntele Sionului (‘Mount Zion Pentecostal Church’), Biserica Creútină Adventistă (‘Adventist Christian Church’), Biserica Creútină Baptistă maghiară (‘Hungarian Baptist Christian Church’), Biserica Creútină după Evanghelie (‘Evangelical Christian Church’),19 Biserica Penticostală “Elim” (‘“Elim” Pentecostal Church’), Biserica Penticostală Betania (‘Betania Pentecostal Church,’ Deva), Biserica Poarta Cerului (‘Church of the Gate of Heaven,’ Timiú), Biserica Betel, Biserica Harul (‘Grace Church,’ Bucharest), Biserica Vestea Bună (‘Church of the Annunciation,’ Bucharest), Biserica Râul VieĠii (‘Church of the River of Life,’ Bucharest), Biserica Emanuel (Bucharest), Biserica Betesda, Biserica Izvorul VieĠii (‘Church of the Spring of Life’), Sala Regatului Martorilor lui Iehova (‘Kingdom Hall of Jehovah’s Witnesses’), 18

Maranata derives from Gr. Maranatha, a term based on the Aramaic interjection Mariana tha ‘O, Lord, I am coming,’ used as an invocation: “Lord, come!” or “There comes the Lord!” The phrase also occurs in The First Epistle to the Corinthians (16:22), “If any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let him be Anathema. Maranatha” [Our Lord, come!] (see Marana tha: online; 1 Corinthians 16:22: online). 19 The Western counterpart of this church is The Plymouth Brethren.

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Biserica lui Isus Hristos a SfinĠilor din Zilele din Urmă (‘Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,’ Braúov, of Mormon denomination), Casa de Rugăciune a Mormonilor (‘Mormons’ House of Worship,’ Câmpia Turzii).20 A special situation occurs with places of worship that are individualised by means of numbers. Such cases can be found in Cluj, where the names of Pentecostal churches make use of numbers from 1 to 13 (e.g., Biserica Penticostală nr. 5 Albini), and in Bucharest (e.g., Casa de Rugăciune Evanghelică 1-5 ‘Evangelical House of Worship’). Similarly, Kingdom Halls of Jehovah’s Witnesses and New Apostolic Churches from big cities (where there exist more than two establishments of these kinds) are also designated by means of numbers. In localities with small communities of devotees that only require a single place of worship, the one in question bears the name of the denomination it pertains to: The New Apostolic Church of Baia Mare, The Evangelical Christian Church of Petroúani. As one can easily note, names of neo-Protestant churches include common nouns or noun phrases (triumph, grace, logos, maranatha, new hope, hope), or proper expressions (Betania, Betel, Betesda, Elim, Emanuel, Ghetsimani, Golgota, Mount Zion, Poarta Cerului ‘the Gate of Heaven’). There also exist neo-Protestant establishments that bear opaque names, such as Casă de rugăciune úi studiu biblic (‘House of worship and Biblical study’), which do not reveal the religious belonging; however, by exclusion, one could suppose it is related to a neo-Protestant denomination. Moreover, regardless of the particular religious groups they may belong to, neo-Protestant temples are known by the informal name of “Biserică pocăită” (‘contrite church’).

Jewish places of worship21 The Jewish community from Romania has an almost bimillennial existence, but it only became significant on a demographic, economic and cultural level starting from the nineteenth century. According to the official census of 1930, the number of devotees of the Mosaic faith was 756,930, while at the census of 2002, only 6,179 people claimed to belong to this religious group (Istoria evreilor în România: online). Jews could be found throughout the country (the numerous synagogues bear witness to the 20 21

Almost all Evangelical houses of worship were founded after 1990. The authors warmly thank Ephraim Nissan for his collaboration on this section.

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former or current presence and practice of the religion), and to a great extent this is the case indeed in the northern part. Synagogue, the common noun that denotes a Jewish house of worship, derives from the Greek words syn ‘together’ and agoge ‘bringing.’ The term has got two meanings: (1) “A religious organisation, similar to Christian parishes, which appeared in the context of diasporas”; and (2) “A place of gathering and performing religious services” (DE VI: 427, orig. Romanian). Sometimes, temple (from Lat. templum) is given as a synonym for synagogue.22 As a matter of fact, a synagogue “was built facing the Temple of Jerusalem and nearby a body of water, for ritual baths” (DE VI: 427, orig. Romanian).23 As regards the determiners that the aforementioned terms take on for individualisation purposes, it is worth noting that they are few: synagogue and temple can be singularised for people outside the local community by means of juxtaposition with the name of their location—town (the Temple of Făgăraú), street (the Synagogue on Moúilor Road, Bucharest; the Synagogue on PorĠii Street, Braúov; the Synagogue on Crinului Street, Oradea) or neighbourhood (the Synagogue in Fabric, Timiúoara; the Synagogue in Cetate, Timiúoara)—, or with the adjectives mare ‘big,’ vechi/veche ‘old’: Sinagoga veche (‘the old Synagogue’) of Timiúoara, Sinagoga Mare (‘the Big Synagogue’)24 of Câmpulung Moldovenesc, Templul Mare (‘the Big Temple’) of Siret, Templul Mare of Vatra Dornei, and so forth. The following alphabetic list includes the names of Jewish places of worship recorded on this occasion: Sinagoga “Ahai Vereai,” Sinagoga

22

But this historically arose at a time when modern acculturation entailed a wish to avoid too specific a term; instead, now that people are comfortable to identify themselves overtly, the term temple is used as a reminder of the ancient temple of Jerusalem, and indeed, this reflects a term for “synagogue” from the literary register of Hebrew: miqdash me‘at, i.e., “lesser Temple,” a surrogate for the ancient Temple. The usual Hebrew term is beit-knesset, whereas in many European countries, including Romania, the Yiddish term shul is often used informally, for example in English as spoken (rather than written) by Jews among themselves in Britain. 23 Actually, it is a more complex matter. In late antiquity, apparently there was no requirement for synagogues to face Jerusalem, but such a practice developed. The Hebrew name of the ritual bath is mikve and in Anglo-Saxon countries among Jews—mikva, but in Italy in the age of emancipation, Jews formally referred to it as bagno rituale and still do in order to be understood. 24 Sinagoga Mare (‘the Big Synagogue’) from Bucharest (1845) also houses the “Chief Rabbi Dr. Moses Rosen” Memorial of Jewish Martyrs.

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Aúkenază, Sinagoga Avram Arie Rosen, Sinagoga Baal Shem Tov,25 Sinagoga Bet Hamidraú, Sinagoga Bet Israel, Sinagoga Bet Solomon, Sinagoga CerealiЮtilor (‘Synagogue of Seed Traders’), Sinagoga Croitorilor (‘Synagogue of Tailors’), Sinagoga EЮua Tova (Sinagoga Podul MogoЮoaiei), Sinagoga Gah, Sinagoga Leipziger, Sinagoga MeseriaЮilor (‘Synagogue of Craftsmen’), Sinagoga Neologă (‘Neologist Synagogue’), Sinagoga Ortodoxă (‘Orthodox Synagogue’), Sinagoga “Share Tora,” Sinagoga Saare Tora, Sinagoga Schor, Templul Coral, Templul Credinаa (‘Faith Temple’), Templul Havre Gah, Templul “Înfrăаirea” (‘“Brotherhood” Temple’), Templul MeseriaЮilor (‘Temple of Craftsmen’), Templul Neolog (‘Neologist [Reformed] Temple’), Templul Neuschot,26 Templul Sion, Templul Rabinului (‘Rabbi’s Temple’), Templul Unirea Sfântă (‘Temple of Holy Union’),27 Templul VijniĠer Klaus. It is salient that the determiners used (which are scarce as opposed to the numerous synagogues and temples) refer to several aspects: names of important people or places from the Old Testament (e.g., Zion), personalities, either modern (Avram Arie Rosen) or of Jewish cultural heroes of old (Bet Solomon, but arguably not Bet Israel, even though Israel is the other name of the patriarch Jacob: rather, Bet Israel “the House of Israel” is a traditional florid name for all Jews), or identifiers of a particular stream within Hasidism (VijniĠer Klaus: this is a Hasidic synagogue of the Vishnitzer movement within Hasidic Judaism), or an indication that this is a synagogue that doubled as a religious school (Bet Hamidraú), the trade of those who built the houses of worship (craftsmen in general),28 the denominational orientation of the edifices (Neologist, Orthodox, but also consider: faith, Holy union) and the ethnic group of origin (Ashkenazi Jews,29 Leipziger30). 25

Sinagoga Catedrală (‘the Cathedral Synagogue’) from Piatra NeamĠ, made of wood and built in 1766. It appears to be the only name that associates the terms synagogue and cathedral. 26 This is the only Reformed synagogue in Iaúi, which was demolished in 1940, after the bombing. 27 This temple also contains the Romanian Jewish History Museum. 28 This is a kind of synagogue name documented as early as Hellenistic Alexandria, but it flourished in some places in the Diaspora in the Middle Ages and early modern period. This has a clear parallel in the medieval and early modern Christian corporations of artisans or traders, whose bonds were professional, social and cultic as well. 29 Current scholarly perceptions are more complex: Jewish populations that already lived in Eastern Europe became acculturated to the liturgy and prestige culture stemming from medieval “Franco-Germany” (a cultural area to which the biblical name Ashkenaz was reapplied), whereas Sephardi Jews are, strictu sensu, of

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Unofficial/unconventional names of places of worship An unofficial name of a religious establishment is not related to its title, but to completely different criteria that can be decoded both diachronically (by looking at the history of an edifice) and synchronically (for instance, by considering the location of a church). On a local level, houses of worship are known especially by their unconventional names, which are used by all the members of a community, regardless of the religious group one may pertain to. Moreover, even tourist guides promote unofficial names, which are suggestive of various aspects of the objects they designate: - location: Biserica din Deal (‘the Church on the Hill,’ Timiúoara), Biserica din Salină (‘the Church from the Salt Mine,’ an ecumenical church situated in the Praid Salt Mine), Mănăstirea Hlincea (in the homonymous village nearby Iaúi), Biserica Ortodoxă din Deal (‘the Orthodox Church on the Hill,’ Cluj), Biserica Unitariană din Dâmb (‘the Unitarian Church on the Hill,’ Târgu Mureú), Biserica Vovidenia Iaúi (situated on the homonymous street). - colour: Biserica Albă (‘the White Church,’ Iaúi; although its devotion is celebrated at the Feast of the Transfiguration, it is assumed that its informal name is related to the fact that unlike other churches, the entire establishment is lime-washed); Biserica Neagră (‘the Black Church,’ Braúov; built at the end of the fourteenth century, this edifice was initially known as St Mary’s Church. Due to a fire that almost destroyed the building at the end of the seventeenth century, it received the name of the Black Church, an informal name that was officially accepted in the nineteenth century.). - an architectural peculiarity: Biserica cu Lună (‘the Church with a Moon,’ the Orthodox Cathedral in Oradea, built at the end of the eighteenth century: “It was called so due to a mechanism that is unique in Europe; [the device is] placed on the tower of the church, and it is meant to set in motion a moon-shaped sphere, which measures 3 metres in diameter and is painted half black, half golden. The sphere moves Iberian ancestry or acculturated to the influx of these after 1492. An earlier cultural subdivision was between the impact of Palestinian Jewry (in Byzantine territories, Italy and Franco-Germany) and Mesopotamian Jewry (an impact generalised once the Babylonian Talmud became available everywhere in the Abbasid and Carolingian period). In Greece, the Balkans and Anatolia, the Jewish refugees of 1492 from Spain found the local “Romaniot” tradition of the Byzantine Jews. 30 Among Romanian Jews, the group conventionally ascribed to origination from Leipzig is distinctive indeed.

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according to the orbit of the moon around Earth and, in its revolution, shows all the phases of the moon.” See Biserica cu Lună: online); Biserica Reformată cu Cocoú (‘the Reformed Church with a Rooster,’ Cluj; the name derives from the rooster decoration placed on the south tower of the church). - a historical event: Biserica Leproúilor (‘Lepers’ Church,’ Sighiúoara; at the end of the sixteenth century, the fortified establishment also housed a “leprosarium that was subsequently enlarged with cells for the sick”; Ghid Sighiúoara: online); Mănăstirea CetăĠuia (‘the Stronghold Monastery,’ Iaúi; as it was a fortified building, it was often used as a refuge by Moldavian rulers); Mănăstirea Galata (Iaúi; the name is taken from the neighbourhood of Galata in Constantinople/Istanbul, where aspirants to the Moldavian throne lived when they visited the Sublime Porte in order to get the Sultan’s assent); Biserica Mitocul Maicilor (‘the Church of the Nuns’ Cubicles,’ Iaúi; the name refers to the fact that there was a time when nuns lived in the cubicles built around the church. Another name of this edifice is Biserica lui Cuza ‘Cuza’s Church,’ as it belonged to the palace of Alexandru Ioan Cuza, ruler of the Romanian Principalities); Biserica Armeană Turnul Roúu (‘the Red Tower Armenian Church,’ Suceava; its designation is based on a legend according to which a cruel fight between the Moldavians, the Turkish and the Polish took place on the premises); Biserica Vulpe (‘the Fox Church,’ Iaúi; a centuries-old document mentions that in the area where the church is currently situated, a hunter kept chasing a fox and promised that he would erect a church on the spot where he caught it. It appears that the hunter began building the church, and received the help of the guild of furriers in this enterprise.); Mănăstirea Armeană Zamca (‘Zamca Armenian Monastery,’ Suceava; it was built in the early seventeenth century and it served as quarters for a Polish army at the end of the same century. The name comes from Polish zamca ‘stronghold’). - the function or status a religious establishment holds within an eparchy: Catedrala Arhiepiscopală (‘the Archepiscopal Cathedral,’ Cluj; its title is the Dormition of the Theotokos), Catedrala Mitropolitană (‘the Metropolitan Cathedral,’ Iaúi, with 3 titles: St Parascheva, the Presentation of Our Lord in the Temple and St George, Martyr). - the category of parishioners that an establishment addresses: Biserica StudenĠilor ASCOR (‘the Church of the Members of the Association of Romanian Orthodox Christian Students,’ Cluj); Biserica Armenească (‘the Armenian Church,’ Iaúi, devoted to St Mary); Biserica Banu (Iaúi, which celebrates its title on All Saints Day; its former name was Biserica Calicilor ‘Beggars’ Church,’ because people who lived on charity prayed

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there); Biserica Curelari (‘Belt Makers’ Church,’ Iaúi, which celebrates its title on the Feast of the Descent of the Holy Spirit. Most of its parishioners were members of the guild of belt makers); Biserica lipovenească (‘the Lipovan Church,’ Iaúi; it is the establishment of the Old-Rite Orthodox religious group, which is made up of Starovery Russians that came to Moldavia in mid-eighteenth century, as they opposed the religious reform in Russia). - founders’ names: Biserica Barnovschi (Iaúi; devoted to the Dormition of the Theotokos); Mănăstirea Arbore (Suceava County, founded by Boyar Arbore, a close acquaintance of Prince Stephen the Great of Moldavia); Biserica Toma Cozma Iaúi (founded by the Ban Toma Cozma in the early nineteenth century).

Conclusion As regards the names of places of worship in Romania, the following remarks need to be made: (1) There is a significant difference between the Orthodox, Roman Catholic and Greek Catholic churches, on the one hand, and the Protestant, Evangelical and Mosaic ones, on the other. While the former must have a titular saint/holiday (celebrated on the corresponding date in the religious calendar), the latter are not devoted to a certain patron, but they do have a name that underlines a key concept in the faiths in question. (2) Most of the patron saints can be found in all the three main denominations—Orthodox, Roman Catholic and Greek Catholic—, which leads to several onomastic homonymies: Sf. Ana, Sf. Apostol Andrei, Sf. Ecaterina, Sf. Elisabeta, Sf. Ioan—Sf. Ioan Botezătorul (‘St John the Baptist’), Naúterea Sf. Ioan Botezătorul (‘the Nativity of St John the Baptist’), Tăierea capului Sf. Ioan Botezătorul (‘the Beheading of St John the Baptist’)—, Sf. Ioan Evanghelistul (‘St John the Evangelist’)—Sf. Apostol Юi Evangelist Ioan (‘St John the Apostle and Evangelist’)—, Sf. Gheorghe (Sf. Mare Mucenic Gheorghe ‘the Great Martyr St George’), Sf. Maria Magdalena, Sf. Mihail, Sf. Petru, Sfinаii Petru Юi Pavel, Sfântul Apostol Toma. (3) It is worth nothing that in spite of their title only very few religious establishments are known by this official name: Biserica Trei Ierarhi (‘Three Hierarchs Church’) of Iaúi, Biserica Preasfântă Inimă a lui Isus (‘the Church of the Sacred Heart of Jesus’) of Ditrău, Biserica Sfântul Anton de Padova of Iaúi. Most churches are known based on other aspects related to their location (the name of the village/commune/city or neighbourhood/borough where they are situated), founder, a given

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peculiarity or another name (an unofficial one) that they developed in a certain circumstance (see also DM: 33). One must also note that the situation in the countryside is different from the one in urban areas. Churches in rural space (when there exist two and very rarely three such establishments) are known by their geographical location, their position upriver/downriver (Rom. sus/jos), in a valley (Rom. vale) or on a hill (Rom. deal): Biserica din Susani, Biserica din Josani, Biserica din Sus, Biserica din Jos, Biserica din Vale, Biserica din Deal. In urban areas, however, as there are usually several churches and even monasteries in a city, the onomastic identity of religious establishments is determined by various factors, which tend to recur with such edifices throughout the Romanian territory. Thus, churches/monasteries in cities can be known (a) by a geographical peculiarity of their location: Mănăstirea Căldăruúani (“The monastery is named after the place where it is built, which looks like a cauldron [Rom. căldare]”; Ghidul: 15, orig. Romanian); (b) by the place or locality in (or nearby) which they are situated: Mănăstirea Caraiman (after Caraiman Peak in Prahova County), Mănăstirea Cheia (Cheia village, Prahova County), Mănăstirea Rohia (Rohia village, Maramureú County), Mănăstirea Snagov (situated on an island in the middle of Lake Snagov); (c) by their founder: Mănăstirea Cernica (founded by the High Steward Cernica ùtirbei, in 1608), Biserica Bob of Cluj-Napoca (after the name of Ion Bob, the Romanian nobleman that erected it and that became the Bishop of Blaj) (Ghidul: 27), Mănăstirea Suzana (Prahova County; founded by Stanca Arsica, whose monastic name was Suzana), Mănăstirea Vărzăreúti (founded in 1645 by Radu Vărzaru, a high functionary of Matei Basarab) (Ghidul: 78); (d) as a result of an act of donation: Mănăstirea ğigăneúti (Ciolpani commune, Ilfov County),31 Mănăstirea Zamfira (Prahova County),32 Mănăstirea Sf. Elena de la Mare;33 (e) by the ethnic or confessional belonging of the devotees: Biserica Armeano-Catolică Gherla (‘the Armenian-Catholic Church of Gherla’), 31 The edifice is recorded in a contract of donation dated July 1780 and signed by Matei ğigănescu and his cousin, Parascheva Căplescu (Ghidul: 19). 32 The monastery was named after Madame Zamfira, who donated the land on which it was built. 33 The monastery was built in 1921, after Princess Elena, the mother of King Michael I of Romania, donated 100 ha of land for the foundation of a nunnery (Ghidul: 40).

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Biserica Ortodoxă Sârbă din Timiúoara (‘the Serbian Orthodox Church of Timiúoara’); (f) by an aspect related to their design: Mănăstirea Frumoasa (‘the beautiful monastery’) of Iaúi,34 Biserica Reformată cu cocoú (‘the Reformed Church with a rooster’) of Cluj-Napoca,35 BisericuĠa dintr-un brad (‘the little church made of a single fir tree’) of Sihla Skete; (g) by the street where they are located: Mănăstirea Plumbuita (Bucharest), Mănăstirea Antim (Bucharest), Schitul Măgureanu (Bucharest); (h) by a function they fulfil: Catedrala Patriarhală (‘the Patriarchal Cathedral’), Catedrala Episcopală (‘the Episcopal Cathedral’); (i) by the type of monastic class that they represent: Schitul Maicilor (‘the Nuns’ Skete,’ Bucharest).

References Biserica cu Cocoú din Cluj. Wikipedia: Enciclopedia liberă. http://ro.wikipedia.org/wiki/Biserica_cu_Coco%C8%99_din_Cluj (accessed September 2012). Biserica cu Lună. Wikipedia: Enciclopedia liberă. http://ro.wikipedia.org/wiki/Biserica_cu_Lun%C4%83 (accessed September 2012). Biserica Reformată din România. Wikipedia: Enciclopedia liberă. http://ro.wikipedia.org/wiki/Biserica_Reformat%C4%83_din_Rom%C 3%A2nia (accessed September 2012). Biserici.org. http://www.biserici.org/index.php?menu=BIC4 (accessed September 2012). Categorie: Biserici romano-catolice în România. Wikipedia: Enciclopedia liberă. ro.wikipedia.org/wiki/Categorie:Biserici_romano_catolice_în_ România (accessed September 2012).

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It was erected by Gregory II Ghica in 1727-1733; the monastery is built in the manner of Renaissance architecture, which is why it was called “Beautiful” (Ghidul: 123). 35 “The rooster decoration on the towers of Reformed churches is employed for the fowl’s symbolic value: it protects against the devil, as, according to the legend, the devil can perform his dark deeds only until the first crow of the rooster. At the same time, it is a symbol of wakefulness and especially of light, as it announces the dawn of a new day while it is still dark outside. This image of the rooster associates the fowl with Jesus of Nazareth, who leads humanity towards the light of day” (Biserica cu Cocoú din Cluj: online).

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Comunicat de presă privind rezultatele preliminare ale Recensământului PopulaĠiei úi al LocuinĠelor 2011. http://www.recensamantromania.ro/ wp-content/uploads/2012/08/Comunicat-presa_Rezultatepreliminare.pdf (accessed September 2012). 1 Corinthians 16:22. Bible Suite by Biblos. http://bible.cc/1_corinthians/16-22.htm (accessed September 2012). Costin, E. 1999. Biserici de lemn din MaramureЮ. Baia Mare: Editura Gutinul. Cristea, G. 1989. În аara bisericilor de lemn. Sibiu: Editura Mitropolia Ardealului. DE = Dicаionar Enciclopedic, vol. I-VI. 1993-2006. Bucure‫܈‬ti: Editura Enciclopedică. Despre hramul Bisericii Praznicul Sfintei Treimi. ViaĠa creútină 43 (46/2000). biserica.org/Publicatii/2000/NoIV/02_index.html (accessed September 2012). DM = A.A. Rusu (coord.). 2000. Dicаionarul mănăstirilor din Transilvania, Banat, CriЮana Юi MaramureЮ. Cluj-Napoca: Presa Universitară. Felecan, O. 2010. The Monastic Names in the North-West of Transylvania. A Sociolinguistic and Cultural Perspective. Transylvanian Review XIX (3/2010, Aspects of confessional diversity within the Romanian Space): 193-208. Ghid Sighiúoara.ro. http://www.ghidsighisoara.ro/despre-sighisoara-biserici .php (accessed September 2012). Ghidul = Gheorghi‫܊‬ă Ciocioi, Pr. ‫܇‬erban Tica, Amalia Dragne, DianaCristina Vlad and Mihaela Voicu. 2011. Ghidul mănăstirilor din România (2nd ed.). Bucure‫܈‬ti: Editura Sophia. Goje, V. 2011. Paradoxuri istorice româneЮti. Tecuci: Editura Transilvania. GuĠu, G. 1983. DicĠionar latin-român. Bucureúti: Editura ùtiinĠifică úi Enciclopedică. Istoria evreilor în România. Wikipedia: Enciclopedia liberă. http://ro.wikipedia.org/wiki/Istoria_evreilor_%C3%AEn_Rom%C3%A2 nia (accessed September 2012). Lista sinagogilor din România. Wikipedia: Enciclopedia liberă. http://ro.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lista_sinagogilor_din_Rom%C3%A2nia (accessed September 2012). Marana tha. Wikipedia: The Free Encyclopaedia. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marana_tha (accessed September 2012). MDA = Mic Dicаionar Academic vol. I-II. 2010. Bucure‫܈‬ti: Editura Univers Enciclopedic Gold.

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Mete‫܈‬, ‫܇‬. 1936. Mănăstirile româneЮti din Transilvania Юi Ungaria. Sibiu: n.p. Romanian Review on Political Geography. http://rrgp.uoradea.ro/ (accessed September 2012). Sawyer, J.F.A., and J.M.Y. Simpson. 2001. Concise Encyclopedia of Language and Religion. Oxford: Elsevier. Skete. Wikipedia: The Free Encyclopaedia. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skete (accessed September 2012). Эematism = Эematismul veneratului cler al Eparhiei greco-catolice române a MaramureЮului pe anul 1936. 2011 (1936). Baia Mare: Tipografia Surorilor Lauretane. Van Langendonck, W. 2007. Theory and Typology of Proper Names. Berlin/New York: De Gruyter. Vaxelaire, J.-L. 2005. Les noms propres—une analyse lexicologique et historique. Paris: Honoré Champion.

IDENTITY/ALTERITY IN NAMES OF ROMANIAN ASSOCIATIONS IN AMERICA AND ASIA ADELINA EMILIA MIHALI Introduction Globalisation,1 as a historical process, is not something new. This phenomenon has been discussed more and more in the last century, as a result of its intensification and purpose. The aim in the current context of globalisation is the development of a common identity and the abolition of differences. These differences are inevitable, even in a globalised world. Therefore, the solution for cohabitation in such an environment is intercultural dialogue. Its target is preservation of cultural identity and acceptance of differences, getting to know oneself through the other. Under these circumstances, it is difficult to establish the difference between state boundaries and linguistic ones. Migrations have led to the reconfiguration of the relations between majorities and minorities as regards ethnicity and language, and they have also led to ethnocentrism, linguistic discrimination, racism, nationalism, as well as social and linguistic inequalities. However, migrations have built a new and complex market for linguistic and communicative resources (Blommaert 2010: 3). Consequently, globalisation can be regarded as the favourable context for interrelations between people and companies, where language is the basis for social interaction (Cheung 2010: 355-356). When it comes to globalisation, several questions arise: Can a person keep his/her cultural identity in a world that wants to erase differences? Is the relation between identity and alterity beneficial to the individual? Can a sociocultural and linguistic balance be created through cultural dialogue and interculturality? 1

Here are two definitions for globalisation. The common sense definition: “Globalisation is the process through which people everywhere understand they have to accept what makes them similar, minimising what separates them” (Marin 2004: 79). The “openness” definition: “Globalisation is the expression of a world system of the highest degree of integration, which is permanently open to integration” (Marin 2004: 80).

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This study2 deals with the issue of cultural and linguistic identity and alterity, as regards the status that Romanians have in America and Asia. Another aspect that is addressed here is the way in which ethnicity is preserved by means of language and lexis in names of cultural associations and media belonging to the Romanian diaspora from the two continents in question. At the same time, an attempt is made to identify the minority’s openness towards cultural dialogue and the context in which this takes place. In order to establish the coordinates for identity and alterity in the names of significant institutions of the Romanian communities in America and Asia, a parallel theorisation of the two terms is required.

Identity and alterity: A controversial issue The current exegeses define identity and alterity as antonyms. Identity is defined as “the matter of being at any time identical to oneself; the state of an object of being what it is, of keeping its fundamental qualities for a certain amount of time”3 (DEXI 2007, s.v. identitate [‘identity’]), whereas alterity is “the quality of being different from a self, which constitutes a separate, different entity; the feeling a self has of being another, of being someone else” (DEXI 2007, s.v. alteritate [‘alterity’]). Therefore, identity means being equal to oneself, aiming at balance, uniformity; alterity is everything that is different from the self, being in strong connection with change. As a result, identity excludes the idea of alterity. The question that arises in the current sociopolitical, cultural and linguistic context is whether this opposition is beneficial to individuals and society, or if it generates a cultural and linguistic crisis that leads to social differences, cultural inequalities and not accepting those that are different.

Philosophical theories The individual has tried since ancient times to understand both oneself and the other. The scholars of those times have defined the human being from the viewpoint of the relation between self and other. Parmenides postulates the identity principle “A is A.” According to him, “the being is” can be stated, but “the non-being is” cannot, because it would be a 2

This study is part of Onomastics in Contemporary Romanian Public Space: Socio- and Psycholinguistic Research, a project funded by CNCS within the PN II “Human Resources” programme, designed for the stimulation of young independent research teams (TE, code 3/2010, project manager: Associate Professor Oliviu Felecan). 3 All the examples and quotes in this chapter were translated by the author.

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contradiction (Spermezan 2003: 18). Parmenides’ essential theory regards the human being’s singularity (identity as difference) and its affiliation to a class characterised by common unitary elements (identity as affiliation) (Ciobanu 2009: 13). Heraclitus’ philosophy of eternal becoming— determined by the coexistence of opposites as well as by the tension and the fight between these opposites (Spermezan 2003: 16)—invalidates Parmenides’ thesis by claiming that one cannot be identical with oneself throughout one’s entire life, because existence means becoming. Paul Ricoeur’s modern theory comes to mediate between the two aforementioned theses and defines identity and alterity as idem and ipse. Idem refers to the same person’s identity with himself, and ipse—the unpredictable evolution of the self, inevitably changing, identity as subjectivity (Ciobanu 2009: 14). Ricoeur therefore suggests the discovery of identity in alterity, an issue frequently addressed in the last decades. In Romanian space, Solomon Marcus speaks of three dimensions of identity: the material identity (the human body as a visible entity), the structural identity (the heterogeneousness of the human body at a structural level) and the interactive identity (the becoming that has interactions with others as source). It is interesting that identity is built in relation to an exterior other while establishing an interpersonal relation, but also in relation to an interior other (ipseity, an intrapersonal relation) (Ciobanu 2009: 15). Nevertheless, alterity is defined by Plato as one of the five forms people use to differentiate everything that exists. He agrees both with Parmenides and Heraclitus, believing that everything transforms, but only in the visible world, whereas the intelligible world is eternal (Spermezan 2003: 30). Plato does not exclude diversity. He states that the being is itself only by separating itself from what it is not. There is, as a result, a balance between identity and alterity in the entire being. It is important to observe the manner in which man relates to alterity, whether he sees it as a confrontation or as a possible dialogue that would make everyone win. The essence of interethnic relations consists precisely of this relation between self and other. If diversity is seen as a gateway to interculturality, to an exchange of knowledge that spiritually enriches individuals, then all social and cultural inequalities that lead to a hierarchised world would disappear. Émmanuel Lévinas’ philosophical theory can be considered an ethic of meeting the other with the purpose of mutual acquaintance and getting to know oneself through the other. In order to familiarise with and understand the other, one must make oneself recognised both by means of presence

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and language. Therefore, face-to-face interaction is doubled by dialogue, which acts as a mediator for the other’s experience.

Linguistic identity Language is used for communication, but also for establishing social relations. Language is valorised in each community in a particular way, because speakers identify language dissimilarities in different social, economic and political contexts. An ambiguity is inevitably born in a global environment—is language still a resource for cultural identity? After analysing sociolinguistically the multi-ethnic city of San Francisco, Hall-Lew (2010: 11, 13) states that linguistic variables are indicative of the development of ethnic identity, because there is an ethnic influence on the linguistic style used. In a speech community,4 language becomes the element that ensures communication and socialisation, at the same time reflecting the speakers’ characteristics. Blommaert (2010: 4) considers that people, even when migrating, are bound to a certain language and their physical mobility leads to linguistic mobility. According to the author (ibid.: 28), there is linguistic inequality in the context of globalisation, which leads to situations where the same language has different statuses in different communities (Trudgill 2000: 137; Coulmas 2005: 137). In Serbia and Hungary, countries relatively close to Romania, the Romanian language is excluded, and one’s selfproclamation as a Romanian and the use of the mother tongue lead to social outcasting. In Canada and the USA, there is the possibility of using one’s mother tongue in ethnic communities, as there are (local and general) laws that establish the languages and linguistic varieties that are used in various areas of public and social life. The freedom to use and pass on the mother tongue within an ethnic community is practically established by determining the speakers’ rights (the right to have a formal education in the mother tongue, the diminishing or eradication of discrimination in such a way that the group maintains its linguistic identity, thus preventing the disappearance of certain languages). By interpreting individuals’ choices within some social or professional minority groups as acts of self-expression (Kim and Drolet 2009: 1556), the language used in names of public space, in its high or low varieties, becomes a symbol of relating to the adoptive society and to the country of 4

“[…] the speech community is a complex interlocking network of communication whose members share knowledge about and attitudes towards the language use patterns of others as well as themselves” (Spolsky 1998: 25).

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origin. If speakers from a minority live where another language is officially used, then they must manage their language in such a way as to permit cultural interactions (Bowe and Martin 2007: 1). In multilingual communities, people can speak the same language at work, but at home they might have a different linguistic behaviour. For instance, except for mixed families, Romanian emigrants use their mother tongue. Their choice could be interpreted as an expression of linguistic identity. Professional, economic and political relations require the use of the official language, but Romanian families, friends or organisations keep their mother tongue. Spolsky (1998: 50) says that a bilingual person can change his/her linguistic identity; s/he can choose what language suits best his/her attempt to establish social connections. Blommaert (2010: 31) states that in the context of globalisation and linguistic migration linguistic signs become emblematic. They do not have linguistic meanings for all the speakers, but only for those that perceive them as linguistic signs (ibid.). For emigrants, language becomes a constituent element of their cultural identity, because they live isolated from their homeland. Therefore, they are aware that they belong to an ethnic, linguistic and cultural group, thus favouring the development of cultural associations within minorities. In this respect, the Church has an important role. Also, the language of the adoptive country, often used in names of Romanian associations from the diaspora, serves as a cultural mediator. It facilitates intercultural communication, experience exchange between the minority and the majority, thus efficiently managing a possible linguistic “outcasting.” Language is a means to acquire power and influence; it is an important social life factor, as it has a symbolic value in establishing relations between social classes and ethnic groups, and between community and ethnic identity (Spolsky 1998: 66). Moreover, the symbolic function of language aims at an individual’s identity. The easiest way to identify a person is language. There are isolated sociocultural and/or ethnic groups that reject the culture and language of the new country. Equally so, worth mentioning are the emigrants that have given up their mother tongue, especially in the US where they are drawn by the mirage of the English language and its possibilities in today’s society (Spolsky 1998: 55). As a result, it must be mentioned that linguistic loyalty exists within minorities, since there is some resistance against the pressure put indirectly by the language of the adoptive country and the factors that determine speakers to either give up or be faithful to their mother tongue.

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The relation “self – other,” “selves – others” in the names of Romanian cultural associations in America and Asia If the Romanian communities in Asia and Latin America are relatively small, in the USA and Canada the number of Romanian emigrants is growing. According to the latest statistics from the US, there are approximately one million people of Romanian origin and in Canada there are circa 100,000. The status of national minority is not recognised in some countries from South America (Argentina, Columbia) and this accounts for the small number of Romanian emigrants’ cultural associations compared to that of North America. The press in Romanian has grown, mostly in the US and Canada but also in Turkey and Israel. The names of these institutions shed light on the way in which Romanians know and recognise themselves abroad, on their perception of cultural identity, but also on a possibility of relating to others (namely natives or other emigrants with whom they cohabit).5 The links between these associations and the homeland, Romania, are equally interesting. For example, there is a genuine exchange of cultural experiences between Romania and Japan. There are many Romanian-Japanese associations that function in Romania, insomuch that the actions taken by the Romanian community in Japan are bilateral. The Romanian-Japanese relationship was facilitated by emigration for studying purposes and for jobs in the field of technology. In Israel, the Romanian community mostly consists of Jews that have come from Romania, and the Romanian language is the second most used language in the Israeli press. The status of Romanian communities is different from country to country. In Latin America, in countries where national minorities are not recognised and multi-ethnic groups are divided between Argentinians and foreigners, Romanians’ associations are rarer and less developed. In multiethnic states where the government encourages immigration (Canada, the USA), the Romanians’ status is different: they have access to formal education and press in Romanian. The valorisation of the “self – other” relationship in the Romanian diaspora is not bound to distance or cultural difference. There is a 5

The names have been taken from the internet, from specialised websites and forums. Where the name is not transparent, the presidents or contact members have been contacted to provide additional explanations. Most of the discussions have revealed a need for cultural communication, for a cultural experience exchange. Many of these associations or editorial offices were developed due to homesickness, a need to share personal experiences with co-nationals, but also out of the necessity to be accepted and to get accustomed to the new society.

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connection between politics and minorities, because it is governments that most of the times establish the status of emigrants and their language. For instance, the Romanians from Serbia are excluded from society; they are culturally, ethnically and linguistically outcast, and this has led to an identity crisis and to political controversies between Romania and Serbia. Those that define themselves as Romanians within Serb space have no right to maintain their cultural identity, much less the linguistic one. This makes the intervention of the Romanian Government necessary in order to have their rights respected. In the USA, however, the US Federal Voting Act wants to increase the number of minority participants in the government.

The national image within multi-ethnic environments: A socio-onomastic perspective The Church and the environment play an important part in multi-ethnic and multilingual spaces. Relations between neighbours that are emigrants (many times with different cultures, ethnicities and even races) are essential. There is a conflict in multilingual communities when it comes to choosing a language. The reason is that a language can be a way to socially integrate, to reach a higher level, but at the same time it is a characteristic of personal identity. In such an environment, people seek to find and valorise their roots, to create an image that defines them. A manner in which ethnicity can be emphasised is mirrored by the names used for Romanian cultural associations belonging to the diaspora.6 Most of the times, native Romanian speakers believe that their language is the best way to convey their feelings and to manifest their customs. Therefore, besides generic names such as Asociaаia românilor din... (‘The Romanians’ Association from…’), which mark a sociocultural and/or ethnic group (Asociaаia Româno-Moldovenilor ‘The Romanian-Moldavians’ Association,’ Asociaаia Tinerilor Originari din România ‘The Young People from Romania Association,’ Asociaаia de Dantelă Românească din Japonia ‘The Japan Association of Romanian Lace,’ Casa Română ‘The Romanian House,’ Comunitatea Românească din Turcia ‘The Romanian Community from Turkey,’ Comunitatea Românilor din Japonia ‘The 6

Following the discussions on the Internet with the presidents of some cultural associations from the diaspora, it was noticed that these organisations do not address only Romanians, even if the name does not denote the desire to establish an intercultural dialogue, but rather the intention of creating an exclusivist club. Neighbours, friends or people from the Romanians’ entourage that are of different origin take part in many events.

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Romanian Community from Japan,’ Clubul Studenаilor Români ‘The Romanian Students’ Club,’ Clubul Românesc ‘The Romanian Club,’ Club România ‘Club Romania,’ Institutul Cultural Român ‘The Romanian Cultural Institute,’ Liga Studenаilor din Străinătate ‘The League of Students from Abroad,’ Societatea Românilor de la Harvard ‘The Romanians from Harvard Society,’ Românii din Triunghiul de Aur ‘The Romanians from the Golden Triangle,’ Эcoala Românească Milney Valley ‘The Milney Valley Romanian School’), there are other emblematic names. In the first situation, a standardisation of names can be noticed. This suggests that most of the times, the name belongs to a club, an exclusivist group that is addressed only to people of a certain ethnicity. These names do not require an intense process in order to valorise the creativity and the productivity that a language has, as they are simple, easy to memorise and with a clear message. They also emphasise the human desire to affiliate to an ethnic or socio-professional group and also the search for identity through affiliation. More often than not, these names function both in Romanian and in the official language of the adoptive country. On the other hand, the emblematic names mirror how Romanians perceive that which defines them as a people, as an ethnic entity, unique and independent, but also the manner in which they share with others (of different ethnicities, together with whom they live in a given space) something from their heart, building a bridge between them and the others, between Romania and other countries. Therefore, Romanian emigrants are faced with the following lexical dilemma: the names should be representative, but nevertheless attract others into cultural dialogue. These names are mostly chosen by the founder of the association and can refer to: - literary works and notions that are emblematic for the Romanian space: Asociaаia Folclorică Balada (‘The Folkloric Association “The Ballad”’), Clubul “Luceafărul” (‘The “Mornig Star” Club’), Buletinul Informativ “Doina”7 (‘The “Doina” News Bulletin’), Romanian Cultural Society “Mioriаa,” the Mioriаa magazine, the Canadian radio station Mioriаa, Mioriаa Magazin (‘The Miori‫܊‬a Magazine’), Societatea Română CreЮtină Dorul (‘The “Longing” Romanian Christian Society’; dor ‘longing’ is a notion that cannot be translated with all its meanings and nuances in order to fully convey the depth of the feeling of melancholy); - ethnicity: Ansamblul de Dansuri Populare “RomânaЮul” (‘The “Little Romanian Boy” Folkloric Dance Company’), Româncuаele (‘The Little Romanian Girls’); the newspapers “Cuvânt Românesc” (‘The 7

Edited by Societatea Japonia-România (‘The Japan-Romania Society’).

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Romanian Word’) and “Portal Românesc”8 (‘The Romanian Portal’); the TeleRoumanie Ad Hoc Image television station; - Romanian regions: Centrul Cultural Român “Banatul” (‘The “Banat” Romanian Cultural Centre’), Societatea Culturală Română Bucovina (‘The Bukovina Romanian Cultural Society’), the Carpatica (‘Carpathian’) magazine, Carpatina Romanian Society (< the Carpathian Mountains); - Romanian cultural personalities: Clubul “Mihai Eminescu” din Regina (‘The “Mihai Eminescu” Club from Regina’), Эcoala Duminicală “Mihai Eminescu”9 (‘The “Mihai Eminescu” Sunday School’), Festivalul de Artă Contemporană “BrâncuЮi”10 (‘The “Brâncu‫܈‬i” Contemporary Art Festival’), Societatea “George Enescu” din Montreal (‘The “George Enescu” Society from Montreal’); - Latinity and Dacianism, elements that were essential in the development of the Romanian people and language: Societatea Culturală Română Dacia din Karaganda (‘The Dacia Romanian Cultural Society from Karaganda,’ Kazakhstan); - democracy: Fondul Românesc Liber (‘The Romanian Free Fund’), and the newspapers Lumea Liberă (‘The Free World’), Curentul Internaаional (‘The International Trend’) and Universul (‘The Universe’). The names that refer to ethnicity, Dacianism or national literary works aim at identifying aspects that do not change in the course of time. They always remain defining for the Romanian people, for its national identity and for each member’s personal one. This is why one could claim that this case illustrates Paul Ricoeur’s idem. The individual can deny his affiliation to a people, but this does not remove that which defines his national identity carried within him. Willingly or forcedly isolated from the community where they were brought up, people search for their roots, they turn within themselves to know and recognise themselves in relation to others. Romanians, in other parts of the world, especially in the EU, have been wrongly perceived because of the large number of individuals coming from Romanian minorities and because of some social abuses and crimes committed by some emigrants. Thus, it is a priority to shed some positive light on Romanians and this process begins exactly with the 8

It is an electronic newspaper, but the term portal, suggestively chosen, stands both for the IT aspect and for the openness towards the world that is less known by the members of the adoptive country. 9 It functioned in Kazakhstan until 2006, within the Societatea Culturală Română Dacia (‘The Dacia Romanian Cultural Society’). 10 Organised by the Asociaаia de Schimburi Culturale Japonia-România (‘The Cultural Exchange Association Japan-Romania’).

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programmes and names of the cultural associations, which emphasise various aspects of national identity. The use of names of Romanian regions in the designations of cultural societies, of newspapers and magazines owned by Romanian emigrants has two implications. Firstly, it is an attempt to get closer to the birthplace of the founders. Secondly, it is the need of assertion, of recognition, because many of these regions are known across the world (Bukovina, the Carpathians and Transylvania). The same meaning can be attributed to the usage of Romanian cultural figures’ names, which, due to translations, as in Eminescu’s case, or to the figure’s emigration, are known throughout the world, but without always being identified as Romanian. In the press, where the title, as a frontispiece of the publication, informs, sensitises and aims at the target audience, the act of naming has to follow the rules of ciphering and to make it adequate for the average audience, capable of deciphering the message. Thus, the collocation-title is frequently met, most of the times in the nominative case, and aims at the Romanians’ assertion, at their possibility to communicate and to express themselves. The interrelation with the public, as a speech act, requires the identification of unitary elements and constructive differences. Collocations such as Cuvântul Românesc (‘The Romanian Word’), Portal Românesc (‘The Romanian Portal’), Pulsul Românesc (‘The Romanian Pulse’), Lumea Românească (‘The Romanian World’), Mândra Românie (‘The Proud Romania’), Meridianul Românesc (‘The Romanian Meridian’), Radio Viaаa Românească (‘The Romanian Life Radio’), Radio Diaspora Online (‘Diaspora Online Radio’), suggest a portrayal of the Romanians’ lifestyle, of their linguistic and material culture. Moreover, on the frontispiece of newspapers from Israel, Canada and the USA, there are many names that refer to an unidentified group that is open to everyone. The only element that suggests an identifying connection is the use of Romanian: Acasă (‘Home’), Revista Familiei (‘The Family’s Magazine’), Revista Mea (‘My Magazine’), Viaаa Noastră (‘Our Life’), Tribuna Noastră (‘Our Tribune’). Equally so, title-words encountered in journalistic names reflect: - origin: Izvoare (‘Streams’), Acasă (‘Home,’ referring to the homeland, but also to social integration in the adoptive country); - the desire to highlight elements that remind one of Romania; in this respect certain names from current or inter-war Romanian press have been borrowed: Adevărul (‘The Truth’), Foaia (‘The 1HZVSDSHU’), Facla (‘The Flare’);

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- aspects of contemporary society: Actualitatea (‘The Actuality’), Faptu' Divers11 (‘The Miscellaneous Fact’), Observatorul (‘The Observer’), Ultima Oră (‘The Last Hour’), Zum (‘Zoom’), Luminatorul (‘The Light’). The lexis used reflects a new side of the Romanian community in the diaspora through general, frequent and synchronic use of some terms (Dacia, dor ‘longing,’ român ‘Romanian,’ names of some historical and cultural personalities, Romanian regions), as well as through isolated contexts in which these notions are used in the country. Names in Romanian public space in the country record mostly foreign words rather than terms that refer to patriotism, nationality or ethnicity. This aspect brings to light different perceptions of the self, even within an ethnicity. Isolated from the homeland, individuals become more attentive to social and cultural details, being aware of the fact that language has two functions: to convey information about the extralinguistic reality and to reveal social information about the speakers. An important role in the Romanian community life in the diaspora is held by the Church. Many religiously oriented organisations and newspapers, especially in the USA, serve as proof: AsociaĠia GrecoCatolicilor Români (also uses its name in English, Romanian Greek Catholic Association, ROGCA), AsociaĠia Catolicilor Româno-Americani (‘The Romanian-American Catholic Association,’ ARCA), Philadelphia Romanian Church of God Program, Societatea Română CreЮtină “Dorul” (‘The “Longing” Romanian Christian Association’) and the newspapers Credinаa (‘Faith’), CreЮtinul în acаiune (‘The Christian in Action’), Viaаa CreЮtină (‘Christian Life’), Romanian Christian Television. The image of one’s culture is mirrored in the lexis and in the relation between a sign (linguistic, graphic and emblematic) and an object. It is especially valorised in the symbolic function of language. The names of Romanians’ cultural associations from the diaspora and/or Romanian press from America and Asia are metaphorical and symbolic for the Romanian minority, as well as for the relation “self – other.”

11

It is worth noting here the colloquial pronounciation without the definite article and the spelling with an apostrophe. The name illustrates the connection between the Romanian spoken at home and the one used in the community, in sociocultural contexts. In the first situation, the language is not used in its crafted, literary form, and there is a tendency to shorten the language through the elision of the definite article.

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Cultural dialogue: Preserving one’s identity in diversity Identity is always developed in relation to alterity (Hasting and Manning 2004: 292). This manner of approaching identity allows people to become acquainted with other cultures, to accept diversity and to learn that acts of identity are linked to the respect owed to other dimensions of alterity (Hasting and Manning 2004: 294). In the names of Romanian cultural associations from America and Asia, the openness towards a cultural exchange is suggested by the use of some symbolic terms (“friendship,” “alliance”) or by lexical combinations of the two regions/countries (i.e., home and host countries/regions): Asociaаia de Schimburi Culturale Japonia-România (‘The Cultural Exchange Japan-Romania Association’), Asociaаia de Prietenie RomânoColumbiană (‘The Romanian-Columbian Friendship Association’), Alianаa Românilor Canadieni (‘The Canadian Romanians Alliance’), Consiliul Româno-American (‘The Romanian-American Council’), Comunitatea Româno-Americană din Illinois (‘The Romanian-American Community from Illinois’), Prietenii României (‘The Friends of Romania’), Reаea socială între România Юi China (‘The Social Network between Romania and China’), Societatea de Prietenie Azerbaidjan-România (‘The Azerbaijan-Romania Friendship Society’), Societatea de Prietenie Româno-Azeră (‘The Romanian-Azerbaijani Friendship Society’), Societatea Japonia-România (‘The Japan-Romania Society’), Societatea Româno-Americană (‘The Romanian-American Society’). Thus, two tendencies can be noticed: the establishment of friendship, cultural dialogue, but also the overt assertion of the new assumed status, socially, culturally and linguistically (e.g., românii canadieni ‘Romanian Canadians’). The collocation reаea socială (‘social network’), often used since the twentieth century, is a linguistic brand of interculturality. When people socialise, they get to know themselves and they get to know themselves in relation to others. The name of the cultural society Viitorul Român (‘The Romanian Future’) requires the Romanians and the people they come into contact with to have a mentality change that aims at a wider opening to what is new. In the media, where names demand a greater use of the relativity and productivity that a language has to offer, interactions between Romanian culture and that of other peoples suggests the use of some emblematic terms: Alternativa (‘The Alternative’), Noii Români (‘The New Romanians’), Zig-Zag Român-Canadian (‘Romanian-Canadian Zig-Zag’). The noun alternativa (‘alternative’) refers to a new lifestyle. Emigration, in its essence, is another social variant to which individuals resort and which requires a rupture from what is known, common, and an attempt to

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get accustomed to a foreign, different environment. In the century of globalisation, interculturality is an alternative for solving the identity crisis, a zig-zag efficient in communication and cohabitation. The adjective nou (‘new’) expresses, in this context, a different social status of Romanian emigrants, but also the need for greater malleability when it comes to accepting diversity in advertising the Romanian nationality and the positive side of Romania. It should not be omitted that many names are given in the language of the adoptive country, especially in the US and Canada, where political and social circumstances and particularly multiculturality have favoured the Romanians’ integration in the new society. Language becomes a cultural mediator, because names address everyone: Romanian Museum, RomanianAmerican Network Inc., World Romanian Council, Romanian American Council, the newspapers American Romanian Cultural Media, EurolifeRomanian Magazine, Free Romanian TV, Las Vegas Romanian Journal, Romanian-American Yellow Pages, Romanian American TV, Romanian Journal, Romanian Radio Hour, Romanian Sacramento Magazine, Romanian Satellite Network, Romanian Times, Romanian Voice TV, Romanian-American Heritage Center Inform. Bulletin, Romanian Tribune Newspaper. The French Rocade, the name of a cultural society in Canada, suggests the existence of cultural exchange between Canada and Europe, particularly Romania and France. The hybrid names created with one generic collocation in the language of the adoptive country and an emblematic Romanian name, mediate the exchange of cultural experiences. They are representative because they support interculturality, acceptance of differences and self-discovery through the other. Romanian names are blazons; they only speak to the heart and soul of those that know their linguistic meaning, whereas for everyone else they are just graphic signs. Hence the following: Clipa— Romanian Magazine (‘The Moment’), Impact Magazine, Solia—The Herald12 (‘The Messenger’), Romanian-American Cultural Center “Atheneul,” Romanian Cultural Society “Mioriаa.” In this context, language is no longer an indicator of identity, as the sign becomes a symbol of ethnic unity. From a sociolinguistic viewpoint, the choice of English especially for the names of Romanian organisations from the diaspora can be interpreted as a means of integrating in the adoptive society, of affiliating to the social, economic and political life to which emigrants do not have access. Some sociolinguists state that language is not an important aspect when defining 12

The name, which is encountered in the Romanian press from the US, occurs both in Romanian and English

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affiliation to an ethnic group, because there are peoples that survived while their languages died (Spolsky 1998: 103). Therefore, the use of the language spoken in society in the naming of Romanian emigrants’ associations leads to the establishment of a social, cultural and linguistic network between minorities and others. For this reason, attempts are made to establish connections between cultures in order to uncover common elements and to have the differences resonate. The purpose of the development of a cultural dialogue is to get to know the other and oneself better. Therefore, not only interlingual contacts can be noticed, but also interethnic contacts, due to interactions Romanian emigrants have with their neighbours of different ethnicities and races. This cultural openness aims at the acceptance of alterity and its interpretation in relation to one’s own identity. The names that have been analysed mirror the proneness towards an exchange of cultural experiences.

Conclusion The need of an identity is inherent to the human psyche so as to ensure the balance essential to existence. In democratic countries, the right to an ethnic identity is ensured and guaranteed, as it has a legal framework. The need of alterity in an environment that inclines towards globalisation ensures the framework for a cultural dialogue and for interculturality. These two aspects become salient in the names of Romanian organisations from America and Asia. The Romanians’ ambivalent image across the world (on the one hand, violent, a side of them that is popularised but not generic; on the other hand, as a kind, hospitable people) and the emphasis in the recent years on negative aspects have led to the promotion through names of this nationality of renowned cultural personalities and an attitude of openness towards tolerance and alterity. This is an attempt to change how Romanian communities from the diaspora are perceived. The analysed names mirror both identity as affiliation or interaction, and acceptance of alterity and how it could be approached from the viewpoint of getting to know oneself. Language is no longer an aspect of identity; it rather becomes a means of interethnic and intercultural communication. Linguistic signs (in the case of the Romanian language) can travel, but they hold a meaning only for those that can linguistically decipher them. The language of the adoptive countries, which is used in the naming of Romanian societies from America and Asia, mediate a connection between emigrants and other citizens. Knowledge cannot be achieved only through action, but also through language. Acceptance and

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integration require the use of a language that is common to both sides. It is thusly tried to efficiently manage a cultural crisis.

References Blommaert, J. 2010. The Sociolingvistics of Globalization. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bowe, H., and J. Martin. 2007. Communication Across Cultures. Mutual Understanding in a Global World. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Cheung, M. 2010. The globalization and localization of persuasive marketing communication: A cross-linguistic socio-cultural analysis. Journal of Pragmatics 42 (2): 354-376. Ciobanu, I. 2009. Identitate ‫܈‬i alteritate în jurnalul intim românesc. PhD diss., Chi‫܈‬inău. http://ro.scribd.com/doc/72825211/49598162-IngaCiobanu-Thesis (accessed September 2012). Coulmas, F. 2005. Sociolinguistics: The Study of Speakers' Choices. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. DEXI 2007 = Dima, E. et. al. 2007. DicĠionar explicativ ilustrat al limbii române. Chi‫܈‬inău: Editura Arc & Gunivas. Hall-Lew, L. 2010. Ethnicity and Sociolinguistic Variation in San Francisco. Language and Linguistics Compass 4 (1): 458-472. Hasting, A., and P. Manning. 2004. Introduction: acts of alterity. Language & Communication 24 (4): 291 -311. Kim, H., and A. Drolet. 2009. Express Your Social Self: Cultural Differences in Choice of Brand-Name Versus Generic Products. Personality and Psychology Bulletin 35: 1555-1566. Marin, D. 2004. Globalizarea si aproximările ei. Bucure‫܈‬ti: Editura Economică. Spermezan, G. 2003. Introducere în gândirea unor mari filosofi. Bucure‫܈‬ti: Editura Didactică ‫܈‬i Pedagogică. Spolsky, B. 1998. Sociolinguistics. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Trudgill, P. 2000. Sociolinguistics: An Introduction to Language and Society. London: Penguin Books.

SECTION THREE: NAMES IN JOURNALS AND MAGAZINES

THE ARTICLES AND NOTES IN NAMES: A JOURNAL OF ONOMASTICS AS A WINDOW INTO CURRENT RESEARCH INTERESTS IN ONOMASTICS FRANK NUESSEL Introduction In my role as Editor of NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics since 2008, the articles published in that nearly five-year period provide a window into the trends and issues in the field of onomastics. The publication schedule of the journal of the American Name Society (2012) is four issues per year. The current publisher of the journal is Maney Publications (London, UK, 2012). The purpose of this chapter is to review and categorise the onomastic content of the 19 issues of NAMES during my tenure as Editor (2008-to present), i.e., volumes 56-60 (through issue 3 of volume 60, 2012). At this writing, one issue of volume 60 remains to be edited (volume 60:4). The database for this study includes the 19 issues of NAMES that have appeared under my editorship. The journal appears four times per year and the issues are published in March, June, September and December. The total number of articles and notes in these 19 issues totals 92. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics is a refereed journal with a ten person editorial board including seven from the US and one each from Germany, Australia and South Africa. Two anonymous reviewers evaluate each submission with four possible recommendations: (1) Publish essentially as is; (2) Publishable, but with revisions; (3) Not publishable in its present form; and (4) Not publishable. The standardised evaluation sheet provides space for comments, recommendations and suggestions. Almost all submissions require slight to significant revision. Thomas Gasque has written an excellent history of the American Name Society entitled “Six Decades of the American Name Society, 1951-2009,” available at the American Name Society web site (Gasque 2012) under the heading of “A History of the American Name Society.” It discusses the founding of the organisation on December 29, 1951 in Detroit, Michigan,

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and it includes a complete list of Presidents of the American Name Society and a list of Editors of NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics through 2009. Several innovations in the journal have taken place since volume 56 (2008). These include the following: (1) A regular editorial column; (2) a report on the “Name of the Year” (initiated in 2005, Evans 2010a); (3) an annual Award for the Best Article in NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics (Nuessel 2010b for 2009; Nuessel 2011b for 2010; Nuessel 2012a for 2011); and (4) an occasional reprinting of an article form earlier issues to provoke interest in a particular topic (a theory of names (Algeo 2010 [1985]), categorisation of toponyms (Stewart 2012 [1954])).

Journal rankings On August 12, 2011, NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics received the news that it was accepted into the prestigious Thomson Reuters ISI listed journals. Barbara Whitener, Government and Electronic Resources Specialist, Reference Department, Ekstrom Library, University of Louisville, provided this information about the history of ISI and the meaning of this acronym (Nuessel 2011a: 189): The ISI (Institute for Scientific Information) was founded by Eugene Garfield in 1955. A pioneer in the field of bibliometrics, he was involved in research relating to machine generated indexes in the mid-1950’s and early 1960’s. In July 1958, Garfield laid the foundations for building an organization that included more than 500 people when it was acquired by The Thomson Corporation in 1992. Eugene Garfield is now the Chairman Emeritus for ISI. The Web of Knowledge is an academic citation indexing and search service, which is combined with web linking and provided by Thomson Reuters. Web of Knowledge coverage encompasses the sciences, social sciences, arts and humanities. It provides bibliographic content and the tools to access, analyze, and manage research information. Multiple databases can be searched simultaneously. Acceptable content for the Web of Knowledge is determined by an evaluation and selection process based on the following criteria: impact, influence, timeliness, peer review, and geographic representation. The journal NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics is now included in the Web of Knowledge.

In addition, NAMES is included in the European Science Foundation Standing Committee for the Humanities. The acronym ERIH stands for European Reference Index for the Humanities. Under the current system, the journal is ranked INT 2. Under the previous ERIH system, there were three rankings for academic journals, namely, “A,” “B,” and “C.” These designations have now been changed to “INT1,” “INT2,” and “NAT” in

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descending order. The meanings of the current categories are as follows (Nuessel 2011a: 190): 1. INT1: International journals with high visibility and influence among researchers in the various domains in different countries, regularly cited all over the world. 2. INT2: International publications with significant visibility and influence in the various research domains in different categories. 3. NAT: European publications with a recognized scholarly significance among researchers in the respective research domains in a particular (mostly linguistically circumscribed) readership group in Europe; occasionally cited outside the publishing country, though their main target is the domestic academic community.

Articles and Notes in NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics (2008-2012) This empirical study of the content of articles and notes in NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics examines a total of the nineteen issues under my editorship, which includes all four issues of volumes 56 (2008) through volume 59 (2011) and the first three issues of volume 60 (2012). The total number of articles and notes published in that time frame was ninety-two. In order to categorise these materials, I used the categories employed in The Study of Names: A Guide to the Principles and Topics (Nuessel 1992). The categories involve a broad range of topics under each rubric: (1) Anthroponyms, (2) literary onomastics, (3) place names, (4) name of the year, (5) other, and (6) brand names. In the following sections, each rubric will be discussed. Ninety-two articles and notes appear in the nineteen issues of NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics (volume 56 through volume 60, issue 3). Each item undergoes an anonymous review by members of the editorial board and, on occasion, by other specialists. The accepted articles are then published as space becomes available, but as quickly as is reasonably feasible. In the following discussion, the onomastic categories will be discussed. Table 1 provides an overview of the categories, the number of articles and the percentage of articles in each classification. These data provide an indication of the five-year trend-line for research interests in onomastic scholarship. The authors of the articles and notes in NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics are on the faculty of universities in nineteen nations: (1) Australia, (2) Canada; (3) The Czech Republic, (4) France, (5) Germany, (6) Israel, (7) Japan, (8) Jordan, (9) Kazakhstan, (10) Kuwait, (11)

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Malaysia, (12) Nigeria, (13) Poland, (14) South Africa, (15) Spain, (16) the Netherlands, (17) The United Kingdom, (18) USA and (19) Zimbabwe. The largest number of authors, however, is from the US.

Anthroponyms This category includes various manifestations of personal names. These studies feature research on the following topics: Adaptation of foreign names, courtesy titles, ethnonyms, forenames, marital surname choice, name change, name popularity, nicknames, presentation names, pseudonyms, slave names, sociolinguistic and psycholinguistic aspects of name choice, and surnames. This is the largest category with 46 citations and it constitutes fifty per cent (.50%) of the total articles and notes (92). These essays include Abel (2009, 2010), Abel and Kruger (2011), Adams (2008a, 2008b, 2009), Barry and Harper (2010), Bloothooft and Groot (2008), Bloothooft and Onland (2011), Bruhn, Huschka and Wagner (2012), Burt (2009), Callary (2008), Cheng (2008), Darrrington (2008), Darwish (2010), Emmelhainz (2012), Evans (2008), Ge (2011), Guéguen and Pascal (2011), Haggan (2008), Heffernan (2010), Huschka, Gerhards and Wagner (2009), Ikotun (2010), Kerns (2011), Laskowski (2010), Laversuch (2010, 2011), Leung (2011), Lillian (2008), Lombard (2011), MacEacheron (2011), Makondo (2008), Makoni, Makoni and Pfukwa (2010), Mateos and Tucker (2008), Meir, Ephratt, Rabin and Shiber (2011), Neethling (2008), Newman, Hernández, Bakina and Rutchick (2009), Nuessel (2008), Odebode (2010), Picard (2009, 2012), Ragone (2012), Raper (2010), Starks, Leech and Willoughby (2012), Thomas (2010), Tucker (2009).

Literary onomastics This category includes fictional names in literature and comic strips. The studies include the significance of the names chosen for characters in literary works and comics. Literary onomastic names refer to fictional characters rather than real people. This category is the second largest with 18 citations, or .195% of the total articles and notes (92). The authors studied include Julia Álvarez, Samuel Beckett, Miguel de Cervantes, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Lord Dunsany, John Hynes, Ursula K. Le Guin, Doris Lessing, H. P. Lovecraft, John Milton, Toni Morrison, Marilynne Robinson, J. K. Rowling, Mark Twain and Virginia Woolf. One study examines names in British West Indies children’s literature, and another examines techniques employed by authors to name characters. Two studies

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investigate comics (Dick Tracy and Uncle $crooge). These essays include Black and Wilcox (2011), Cantor (2012), Charron (2009), Chen (2008), Compagnone and Danesi (2012), De Vinne (2012), Hramova (2010), Kostetskaya (2010), Lyles-Scott (2008), Marshall (2009), Nuessel (2009, 2012c), Petit (2010), Robbins (2010), Robinson (2010, 2011, 2012), Sands-O’Connor (2008).

Place names This category includes toponyms. This category is the third largest with 15 citations, or .162% of the total articles and notes (92). The following countries had place name studies (with number of studies in parentheses): Australia (2), the Czech Republic (1), Nigeria (1), Poland (1), South Africa (3), Spain (1) and USA (6). These essays include Abel and Kruger (2008), Bigon (2011), Crosetto and Atwood (2012), David (2011), Edney (2009), McCafferty (2012), Nash (2012), Ortells Cabrera and Kent (2009), Raper (2008, 2009a, 2009b), Rutkiewicz-Hanczewska (2010), Stewart (2012 [1954]), Tent and Blair (2011), Tucker (2011).

Name of the year This is an annual report of a tradition patterned on the American Dialect Society’s annual Word of the Year meeting in which words for the previous year are nominated and voted on by the members of the audience. Evans (2010a: 99) cites Allan Metcalf, American Dialect Society, who proposed having an annual “word of the year” as a way of garnering positive publicity for the society. In his brief history of the “name of the year” Cleveland Kent Evans (2010: 99) notes that he had this idea in 2003, which he proposed to the American Name Society Executive Council. It was approved and the “name of the year” started at the annual meeting in 2006 for names from the calendar year 2005. This feature of the American Name Society annual meeting has called positive attention to the Society’s activities. It must be noted that at the 2007 ANS meeting, the “name of the year” for 2008 would no longer be a single category, but rather it would have four subcategories: (1) Place Name, (2) Trade Name, (3) Fictional Name, and (4) Personal Name. However, once the winners for each of these subdivisions were decided, there would be a final vote for overall Name of the Year. The “name of the year” includes the following winners in sequential order: (1) “Fahrenheit 9/11” (Michael Moore’s documentary movie), 2004 (Evans 2010: 99); (2) “Katrina” (hurricane), 2005 (Evans

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2010a: 99); (3) “Pluto” (planet), 2006 (Evans 2010a: 99); (4) “Betrayus” (US military general), 2007 (Evans 2010a: 100); (5) “Barack Hussein Obama” (President of the US), 2008 (Evans 2010a: 101); (6) “Salish Sea” (sea located between the US and Canada), 2009 (Evans 2010b: 98); (7) “Eyjafjallajökull” (erupting volcano in Iceland), 2010 (Evans 2011: 119); and (8) “Arab Spring” (wave of revolutionary protests in the Arab world), 2011 (Evans 2012: 108). This category is the fourth largest with 6 citations, or .065% of the total articles and notes (92). These essays include Evans (2008a, 2009, 2010a, 2010b, 2011, 2012).

Other This category includes articles and notes that did not clearly fall under the four previous categories, i.e., the names of popular singing groups (Lee 2009), name theory (Algeo 2010 [1985]), the names for puzzles and mathematical problems (Nuessel 2011a), dog names (Brandes 2012) and the names of selected sports plays (Nuessel 2012b). This category is the fifth largest with 5 citations, or .054% of the total articles and notes (92). These essays include Algeo (2010 [1985]), Brandes (2012), Lee (2009), Nuessel (2011b, 2012b).

Brand names This category includes two studies on energy drink brand names and an overview of the process of creating brand names. This category is the smallest with just 2 citations, or .021% of the total articles and notes (92). These essays include Danesi (2011), which is a study of techniques for naming products and services, and Nuessel (2010), which examines the names for energy drinks. Table 1 summarises the categories represented in this empirical study of the content of articles and notes in the nineteen issues of NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics published during my editorship.

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Table 1. Articles and Notes in NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics by Category, Number and Percentage Onomastic category Anthroponyms Literary Onomastics Place Names Name of the Year Other Brand Names

Total items in category 46 18 15 6 5 2 92

Percentage .500% .195% .163% .065% .054% .021% .997 (Rounding accounts for this figure)

Concluding remarks In this empirical study of the articles and notes in NAMES: A Journal of Onomastic and within the context of the title of this anthology, Onomastics in the Contemporary Public Space, it is possible to state that all names occupy a public space because they are used to identify people, places, concepts, objects and brands, all of which populate communal areas in society. This is evidenced by the American Name Society’s introduction of an annual session dedicated to “Name of the Year,” which originally provided ANS members with the opportunity to vote on one name. Subsequently, four subdivisions were devised beginning in 2008. These four subcategories reflect current research trends. The six categories included in this study indicate that the three most frequent areas of research are anthroponyms, literary onomastics and place names with personal names the overwhelming area of scholarly research, with a significantly higher representation over the second (literary onomastics) and third (toponomy) categories. Because articles and notes included in NAMES: A Journal of Onomastic are refereed, this means that anthroponyms constitute the largest domain of scholarly research during the past five years followed by literary onomastics and place names. This overview provides an overview of research in one onomastic journal headquartered in the US, but with contributions from authors in eighteen nations outside the US.

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References Abel, E.L. 2009. Women who fight. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 57 (3): 141-161. —. 2010. Influence of names on career choices in medicine. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 58 (2): 65-74. Abel, E.L., and M.L. Kruger. 2008. Going to the devil. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 56 (2): 95-105. —. 2011. Taking thy husband’s name: The role of religious affiliation. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 59 (1): 12-24. Adams, M. 2008a. Assimilation of French-Canadian names into New England speech: Notes from a Vermont cemetery. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 56 (2): 65-80. —. 2008b. Nicknames, interpellation, and Dubya’s theory of the state. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 56 (4): 206-220. —. 2009. Power, politeness, and the pragmatics of nicknames. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 57 (2): 81-91. Algeo, J. 2010 (1985). Is a theory of names possible? NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 58 (2): 90-96. (Originally published in 1985 in NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 33: 136-144.) American Name Society. 2012. http://www.wtsn.binghamton.edu/ans/ (accessed July 5, 2012). Barry, H. III, and A.S. Harper. 2010. Racial and gender differences in diversity of first names. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 58 (1): 47-54. Bigon, L. 2011. The Former Names of Lagos (Nigeria) in Historical Perspective. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 59 (3): 229-240. Black, S., and B. Wilcox. 2011. Sense and serendipity: Some ways fiction writers choose character names. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 59 (3): 152-163. Bloothooft, G., and L. Groot. 2008. Name clustering on the basis of parental preferences. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 56 (3): 111163. Bloothooft. G., and A. Onland. 2011. Socioeconomic determinants of first names. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 59 (1): 25-41. Brandes, S. 2012. Dear Rin Tin Tin: An analysis of William Safire’s dognaming survey from 1985. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 60 (1): 314. Bruhn, A., D. Huschka and G.G. Wagner. 2012. Naming and war in modern Germany. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 60 (2): 74-89. Burt, S.M. 2009. Naming, re-naming, and self-naming among HmongAmericans. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 57 (4): 236-245.

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Callary, E.L. 2008. Presentation names: Their distribution in space and time. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 56 (4): 195-205. Cantor, R.G. 2012. Hierarchical naming in Milton’s Paradise Lost and Twain’s Diaries of Adam and Eve. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 60 (2): 65-73. Charron, M. 2009. Naming and translation/naming in translation: Towards a close reading of Don Quijote (part I, chapter I). NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 57 (1): 17-29. Chen., L.N. 2008. Ethnic marked names as a reflection of United States isolationist attitudes in Uncle $crooge comic books. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 56 (1): 19-22. Cheng, K.K.Y. 2008. Names in multilingual-multicultural Malaysia. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 56 (1): 47-53. Compagnone, V., and M. Danesi. 2012. Mythic and occultist naming strategies in Harry Potter. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 60 (3): 127-134. Crosetto, A., and T.A. Atwood. 2012. Naming academic libraries: Is institutional identity obscuring the generous benefactors and illustrious educators of old? NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 60 (2): 90-104. Danesi, M. 2011. What’s in a brand name? A note on the onomastics of brand naming. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 59 (3): 175-185. Darrington, A. 2008. A note on perceived male/female differences in the giving of less-than-perfect names. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 56 (1): 54-56. Darwish, I. 2010. Pre-peace and post-peace referring in Jordanian journalistic Arabic. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 58 (4): 191-196. David, J. 2011. Commemorative place names—Their specificity and problems. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 59 (3): 214-228. De Vinne, C. 2012. The uncanny unnamable in Doris Lessing’s The Fifth Child and Ben, in the World. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 60 (1): 15-25. Edney, M.H. 2009. The Anglophone Toponyms Associated with John Smith’s Description and Map of New England. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 57 (4): 189-207. Emmelhainz, C. 2012. Naming a new self: Identity elasticity and selfdefinition in voluntary name changes. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 60 (3): 156-165. Evans, C.K. 2008a. A note on US immigrants’ choice of baby names. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 56 (1): 39-40. —. 2008b. 2007 name of the year. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 56 (2): 107-108.

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—. 2009. 2008 names of the year. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 57 (2): 120-121. —. 2010a. Name of the year—a short history. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 58 (2): 99-101. —. 2010b. 2009 name of the year. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 58 (2): 97-98. —. 2011. 2010 name of the year. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 59 (2): 118-119. —. 2012. Name of the year 2011. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 60 (2): 107-108. Gasque, T. 2012. Six decades of the American Name Society, 1951-2009. http://www.wtsn.binghamton.edu/ans/ (accessed July 25, 2012). Ge, G. 2011. Shall I name her “Wisdom” or “Elegance”?—Naming in China. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 59 (3): 164-174. Guéguen, N., and D.A. Pascual. 2011. Mister “Py” is probably a good mathematician: An experimental study of the subjective attractiveness of family names. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 59 (1): 52-56. Haggan, M. 2008. Nicknames of Kuwaiti teenagers. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 56 (2): 81-94. Heffernan, K. 2010. English name use by East Asians in Canada: Linguistic pragmatics or cultural identity? NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 58 (1): 24-36. Hramova, T. 2010. The study of names in Samuel Beckett’s texts: Problems and prospects. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 58 (1): 5-12. Huschka, D., J. Gerhards and G.G. Wagner. 2009. Naming differences in divided Germany. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 57 (4): 208-228. Ikotun, R.O. 2010. The Social Use of Yorùbá Personal Names. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 58 (3): 169-186. Kerns, M.Y. 2011. North American women’s surname choice based on ethnicity and self-identification as feminists. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 59 (2): 104-117. Kostetskaya, A.G. 2010. Crime is in the eye of the beholder: Petr Petrovich Luzhin as a distorting “puddle-mirror” in Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 58 (4): 231-241. Laskowski, K.A. 2010. Women’s post-marital name retention and the communication of identity. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 58 (2): 75-89. Laversuch, I.M. 2010. Margarete and Sulamith under the Swastika: Girls’ names in Nazi Germany. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 58 (4): 219-230.

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—. 2011. “May change name and pretend to be free”: A corpus linguistic investigation of surnames adopted by fugitive slaves as advertised in colonial American newspapers between 1729-1818. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 59 (3): 191-203. Lee, M. 2009. Selling decency and innocence: Names of singing groups in the Malt Shop Memories collection. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 57 (3): 162-174. Leung, G. 2011. Disambiguating the term “Chinese”: An analysis of Chinese American surname naming practices. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 59 (3): 204-213. Lillian, D.L. 2008. Ethnicity and women’s courtesy titles: A preliminary report. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 56 (4): 231-238. Lombard, C.G. 2011. The sociocultural significance of Niitsitapi personal names: An ethnographic analysis. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 59 (1): 42-51. Lyles-Scott. C. 2008. A slave by any other name: Names and identity in Toni Morrison’s Beloved. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 56 (1): 23-28. MacEacheron, M.D. 2011. Hawaii data: Women’s marital surname change by bride’s age and jurisdiction of residence. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 59 (1): 4-11. Makondo, L. 2008. Ethnicity and matriarchal protest: A case of dialoguing Shona personal names. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 56 (1): 10-18. Makoni, B., S. Makoni and C. Pfukwa. 2010. Language planning, language ideology and entextualization: War naming practices. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 58 (4): 197-208. Maney Publishing. 2012. http://www.maney.co.uk/ (accessed July 5, 2012). Marshall, A.D. 2009. “Onomastic emphasis” in Julia Álvarez’s Saving the World. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 57 (4): 229-235. Mateos. P., and K. Tucker. 2008. Forenames and surnames in Spain in 2004. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 56 (3): 165-184. McCafferty, M. 2012. Returning to Missouri. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 60 (2): 105-106. Meir, N., M. Ephratt, S. Rabin and A. Shiber. 2011. Names and narcissism: A clinical perspective on how parents choose names for their newborn. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 59 (2): 90-103. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 2012. http://maney.co.uk/index.php/ journals/nam/ (accessed July 5, 2012). Nash, J. 2012. Pristine Toponymy and embedded placenames on islands. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 60 (3): 166-172.

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Neethling, B. 2008. Xhosa first names: A dual identity in harmony or in conflict? NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 56 (1): 32-38. Newman, L.S., W. Hernández, D.A. Bakina and A.A. Rutchick. 2009. Implicit egotism on the baseball diamond: Why Peter Piper prefers to pitch for the Pittsburgh Pirates. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 57 (3): 175-179. Nuessel. F. 1992. The Study of Names: A Guide to the Principles and Topics. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press. —. 2008. A note on ethnophaulisms and hate speech. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 56 (1): 29-31. —. 2009. A note on the names of selected characters and villains in Dick Tracy. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 57 (1): 63-68. —. 2010a. A note on the names of energy drinks and products. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 58 (2): 102-110. —. 2010b. Award for the best article in NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 2009. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 58 (1): 55. —. 2011a. Editorial. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 59 (4): 189-190. —. 2011b. A note on the names of mathematical problems and puzzles. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 59 (1): 57-60. —. 2011c. Award for the best article in NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 2010. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 59 (1): 61. —. 2012a. Award for the best article in NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 2011. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 60 (1): 56-57. —. 2012b. A note on selected named sports plays. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 60 (3): 173-175. —. 2012c. A note on selected names in James Hynes’s academic novel The Lecturer’s Tale. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 60 (2): 109-116. Odebode, I. 2010. Naming systems during Yoruba wars: A sociolinguistic study. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 58 (4): 209-218. Ortells Cabrera, V., and R.B. Kent. 2009. Residential toponyms and urban change (1890-2000) in a seaside resort town, Benicàssim, Spain. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 57 (2): 92-119. Petit. D. 2010. Names in Marilynne Robinson’s Gilead and Home. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 58 (3): 139-149. Picard, M. 2009. Genealogical evidence and the Americanization of European family names. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 57 (1): 30-51. —. 2012. On the translation of French-Canadian family names in English. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 60 (3): 150-155. Ragone, A.C.M. 2012. Onomastics among Hispanic migrants in south central Pennsylvania. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 60 (1): 36-45.

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Raper, P.E. 2008. Tshwane, a San name for Pretoria. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 56 (4): 221-230. —. 2009a. Descriptive Zulu placenames of San origin. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 57 (1): 3-16. —. 2009b. The component Kwa- in Zulu placenames derived from Khoisan. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 57 (3): 127-140. —. 2010. The ethnonyms =Aunin, Topnaars, and !Naranin. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 58 (1): 37-46. Robbins, D.D. 2010. Naming Shakespeare’s sister: Why Woolf chose Judith. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 58 (3): 150-158. Robinson, C.L. 2010. Teratonymy: The weird and monstrous names of HP Lovecraft. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 58 (3): 127-138. —. 2011. Onomaturgy vs. onomastics: An introduction to the namecraft of Ursula K. Le Guin. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 59 (3): 129-138. —. 2012. The stuff of which names are made: A look at the colorful and eclectic namecraft of Lord Dunsany. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 60 (1): 26-35. Rutkiewicz-Hanczewska, M. 2010. Proper names in the Polish global reality. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 58 (3): 159-168. Sands-O’Connor, K. 2008. After midnight: Naming, West Indians, and British children’s literature. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 56 (1): 41-46. Starks, D., K.-T. Leech and L. Willoughby. 2012. Nicknames in Australian secondary schools: Insights into nicknames and adolescent views of self. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 60 (3): 135-149. Stewart, G.R. 2012 (1954). A classification of place names. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 60 (1): 46-55. (Originally published in 1954 in NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 2 (1): 1-13.) Tent, J., and D. Blair. 2011. Motivations for naming: The development of a toponymic typology for Australian placenames. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 59 (2): 67-89. Thomas. M. 2010. Names, epithets, and pseudonyms in linguistic case studies: A historical overview. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 58 (1): 13-23. Tucker, D.K. 2009. Increased competition and reduced popularity—US given name trends of the twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 57 (1): 52-62. Tucker, G.R. 2011. Re-naming Texas: Competing Mexican and Anglo placenaming in Texas, 1821-1836. NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics 59 (3): 139-151.

PART IV: NAMES OF OBJECTS/ENTITIES RESULTING FROM VARIOUS PROCESSES IN PUBLIC SPACE

SECTION ONE: NAMES OF FOODS, DRINKS AND FOOD BRANDS

INNOVATION AND CREATIVITY IN THE COINAGE OF NEW NAMES FOR SOUTH AFRICAN WINE: A FEW CASE STUDIES BERTIE NEETHLING Introduction Wine has been an acceptable drink in many contexts over a very long period of time. Within the context of this volume, i.e., the role of onomastics in contemporary public spaces, wines with their accompanying names are an excellent example. Wine is, of course, also used on a great scale in more formal contexts, but is sure to be outdone in social interaction in relatively informal contexts, such as at home, among friends, in restaurants and at informal events, as well as at wine tasting events. South Africa is by far the biggest wine producing country in Africa. The focus of the industry is in the Western Cape province, the province with a huge coastline in the far south, where the Indian and the Atlantic oceans meet. Within a bigger context based on 2010 data (see Platter 2012), South Africa finds itself in the 8th position of the top wine producing countries in the world in terms of the volume of wine produced. Italy (17.9%) is at the top, closely followed by France (17.1%) with Spain (12.2%) in the third place. South Africa currently produces 3.7% of the global volume, although there are indicators that the industry is economically under pressure. There are currently some 3,596 grape growers and 573 grape crushers, i.e., those making wines. An interesting fact is that smaller microcellars producing fewer than 100 tonnes still constitute ± 46% of all producers and demonstrate the “power of passion over economics” (Platter 2012: 38). In terms of export, the total of South African wine going to other countries in 2010 is 378.5 million litres or 48.5% of the total production. That means that the other half is for consumers in South Africa. The top five markets for South African wine, whether packaged or bulk, are, in descending order, the United Kingdom, Germany, Sweden, the Netherlands and Denmark. For packaged wine only, the 5 countries remain at the top,

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with the USA coming in below them. According to Platter (2012: 40), the USA is considered the “holy grail” by many exporters. South Africa has to compete with the so-called “New World” winegrowers, like Australia, Chile and Argentina. New markets for South Africa appear to be African countries like Kenya, Tanzania and Nigeria, but also in South America like Brazil and in Asia, notably China. It seems to be clear then that South African winemakers need to keep an eye on the export market and need to try to improve the volume of wine leaving South Africa, as well as the local consumers. Wine (± 12%) is way behind the beer consumers (±46%) in South Africa, so there is room for improvement.

Multilingual and multicultural aspects Wine producing countries that are essentially monolingual—like the top three on the list, i.e., Italy, France and Spain—may probably not be as concerned about their wine names and information as they appear on the front and back label. They may be perfectly happy to stick to the original. In a multilingual country like South Africa, that situation is more complex and challenging. It might be worth the effort to produce wines with a “South African” name in some or all of the languages spoken in South Africa. There are eleven official languages. There are, however, a number of aspects that militate against this. The indigenous people of South Africa are not traditional wine drinkers and, despite attempts by winemakers to introduce wine names from the traditional indigenous Bantu languages (see Neethling 2009), this has not been that successful. Although this is difficult to assess, such wines are not prominent and it looks as if the attempt has largely failed. Winemakers realise that they should perhaps focus more on the English and Afrikaans speaking people who traditionally are more regular wine drinkers. Instead of winning over indigenous wine drinkers through an indigenous name, such a name might not be as attractive to the English or Afrikaans speaking wine drinkers. Another very common argument is that the speakers of the indigenous Bantu languages, as they progress in life in the “new” South Africa after 1994, tend to embrace particularly English as the empowering language in South Africa. It therefore looks as if there is a return to English and, to a lesser degree, also Afrikaans names. Some wine producers go beyond that and use names from, e.g., France, Italy and the Netherlands. A significant proportion of winemakers and even owners of wine estates are Afrikaans speaking and recent complaints in the press, mostly from consumers, suggest that even the Afrikaans winemakers are turning

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to English, not only for the export market which might be understandable, but even for the local market that is often Afrikaans speaking. The Afrikaans speaking community, mostly fully bilingual, experiences this as a great loss and another setback for the promotion of Afrikaans, a battle that is currently severely fought between protagonists and antagonists of the Afrikaans cause (see Van Wyk 2011).

Trade marks as intellectual property In South Africa the body that until recently administered the Register of Trade Marks was called CIPRO: Companies and Intellectual Property Registration Office. The register contained the record of all the trade marks that have been formally applied for and registered in the Republic of South Africa (see http://www.cipro.co.za/products_services/trademarks .asp). A new Companies Act transformed CIPRO into the newly established independent organ of state with significantly expanded functions and powers to be known as the Companies and Intellectual Property Commission (CIPC). A trade mark is a brand name, a slogan or a logo and it identifies the services or goods of one person or company from that of another. A brand name is a word or combination of words, whereas a slogan is a short phrase or a sentence, and a logo is a distinctive picture or symbol. Many wine producers use a combination of these (see Bugheúiu 2012: 390-92 for a detailed discussion of different types of trade names). The website of CIPRO (still in use) makes it clear that their vision is to provide global leadership in the efficient registration of businesses and intellectual property rights and that their slogan is “Gateway to formal economic participation” (see website). The corporate values that they subscribe to are listed as follows: - Fairness; - Accuracy; - Honesty/Integrity; - Customer Focus; - Accountability; - Trust; - Empowerment; - Transparency. It is to CIPRO then (and now CIPC) that the many wine estates have to turn to every time they come up with a new name, in order to have it registered. A registered trade mark can be protected forever, provided it is renewed every ten years upon payment of a renewal fee. This is probably

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applicable to the name of the estate or winery or cellar, which remains a constant feature. A few random examples could be Nederburg, Rust en Vrede, Neethlingshof, Le Bonheur, Fairview and hundreds of others. These names invariably have to do with the history or origin of the wine estate or cellar and not directly with the names of the wines they are producing. It is often referred to as the domain name or the primary trade mark. It is the secondary trade mark that is the focus in this contribution, i.e., a particular name linked with a new wine. Before wine estates turn to CIPRO/CIPC to have trade marks registered, they invariably make use of legal companies to represent them. These are many and there is a process that has to be followed. A wine estate often consults a design agency with all the information they have on the new wine, and then these agencies will eventually come back to the wine estate with a few suggestions (see Groenewald and Olivier 2012). Once a name has been chosen, then a body dealing with legal matters will take this further, checking to see if the chosen name does not already exist. If not, then registration thereof can take place through CIPRO/CIPC and the name is formally recognised. A company representing one of these intellectual property lawyers is Dr Gerntholtz Inc, based in Cape Town, specialising in patents, designs, trade marks and copyright. In Platter (2012: 310-11) this company has an advertisement around this matter and, because Platter is a publication only about wine, by using a wine bottle they indicate all the various subsections on a wine bottle that could be protected as aspects of intellectual property. These are (from the top of the bottle down): winery seal trade mark, patent for closure, design of capsule, design of bottle, copyright in logo trade mark, domain name/primary trade mark, bottle as container trade mark, copyright in label design and secondary trade mark. It seems quite clear that winemakers and cellars need to be careful that they do not infringe on any of these.

Examples/Case studies from South African wines A random look at wine names, mostly of a new range introduced by a cellar or an estate that emerged around 2010/2011, proves that there are an extraordinary great number of new examples, which seems to suggest that winemakers are continuously producing new wines whether from old cultivars or new ones, or blends of cultivars. The new wines need to get new names and the approaches followed vary. Some concerns are so big (like Distell, for example) that they can afford to make use of naming agencies. They supply the comments of sensory panels about the taste of

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the new wine to the agencies, who consider all the relevant aspects and then come up with a name or usually more than one example, and suggest that to the wine cellar or estate to make a choice. The variety of approaches is astonishing and one is impressed by the innovativeness and ingenuity of the agencies as well as the wine cellars themselves that cannot afford the involvement of an agency. Many winemakers realise that wine is mostly consumed in fairly informal contexts and hence often try to come up with wine names that would add to the enjoyment of the informal social gathering. It is impossible to illustrate all the options exercised, there are simply too many. What follows below is a choice from many available options. The purpose would be to use different examples that each illustrates a specific approach so as to emphasise the imaginative and innovative ways that are used in developing a new wine and its name. The order is simply random. All the websites of the cellars, wineries or estates are listed in the references. (1) Swartland Winery, Malmesbury Name of wine: d’vine Chenin Blanc/Sauvignon Blanc Rose Delicious Daydream Denim Different Discreet

Delightful Design Detail Dream Deejay

Cabernet Sauvignon Dark Delicate Dawn Dine Dual

Swartland is a predominantly Afrikaans winery, situated in a predominantly Afrikaans speaking area, having decided to exploit the name d’vine, which could be interpreted as “the vine,” but obviously also as “divine,” i.e., ‘great, fantastic, wonderful, of good quality etc.’ The name is given to three types of wine and each one is supported by the list of terms above, which even includes “denim,” a popular material in clothing for mostly the younger generation, but also applicable to the older one. The purpose seems to promote the wine as “divine” but also different in taste and exceptional, making use of English descriptors, nouns or verbs. All the terms start with the letter ³',´ ostensibly linking up with “d’vine.” Preference is therefore given to English in spite of the fact that it is a predominantly Afrikaans concern from management right down to elementary manual labourers. This is one clear example of how Afrikaans

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is losing ground to English in terms of information on wine labels (see Van Wyk 2011). (2) Zonnebloem Wines (ex Distell) Name of wine: Place in the Sun (various cultivars) The name of the wine is focussed on two aspects: the abundance of sunshine experienced in South Africa (the Western Cape), as well as a more humanistic and equitable factor. The label suggests that the vineyards experience 300 days of sunshine per year, hence it is certainly “a place in the sun.” The wine also carries the Fairtrade label/logo that a number of wines share. Fairtrade is an organisation that ploughs back money for every Fairtrade bottle of wine sold to the farm workers, which is used for social and economic investment. This usually includes funding of education and training programmes for the workers and their families or the improvement of services and infrastructure (www.fairtradelabel. org.za/product/wine.1.html). The name of the wine, therefore, suggests that there is room for everybody in the viticulture industry and that everybody has a “Place in the Sun.” It is clear that a lot of thought went into the eventual selection of the name and it goes beyond the obvious, the more literal interpretation, to another more humanistic feature. Fairtrade does not only apply to wine, but also other products. There are currently more than 25 companies involved in Fairtrade winemaking and trading. (3) Goose Wines > The “Goose Wine” Name of wine: “The Goose” Expression (50% Shiraz + 50% Cabernet Sauvignon blend) Retief Goosen is a world class South African golfer who has been rated among the best in the world for more than a decade. He resides on a farm in the Upper Langkloof valley, considered as part of the Garden Route between CapeTown and Port Elizabeth all along the Indian Ocean. The name on the original title deed of the farm is “Ganzekraal,” which means ‘Goose closure or enclave.’ Wild geese from the area flew down and rested and foraged in the cattle and sheep enclosures as these were out on pasture. Retief Goosen acquired this piece of land more than a hundred years later and in March 2007, with some partners, the “Goose Wines Company” was established (also see Heyns 2010). The guttural G of Retief’s surname has been a challenge to many golf commentators all across the world and he soon became known as “Goose.” On the course he is known for his extremely calm demeanour, never showing any emotion, be it joy or disappointment.

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The name “Expression” exploits this feature of Goosen and his company has taken this name suggesting that he expresses himself and his class through his wine. The company has also exploited the obvious “Gander” name (“what is sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander”). This is used for the cheaper range. (4) Annandale Wines Name of wine: Chalbert Merlot 2005 A well known winemaker, Hempies du Toit, was approached by Mr Mike Wittstock, the father of Charlene Wittstock, to produce a wine that could be served at the wedding ceremony of Charlene Wittstock, a South African, with Prince Albert of Monaco. He blended their two names, Charlene and Albert, to create the name Chalbert for the Merlot that he had been keeping in barrels for a number of years to mature. He claims that the Merlot wine, a cultivar traditionally from Pomerol in France, has all the qualities of a good merlot: soft, full bodied with the flavour of ripe red berries. To link up with the wedding, he describes the wine as “like a newly wed, full of hope and expectations with the unrestricted lifetime of a connoisseur.” The labels were developed in France with a French description and the story of the wedding on the back and the initials of the bridal couple. This is an example of how the names of people in the limelight can give rise to the name of a wine, commemorating their wedding. Charlene, a former South African Olympic swimmer, visits South Africa often, where she is involved in charity work (see also Krige 2011). (5) La Vierge Private Cellar (‘The virgin’) Name of wine: Black Madonna Pinot Noir Situated in the Hemel-en-Aarde (‘Heaven and Earth’) valley near Hermanus, the estate exploits the name of this locality in the description of their wines. The land was called “La Vierge” (‘The Virgin’) because no vines were planted before the cellar was built. They have what they call “The story of La Vierge” with the subheading “Paradise Awaits—A Tale of Imagination.” Their website is actually fascinating to read: “The provenance of untouched beauty suggests a lush verdant paradise, as reflected in the design theme of the Garden of Eden.” And further: “This is a place of distinction, where we celebrate outstanding wine—gods and mortals unite!” On all their products a quotation from Oscar Wilde appears: “The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.”

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In a personal communication from the winemaker, he describes their “design language” as including their names, images and colours: provocative, tempting, irreverent, poking fun, sexy, slightly ancient, slightly new and slightly religious. Their logo includes Adam and Eve, the serpent and the apple, the Garden of Eden, maidens, angels, halos, queens, naked roman figures and tropical heraldry. Names of wines in the lower range are Jezebelle, Original Sin, Last Temptation and Nymphomane. At my question, whether these names appeal to buyers from overseas, the winemaker suggested that they do, but they needed to be explained. He also emphasised the fact that some sensitivity is needed for the local more conservative market (religious groups in South Africa), as well as internationally with markets such as the Mid-West United States (see Van Halderen 2012). The Black Madonna wine is described as follows: “Whether a mythically pagan goddess of feminine power as Isis, or the popular Catholic depiction of the Virgin Mary with a darker complexion as reflected in statues or paintings around the world, the Black Madonna or Blanc Virgin is an apt name for our maiden Pinot Noir.” It is abundantly clear that La Vierge is not only careful with the name of one specific wine, but that all their wines fit comfortably within the “design language” context that they have created, linking all their names to the setting (“Hemel-en-Aarde” valley) and the many connotations emerging from that. (6) Fairview Wine Estate Name of wine: La Capra (with a number of varietal options) The Fairview Wine Estate is a popular one for many reasons. It is an established wine producing estate and later a goat herd was established that was responsible for a range of cheeses alongside the wines. A goat tower was erected with goats moving up and down and it became a popular sight for visitors. Although the owner did not want to recognise this, he created a range of wines called “Goats do Roam,” which was considered as “a jibe at the French” with their familiar wines called Côte du Rhône. The goats are playing a significant role at Fairview, in both the wine and cheese contexts. The La Capra range comprises nine single varietal wines. The style emphasises the fruit flavours characteristic of each grape varietal. The name is Italian for ‘goat,’ referring to the Fairview goat herd. La rhymes with the Egyptian sun god Ra and Capra also points to the Cape Cap, suggesting a Cape to Cairo connection. Influences in the development of the La Capra brand are, inter alia, a strong Balkan musical influence with the celebration of life and

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provenance featuring prominently. It is about sharing and celebrating with friends. It is about a light-hearted and gregarious approach to life and the label shows the various elements that comprise the brand, from the quirky goats to the cheese produced at the Fairview Vineyard Cheesery. A presentation on the Internet (in the form of a “concert presentation”) illustrates this well. (7) Boland Cellar Name of wine: cappupino ccinotage (Pinotage) Pinotage is the red wine variety that was developed in South Africa. Although there are now plantings in other parts of the world, it is unique to the country. Abraham Izak Perold combined the Pinot Noir variety with Hermitage (later known as Cinsaut) in 1925 and the name “Pinotage” came into being. It took some time for the wine to develop properly and it was only in 1961 that the name “Pinotage” appeared on the label of a Lanzerac wine from Stellenbosch Farmer’s Winery (SFW). It is probably not the most popular wine in South Africa, but it is common now and often used as a blend with other varieties. The latest and fastest growing trend is the production of coffee styled Pinotage. It has a distinct mocha or coffee nose and taste, and is becoming popular. Boland Wines followed suit, but when it came to naming, they opted for a combination of “Cappuccino” and “Pinotage,” breaking up both words and using the first two syllables of both words cappu + pino to produce cappupino, and doing the same with the last parts of the words, resulting in ccino + tage, to produce ccinotage. It is clearly an attempt to claim their position within this Pinotage coffee-style trend and to do so effectively through the name. The label on the bottle is striking: The name is presented in its two sections, one below the other: cappu, with ccino below it, is presented in bold white so the name “cappuccino” stands out clearly. The other section pino, with tage below it, is presented in equally bold red, so that “pinotage” stands out clearly. The bottle is black, so the name stands out very clearly; it is from a design perspective innovative and unique, but still easily understood. (8) Bovlei Cellars Name of wine: Mad Hatters’ Malbec Until 2009 all the Bovlei Cellar wines simply had the name of the cellar on the label and below that the particular variety, i.e., Bovlei Cellar Shiraz. In 2010 the cellar introduced a new range called Mad Hatters’. Every wine that was produced in this range was linked to a specific hat worn by a group of people in a certain part of the world. It is clear that the

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cellar wanted to try something new that their varieties could be distinguished by. The Malbec grape variety is extremely common in Argentina and, below the range name, i.e., Mad Hatters’, appears a sketch of an Argentinian cowboy (just the face) wearing the typical gaucho hat worn by them. The term “Mad Hatter” seems to originate from Lewis Carroll’s book Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865). The general manager of Bovlei said that “[…] we decided to develop a new lifestyle range using a bit of fun and irreverence in the packaging to underscore the wines” (www.bovlei.co.za). The label suggests that the “Mad Hatters’ Malbec captures the passion and spirit of Argentina.” It is clear that winemakers are trying their utmost in thinking creatively and innovatively not only about the production of their wines, but also the choice of names and the packaging, particularly through the label. (9) Weltevrede Wine Estate Name of wine: River’s Edge Tricolore Red This estate is situated next to the Breede River and many estates take their inspiration from the river. That explains the “River’s Edge” part. What is more interesting is the French name “Tricolore,” which means ‘three colours.’ These colours do not feature on the label and one then wonders what the inspiration for the name was. The story appears on the back from the winemaker, Philip Jonker: “This wine is about an experience. I was inspired to make this wine whilst working in a cellar in France and it is named after the French flag with its classic three colours, red, white and blue. Tricolore has come to symbolise style, passion and a love of life. With this wine you have purchased you contribute to the ‘Edge of Life Fund,’ a charity committed to healing people in Africa. We salute you for making the difference.” The wine consists of three cultivars, namely Cabernet Sauvignon, Shiraz and Merlot. That also applies to the “three” concept. But then the winemaker was clearly also impressed by the French way of doing things and their general philosophy around the making of wine. Towards the end, however, one also reads about a charity, the Edge of Life Fund. A contribution of every bottle sold goes towards this charity. The “Edge” in the wine name therefore goes beyond the river’s edge. It is then clear that a combination of factors played a role in the coming into being of this wine name.

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(10) Revelation Wines Name of Wine: Cinsaut Revelation 6:4 The winemaker, Bertus van Niekerk, a former minister of religion (for nearly two decades) in the Reformed Church in South Africa (a fairly conservative Christian church), has now turned to winemaking from his garage and is labelled a boutique-garagist. Revelation Wines is certified as “a virtual farm,” i.e., he owns no land and grows no grapes, but that enables him to certify his wines as from 2012 as to origin, vintage and cultivar. His Cinsaut is named after the last book of the Bible, Revelation, which deals with the Apocalypse. In Revelation 6 mention is made of four horses, a white, red, black and grey horse. The red horse is linked to his Cinsaut wine. The artistic label, a fiery naked woman on a red horse holding a sword, was created by his artist wife, Selma Albasinie and was also partly inspired by the French painter, Eugène Delacroix. His coming black Helderberg Cabernet Sauvignon will reflect the black horse, his white Faure Chardonnay the white horse, and the Elgin Riesling the grey horse. The launch of the red wine made the headlines: it was done in the Vasnat Nudist Resort and Spa in Somerset West and it was characterised by a totally naked woman, holding a sword, on a reddish horse. Influenced by his previous position, this is probably not unusual, but the launch would certainly be questioned by many conservative Christians. It is, however, certainly innovative and creative. (11) Riebeek Cellars Name of wine: A few good men 2008 Merlot Riebeek Cellars is situated in the Swartland area, in the little town called Riebeek-Kasteel. It was established in 1941 and since then has consistently provided excellent wines working with a variety of cultivars. The range “A few good men,” contrary to other types of names chosen by the wineries, in this case focuses on the actual team responsible for producing the wine. They are “good” if they can produce good wine. The attractive front label is black with gold lettering and above the name is a very artistic depiction of golden and black silhouettes, metaphorically reflecting the few men instrumental in the cellar. The back label has the following inscription: “A Few Good Men reflect the passion of our winemakers and a few dedicated winegrowers in crafting special wines from premium vineyards. Bottled after slow barrel maturation, we proudly raise our glasses to Johan Vlok for his outstanding effort with this Merlot.”

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The striking range name honours those who were instrumental in producing this wine over years, with the major accolade going to the main cellar master at the time. This is a case where the cellar found the inspiration within the cellar and nowhere else. It is one of the flagship brand names of Riebeek Cellars. (12) uniWines Marketing Name of the wine: ankerman (‘The Foothold’) Shiraz The Afrikaans name emanates from a traditional sport, i.e., tug of war, which is very popular in that area. The town of Rawsonville in the Breedekloof Valley is about an hour’s drive from Cape Town just on the other side of the Huguenot Tunnel and is a small traditional town surrounded by extensive vineyards. UniWines are comprised by a number of cellars working together. Their website reads: “The Huguenot Tunnel transports you to a world where ‘toutrek’ is the most popular sport and you are greeted with a warm wave by every passer-by.” The “ankerman” (‘anchorman’) are the two persons at both ends of the rope and hence the term ‘foothold’: they are the instrumental ones in the tug of war. If they lose their footholds, their team will lose theirs as well. The white wine in this range has a whistle on the label below the “ankerman,” for the referee who will blow the whistle to start the tug of war. It seems as if the metaphorical meaning of the wine, suggesting that it is also “anchoring” the wine industry in that region, goes beyond that, in that persons performing the role of the “ankerman” may also acquire that as a nickname. The website continues: “In the Breedekloof Valley people take your most peculiar attribute, give you an affectionate nickname, and forget your real name.” Afrikaans is the dominating language in that region, hence the choice of name. UniWines just had a huge order by Finland in the required “green” packaging, i.e., PET bottles. This is a new development in the wine industry and a challenging one. (13) Jordan Wine Estate Name of the wine: The Real McCoy 2010 Riesling Until recently a lesser variety, Crouchen Blanc was used to produce a Riesling wine. From the 2010 vintage one could call the real Riesling with its rightful name, i.e., Riesling and Crouchen Blanc may no longer be called Riesling. Now that the confusion has been sorted out, the well known English saying “the real McCoy,” used in many parts of the English speaking world, is used to assure wine connoisseurs that they are now in fact about to drink “real” Riesling, the “real thing” or the “genuine

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article.” The back label says that “The Real McCoy celebrates the legislative change regarding the naming of Riesling in South Africa.” One could consider this wine name category as “Education to the wine drinker,” with the emphasis very clearly on the wine cultivar, i.e., what exact cultivar is inside the bottle. Riesling (maybe Crouchen Blanc?) was popular in South Africa in the 70s and 80s, but was then largely replaced with other white cultivars. Maybe this is a revitalisation of the real cultivar as it is known in other countries such as Germany. The expression is generally considered a corruption of the Scottish “real MacKay” that was first recorded in 1856 as “A drappie o’ the real MacKay” (a drop of the real MacKay) and this is seemingly widely accepted as the origin (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/the_real_McCoy). From there it spread to other parts of the English speaking worlds. (14) Opstal Cellar Name of the wine: Sixpence Cabernet Sauvignon/Merlot 2011 Opstal Cellars, located outside Rawsonville in the Breedekloof district, is now part of Cape Wine Cellars representing and selling wine for six family-run wine estates. Opstal Cellars is owned by the Louw family. In the 1950s and 1960s flocks of sheep roamed the farm and the nickname “Sixpence” was given to the shepherd Daniel Smiles who looked after the sheep. The current owner, Stanley Louw, was only a boy then. The son of Sixpence, Andries, who retired in 2008, still lives on the farm. In time, the farm increased the amount of land under vine and stopped farming with sheep. Vineyards were planted on what had been grazing land and, after the shepherd’s death, the vineyards have been referred to as Sixpence’s Vineyards ever since. According to the owners the wine range is a tribute not only to Sixpence who was a hardworking and trustworthy worker, but “all the legends” that have worked at Opstal. There are even third generation workers on the farm nowadays. The term “sixpence” (‘six pennies’) refers to the British currency of pounds, shillings and pennies that was introduced to South Africa by the British colonialists. The monetary value of a sixpence is very little, but in the context of the nickname assignment, has an endearing element. Within an economic context, the term also suggests that the wine consumer gets good value for money. The front label of the wine is characterised by a picturesque and multicoloured scene of a shepherd and his sheep on the grazing land against the backdrop of the typical blue mountains in that area. The name “Sixpence” is, however, very prominent (see Rudman 2012).

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(15) Perdeberg Winery Name of the wine: Rex Equus (various cultivars) Perdeberg Winery is situated in the Agter-Paarl (Back Paarl) area between Malmesbury and Durbanville and at the foot of the magnificent Paardeberg (Dutch for ‘Horse Mountain’). The Afrikaans word for “paard” is ‘perd,’ hence the winery name became Perdeberg. The mountain range has been named in honour of the wild zebra and quagga that used to roam in that area, and the Perdeberg Winery even suggests that in the early days they were wandering freely through the vineyards. The winery has always had a deep respect for the land and has put in a lot of effort into conserving endangered flora and fauna, hence it was fitting that one of the region’s most legendary indigenous creatures found its way into their hearts and onto their wine label. This culminated in the premium wine range Rex Equus, Latin for ‘King of Horses,’ shaped through passion and dedication. The name on the front label is supplemented by an artistic drawing of a horse’s head. One may liken this example to La Capra of Fairview (‘the goat’ in Italian), but the contexts are different: both are honouring an animal, but in the case of La Capra it is a domesticated animal found on the estate and contributing to the wines through its cheeses. Rex Equus honours an extinct species through an almost mythical symbolism. (16) Elgin Valley Vineyards Name of the wine: Red Lorry (red blend) & Yellow Lorry (Sauvignon Blanc 2010) Elgin is an area that one enters into once on the other side of the Sir Lowry’s Pass (from Cape Town) and it is known for its deciduous fruit growing. Vineyards were, however, also introduced, hence grapes and the accompanying wine is now also common. Elgin Valley is a relatively small boutique winery that is slowly expanding. Exploiting a traditional tongue twister in English, i.e., “Red Lorry, Yellow Lorry,” a red blend, mainly from Shiraz varieties was produced, followed by a white Sauvignon Blanc. The two wines have been launched as a quirky concept, offering good wines at good prices. People promoting the wines in shops should have a bottle of each in every hand, asking the prospective buyer whether they have tried the wine and then challenging them to say both names quickly, exploiting the tongue twister aspect and having some fun. The promoters will also be wearing either a red or yellow apron with the brand slogan “Don’t say it, drink it!” on it. This brand slogan also appears prominently on the red and white wine bottles below the extremely bright and colourful red and yellow lorries.

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This is a case example where two wines are linked through an English tongue twister, a basic linguistic feature which aside from the “red” wine and “white” (‘yellow’) wine has nothing to do with the wine quality or any other obvious link to the estate or surroundings. (17) Hermanuspietersfontein Wine Estate Name of the wine: Swartskaap Cabernet Franc This wine cellar is located in the Hermanus region and the settlement was named after the Dutch individual Hermanus Pieters originally as Hermanuspietersfontein, the same name that the wine cellar carries today. Pieters was a shepherd and a teacher, and moved down into that area with his sheep where there was good grazing and fresh water, hence the “fontein” (‘fountain’) addition. Over the years only the first name remained as the official name for the town. Pieters also taught Dutch and he was at times paid through sheep, not money. The wine cellar, established in 1855, became known for his Bordeau and Rhone style blends, and not any single cultivar wines. When the first Cabernet Franc grapes were harvested and eventually ready for blending, the winemaker felt that it would be good if it could be marketed as a single cultivar wine. It was produced as a Cabernet Franc wine and has done exceptionally well. It has won the SA Terroir award already three times (see Scholtz 2012). The choice of the Afrikaans name Swartskaap is interesting. Swartskaap (‘black sheep’) is an expression mostly used for an individual who is different from the others, often the culprit or the “guilty” one. Its application to the wine was that it did not fit into the wine “family,” being a single cultivar—it did not fit into the “herd” of wines that the cellar produces. Like the general usage of the expression, the wine was singled out, but this general negative attribute has now been turned around into a positive one: different yes, but of outstanding quality. A website describes it thus: “Sometimes families have to bear with a black sheep—or a Swartskaap. One who doesn’t fit in well with the rest and always moves outside of the herd. He is otherwise and always acts differently. He develops his own character outside of the family and is regarded as an outsider. […] This wine is exactly as the name suggests: a ‘black sheep.’ A remarkable wine that stands out on its own, but does not work as a blending component. It also does not promise to present the same variety and style year after year […]” (www.wine.co.za/directory. aspx?).

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Conclusion The creation of new names in whatever context remains challenging. Names have an extremely evocative perception in the minds of many, hence all those in name-giving contexts apply their minds seriously before selecting a name. There are countless examples all across the world of successful names that came to stay and disappointing ones that often came and disappeared. In the commercial world, this is particularly important. Consumers are often attracted by the names of products and hence the provider of the product takes great care in selecting a name for a product. This is also true for the South African wines. It is a huge market with many winemakers often sharing the same cultivar and hence they need to develop a name that distinguishes them from their competitors. The case studies have shown that the inspiration for the wine name comes from many sources. Often the inspiration is in the wine or on the estate in the form of all the contributors to the final product. Sometimes the inspiration is to be found in nearby surroundings; at other times it is far away. The connotations that the names evoke are fully exploited. The possibilities are nearly endless and the creative and innovative winemakers or the agencies that assist them produce a great number of extremely interesting choices. It is often the case that a single name is a representation of a number of influences. It would indeed be interesting to assess the selected names of this study in a few years’ time, to see whether they persisted to be available and/or whether they disappeared to make room for many other “new faces.” The field of commercial names is becoming very prominent within onomastics and studies in this area are possible all across the world, because we live in a consumer world. Finding the right name for a product will certainly add to its success among consumers and this is an unfailing recipe for new commercial names making their appearance continuously.

References Bugheúiu, A. 2012. On Brands and Branding in the Romanian Space. In Name and Naming: Synchronic and Diachronic Perspectives, O. Felecan (ed.), 388-400. Cambridge Scholars Publishing Groenewald, C., and J. Olivier. 2011. Interview on December at Distell, Stellenbosch. Heyns, E. 2010. Cool and classy. Wineland 30-31. Krige, I. 2011. Monaco proe toe ‘n Springbok-wyn. Die Burger July.

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Lavric, E., F. Fischer, C. Konzett, J. Kuhn and H. Wochele (eds.). 2009. People, Products, and Professions. Sprache im Kontext band 32. Peter Lang: Frankfurt am Main. Neethling, B. 2009. Names as a vehicle towards transformation in the South African Wine Industry. In People, Products, and Professions. Choosing a name, Choosing a Language. E. Lavric, F. Fischer, C. Konzett, J. Kuhn and H. Wochele (eds.). Peter Lang: Frankfurt am Main. Platter’s South African Wines 2012. P. van Zyl (ed.). Andrew McDowell Publishers: Hermanus. Rudman, C. 2012. Elke etiket vertel ‘n storie, party net meer. Die Burger Naweek August. Scholtz, G. 2012. Personal e-mail communication (HPF1855 partner). Van Halderen, M. 2012 Personal e-mail communication (La Vierge: Winemaker). Van Wyk, J. 2011. ‘n Wyn-erfenis aan die verdwyn. Die Burger: Donderdag Aktueel December.

Websites consulted (accessed May-August 2012) http://www.annandale.co.za http://www.bovlei.co.za http://www.bolandcellar.co.za http://www.cipro.co.za/products_services/trademarks.asp http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/the_real_McCoy http://www.fairtradelabel.org.za/product/wine.1.html http://www.fairview.co.za http://www.hpf1855.co.za http://www.jordanwines.com http://www.lavierge.co.za/ow_pinot-noir-2009.htm http://www.opstal.co.za/wines/sixpence-range/ http://www.perdeberg.co.za/about/willem.html http://www.riebeekcellars.com http://swwines.co.za http://thegoosewines.com http://www.uniwines.co.za http://www.weltevrede.com http://www.wine.co.za/directory/wine.aspx?WINEID=17273 http://www.zarevelation.com http://zonnebloem.co.za

ITALIAN COMMERCIAL NAMES: BRAND AND PRODUCT NAMES ON THE GLOBALISED MARKET PAOLA COTTICELLI KURRAS Brand and product names: A question of definition The study of brand names has been recognised as a branch of onomastic studies since at least 2005.1 According to the American Marketing Association, a brand may be defined as “a name, term, design, symbol, or any other feature that identifies one seller’s good or service as distinct from those of other sellers. The legal term for brand is trademark. A brand may identify one item, a family of items, or all items of that seller.”2 The (English) terminology of economy distinguishes between corporate brand, family brand and mono-brand, but the Italian onomastic terminology (and the Italian language in general) does not have equally clear and unambiguous corresponding forms.3 Reference is made, in any case, to brand names and products registered at the Italian Patent Office (Ufficio Italiano di Brevetti e Marchi [UIBM]), which collects all applications lodged at the Chambers of Commerce in Italian cities.4 A brand name is the articulable element of a brand and it plays an important role in defining a brand image (Kapferer 2004). It may be considered a product-related attribute, though it designates an entity 1 On the occasion of the 22nd International Congress of Onomastic Sciences (ICOS) in Pisa, the first independent session dedicated to product names was held (the session named 6. “Other names,” b. “Marchionimi/Brand Names/ Markennamen”). 2 See this definition at: www.marketingpower.com. We will not go into detail as regards the Italian terminology of product names, or marchionimo, maybe from German Markennamen, or commercial product names, and the even more difficult legal distinction between trade names and trademark names, which may sometimes be identical. 3 On this discussion, see Caffarelli (forthcoming 2012). 4 See the official website of the Ministry of Industry and Commerce (now Ministry of Economic Development: http://www.uibm.gov.it/dati).

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that goes far beyond the actual product. In fact, brand names and logos (i.e., the visual sign that identifies the brand) with a strong positioning can become icons in which consumers recognise themselves. A brand not only communicates something about the product, the producer or the seller; in addition, it offers a set of intangible values to which a consumer may connect and relate (Aaker 1997).

Brand and product naming Brand names work like most other proper names in that they have an identifying function. They are also meant to characterise the product thus designated in a positive way, i.e., they must be motivated in order to persuade a potential customer.5 The choice of a name for a product therefore takes place via different linguistic strategies to meet different purposes according to the target groups. The complexity of brand naming implies a multi-disciplinary approach, aiming at the description of the linguistic features of a brand name and its relationship with marketing tools, which may constitute a step forward, thus going beyond the state of the art. The current marketing literature has recognised that the linguistic nature of a brand has become an important topic of debate in relation to the globalising tendencies of international markets. In the contemporary multilingual context, the change of cultural, historical and behavioural characteristics affects a consumer’s perception of external stimuli. In the last twenty years it has been shown that semantics and sound symbolism play an essential role in the creation of meaningful brand names. Current research suggests that these language features affect the way consumers perceive and also respond to various marketing stimuli, for example, advertisements and brand names. Advertising agencies have demonstrated that new brands have to possess some specific features, such as shortness, distinctiveness and memorability, which take shape in the process of “word formation.”

The relationship between linguistics and brand names In general, one can say that the name of a product or a brand is successful if it catches the consumers’ attention. Behind this success there are a number of marketing strategies which, in most cases, are based on 5

On the status of product names as proper names, see Zardo (1997:1ff.), De Stefani (2004), Lötscher (2008: 25ff.) and Fischer (2008: 131ff.).

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the creation process of brand names and therefore have a linguistic nature. The linguistic aspects of product naming for the Italian market have been outlined in corpus-based studies by Cotticelli-Kurras (2007, 2008a, 2008b, 2009), Gabriel (2003), Zilg (2006) and Muselmann (2010). A general linguistic categorisation can be found in Ronneberger-Sibold (2004, 2007), which is better suited to morphological conditions. Other morphological categorisations and descriptions of many morphological phenomena in word formation can be found in Platen (1997) and Gabriel (2003). The name of a product is an investment or even a bet on a firm; the choice of the name of a product may be made from two different perspectives, sometimes complementary, sometimes conflicting. Brand or product names can be understood from the viewpoint of the manufacturer of a product, which does not necessarily coincide with the consumer’s perspective. Likewise, these names can give information on the products or their manufacturer, the manner of use or intrinsic properties of the products. The degree of semantic transparency or descriptive adequacy of a product depends on the type of consumer, which has naturally sociocultural reasons. These differences have resulted in a diverse reception of the message conveyed by the product name.

Focus on corpora and product classes Corpora The selected documentation is based on different corpora,6 publications and online repertories, the most complete of which in Italy is the ministerial register (www.uibm.gov.it/dati). The Italian corpus is based particularly on a choice from the entries in the online register from Ufficio Italiano di Brevetti e Marchi, which is the official website of the Ministry of Industry and Commerce since 1980. From then onwards, all the information on all registered brand names can be found there. 6

In particular, the documentation of the material of the twentieth century goes back to a thesis by Fraccaroli (2008), the rest only in part to international research projects (like the International joint Project “Programma Vigoni 2009-2010” at the Universities of Verona and Eichstätt), which had as their object the contrastive study of Italian and German brand names; see Cotticelli-Kurras (2007, 2008b, 2011, forthcoming 1 and 3), Cotticelli Kurras (2011a, 2012b), Ronneberger-Sibold (2012, forthcoming 1) and Ronneberger-Sibold and Wahl (forthcoming 2, ICOS XXIV).

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Product classes All products and services that are on the global market are categorised into “classes” on the basis of an international agreement, the Nice Agreement, concerning the International Classification of Goods. It was established in 1957 to distinguish between different types of products and services during the registration of a trademark. On January 1, 2012, the tenth edition of the Nice Classification came into effect; therefore all brands registered from that date onwards must comply with this updated classification. The search was restricted to six specific categories of products, which are believed to have pointed out many other changes that have occurred and have a higher incidence in everyday life, such as food, beverages, pharmaceuticals, hygiene products, tobacco, weapons and scientific products. The official Nice Classification of the said products is the following: - Class 3: Detergents, cosmetics, products for hygiene - Class 5: Pharmaceutical and veterinary products - Class 29: Foods such as meat, fish, poultry, game, eggs, oils and fats, jams, pickled fruit and vegetables - Class 30: Coffee, cocoa, sugar, rice, bread - Class 31: Fruit and vegetables, cereals - Class 32: Beverages such as beer, mineral water, juices, lemonade - Class 33: Alcoholic beverages, such as wine and spirits.

The four levels of linguistic analysis Our intention is to show how marketing and linguistic strategies work together in creating linguistically well-done brand names for each product. The linguistic analysis is corpus-based and is carried out on four levels: lexical and semantic, morphological, syntactic and phonetic. The linguistic studies on brand names are intended not only to provide a descriptively ordered apparatus to analyse the strategies of word formation or creation, but also to provide a grid of objective tools to evaluate the success of a product name.

Semantic level Among the different linguistic aspects, the scope of semantics is among the most present in the choice of the name of a product, for which the following parameters are valid: (a) suitability of the product name; (b) degree of transparency; (c) type of connotations and associations aroused

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by name, and finally; (d) motivation tools, which are included in the brand name, providing information which in turn relates to characteristics of the product (A), to the consumer (B) directly, or to external circumstances (C). A key role in achieving the semantics of a trade name is played by the language used to create it, but this is treated separately in the section “Languages used.” Suitability of a product name A name is suited to its product when it guarantees the consumer the identification of the product and its name. This means that the purpose of branding, and therefore the brand name, is to make the consumer feel better or in a more pleasant state if they recognise the relation between name and product. The success of a business name can be a gain or a loss to a company, even if in Italy only large industries make use of specialised agencies, both for the creation of product names and for the related slogans for the advertising launch. Degree of transparency The semantic transparency7 of a product name refers to the degree of characterisation of the product that its name confers. This is considered from the viewpoint of the consumer, which can be different from the point of view of the creator. Normally, a distinction is made between five degrees of transparency, which are defined as follows: - Transparent means that the name is well suited to the reference product. - Half-transparent indicates a certain inconsistency between the brand name chosen and the product. - Low-transparent indicates that the relationship between name and product is not well centred. - Semi-opaque indicates a lack of relevance of the name to the product that it designates. - Opaque indicates the possibility that a brand name appears ambiguous to the user in relation to its meaning or the associations it implies, since the meaning or the scope of thought that it evokes are not compatible with the product it attempts to refer to or with the ranges of membership of the product itself. 7

Transparency is used here both for semantics and morphology, because the Italian brand names are in most cases clearly understandable in their word formation and consequently their semantics. Therefore, we cannot strictly distinguish between morphological transparency and semantic motivation.

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This classification is not only based on the semantic aspect of the name in relation to its product, but also on its morphological formation. In fact, if a trade name is represented by an acronym, its relationship with the product is almost cancelled out, and therefore its degree of transparency is very low, for example LFC (2008, cl. 29, gives no information on the class of product). On the contrary, if a trade name is represented by a long phrase, the characterisation of the product and therefore its degree of transparency will be very high, for example Salumi delle colline torinesi (2008, cl. 29, which means ‘Meats from the hills around Turin’). Connotations and associations In semantics, denotation is understood as the core meaning of a word with respect to a denotatum, while a connotation represents a secondary meaning that meets the actual nuance of the word better. The connotation is subjective and depends on the speaker’s personal experience. The association is again no significant component, but it is brought into relationship with the semantic word in conjunction, such as the word “love” which is assigned the colour “red,” or the feeling of security, or heat etc. In fact, the type of connotation (association) that is associated with a product is very important when choosing the name—associations arouse something in the mind of the consumer, so they should be well thought out. In fact, a good brand name should, among other things, stir up positive emotions. It is clear that associations depend on the type of product—in the domain of food, for example, there are very frequent associations that recall “tradition,” “nature” or “quality.” Thanks to contrastive work with my colleague Ronneberger-Sibold on German and Italian brand names, we were able to develop a set of connotative fields and their associations8 based on the studies of basic needs highlighted by the pyramid of Maslow.9

8

See on this Ronneberger-Sibold and Wahl (forthcoming 2, ICOS XXIV) and Cotticelli-Kurras (2011; forthcoming 3, ICOS XXIV). 9 The following list represents the human needs as depicted by Maslow (1954), which are to be read in Maslow’s pyramid in a down-top direction: (1) Physiological: hunger, thirst, bodily comforts, etc.; (2) Safety/security: out of danger; (3) Belongingness and love: affiliate with others, be accepted; (4) Esteem: to achieve, be competent, gain approval and recognition; (5) Self-actualisation: morality, creativity, spontaneity, problem solving, lack of prejudice, acceptance of facts.

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Table 1. Table of connotation fields and related associations Connotation fields

Connotations or associations

Power

nobility, military, control, speed, attraction of power

Independence

liberty, independence, individuality, spontaneity

Curiosity

the world, exotic, international, progress, magic

Sensory perceptions

cosmos, physical dimensions, sensory perceptions (sight, smell, touch, hearing, taste…)

Order and wealth

wealth, wellness, nature, bio, purity, fresh

Saving

modesty, accuracy

Tradition, religion, honour

antiquity, religion, esotericism, history, good times, crafts, art, home

Progress Social contact High quality

progress, comfort, convenience, nature, ecologic, beauty (not sensual) fun, games, summer, sun, holiday, humour, parties, communication scientific, high quality, technical universality

Aggressiveness

luxury, wealth, enjoyment, beauty, modernity, technology, industry, hi-tech aggression, fight

Romanticism and sensuality

arts, beauty, sexuality, sensuality

Status

Physical activity Tranquillity

sports, fitness, strength, youth, movement, mobility sensitivity, harmony, family, childhood, reliability, comfort

The following examples represent the most frequent associations of Italian brand names: - Tradition, religion, honour. Here one can find different nuances— tradition means for Italy the classic tradition of the Antiquity, the Latin and the Greek worlds, which is why names are often of the GHEA type (in Greek alphabet, 2008, cl. 3): Arkadia (a geographical name as a symbol for nature and pastoral lifestyle; pharmaceutical, 2008, cl. 5), Coelsanus Industria Conserve SpA (‘healthy sky,’ which means that the products are grown under a healthy sky; 2008, cl. 29), Creme cavascura Antiche Terme

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Romane (tradition is here the guarantee for good quality; 2004, cl. 3), Cardium (2004, cl. 3), also with an association to scientific character, Platinum (2004, cl. 3), Minosse (2004, cl. 5), Zeus (2004, cl. 5), as well as many formations with the confix element -san- from Lat. sanus ‘healthy.’ Tradition can be found in the past, in the history of one’s family as well as of the homeland, as the following examples show: Antico Mulino (‘old mill,’ pasta, 2008, cl. 29), Il caffè della nonna (‘grandmother’s coffee,’ 2004, cl. 30) or La vendemmia di nonno Luigi (‘the harvest of grandfather Louis,’ grapes, 2008, cl. 29). Religion is hinted at through geographical names or names of Saints, like in Sant'Angelica Ricette di Bellezza (‘receipts by St Angelica for beauty products,’ 2004, cl. 5) or San Leonardo Olio Dello Sportivo (‘a good oil for the athlete,’ 2004, cl. 29). - Curiosity. The connotation field is well represented through associations with exoticism, wide world, progress, internationality, modern world, mobility, words in foreign languages and hybrid names. As examples, we have West Food (2004, cl. 29), La bistecca del gaucho (‘beef steak of the gaucho,’ 2004, cl. 29). - Sensory perceptions: taste is the most frequent perception—La casa dei sapori (‘the home of the taste,’ 2004, cl. 29), Buona Cucina (‘good kitchen,’ 2004, cl. 29), Verde Luna (‘Green moon,’ 2004, cl. 29), Mare fresco (‘fresh sea,’ 2004, cl. 29), Sapori Ardenti (‘burning tastes,’ 2004, cl. 29), Piccanti Dolcezze (‘spicy sweetness,’ 2004, cl. 29, as the rhetorical figure of oxymoron). - High quality. A high degree of quality is expressed through terms or names semantically less transparent, but technical, usually being names of drugs or active ingredients, like Ava Doppiaazione Oxigen Action (‘Ava double wash action,’ 2004, cl. 3), Colostrum h1 (pharmaceutical, 2008, cl. 3, 5), Platinum (2008, cl. 5), Biotrix (2004, cl. 3), that is, the language used is often a foreign or a classical language. A new kind of quality is described by those names that refer to nature, to genuine products, indicating not only a scientific product, but also good quality of living standards: Naturalmente Tutto Bio (‘naturally all bio,’ 2004, cl. 3), I Sentieri della natura (‘the paths of nature,’ 2004, cl. 3). - Status. Social status may be associated with power, but also with a special social position, as the following names reveal: Lo re (‘the king,’ lo is a local/old variant for the current standard article “il,” 2004, cl. 5),

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Delizie Reali (‘royal delicacies,’ 2004, cl. 29); Frutta Elite (‘exclusive fruit,’ 2008, cl. 29); - Power. Galaxy (pharmaceutical, 2008, cl. 5), Bombardino (‘bomblets,’ 2004, cl. 3), fast-acting beverage, hot and alcoholic; Thermojetics cream (cream, tea, herbal tea, 2004, cl. 3, 30) will also act quickly. Semantic motivation tools The means of motivation constitute a clear component for the success of commercial names and can pilot the attention of the consumer. One may recognise the following means of motivation that are contained in brand names and provide information that refers to characteristics of the product (A), the consumer (B), or may allude to external conditions (C).10 (A) Information about the product relates to: - product features: Puro suino umbro (‘real Umbrian pork,’ 2004, cl. 5), Fredde Bontà (‘cold goodness,’ 2004, cl. 29), GS Superstore (2008, cl. 30); - product quality: Gran cucina (‘Great cuisine,’ 2004, cl. 29), Olivottime novelle (‘best new olives,’ 2004, cl. 29); - nature as creator: La buona campagna (‘the good land,’ 2004, cl. 29), I sapori dell'orto (‘tastes from the kitchen garden,’ 2004, cl. 29), Medeghini, dal mio latte i miei formaggi (‘cheese from our own milk production,’ 2008, cl. 29), Il buon vitello della terra trentina (‘the good veal from Trentino,’ 2008 , cl. 29), Tale & Quale Total Natural (2008, cl. 29); - origin: Burro Friulano (‘butter from Friuli’), Casa Calabria (‘home Calabria’), Madeinmarche (2008, cl. 29); - time of creation: Genoa 1893 (2008, cl. 3). (B) Information related to consumers may be indicative of: - target users: Fresh Baby (2004, cl. 3), Permamma (‘for moms,’ 2004, cl. 5), S. Leonardo Olio Dello Sportivo (‘oil of the athlete,’ 2004, cl. 29); - effects of products on users: GambeSnelle (‘slender legs,’ 2004, cl. 5), Directim (‘directly,’ 2008, cl. 5), Hi Sleep (2008, cl. 3); - usage peculiarities: Pulitutto (pulisci tutto ‘it cleans everything,’ 2004, cl. 3);

10

The examples are quoted from Cotticelli-Kurras (2011).

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- benefits for consumers: Premiagusto (‘which rewards the taste,’ 2004, cl. 29), Zanzavia (= via la zanzara ‘(keep) away the mosquitoes,’ 2008, cl. 3); - uses: Soccorso in campo (‘first aid in the field,’ 2008, cl. 5) - consumers’ opinions: Grigliati Delicati (‘tender grilled’ [meat/ vegetables], 2008, cl. 29); A me piace nerazzurro (‘I like it neroazzurro,’11 2008, cl. 29). (C) Allusions to external conditions are related to: - time of use: Natale della Bontà (‘Christmas goodness,’ 2004, cl. 29); - locality: Il Tempio del benessere (‘the temple of wellness,’ 2004, cl. 3); - circumstances: Tavola della Civiltà (‘table of civilization,’ 2004, cl. 29); - consumers’ opinions: Buona cucina (‘wellness kitchen,’ 2004, cl. 29); Bontà divina (2004, cl. 29); Spa Cucina (2008, cl. 29); - exclusiveness: Delizie Reali (‘royal delicacies,’ 2004, cl. 29), Orto reale (‘royal vegetable garden,’ 2004, cl. 30), Lo re (‘the king,’ regionalism, 2004, cl. 5), Frutta Elite (‘exclusive fruit,’ 2008, cl. 29).

Morphological level The word formation of product names can be regular or extragrammatical (i.e., there may or may not be an existing model) and they can be neologisms or adoptions of existing words. We analyse both regular and irregular neologisms as lexemes or phrases in their typology. As regards brand names, we observe an increased use of irregular neo-formations which provide linguistic material that reflects trends to change in the language. The typology of irregular neo-formations in terms of derivation and composition is particularly complex, as the figure below illustrates:

11 Here is an allusion to the colours of the football team Inter Milan, and at the same time the rhetorical figure of metonymy to identify the place of origin.

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Word formationn without w model Extra grrammatical derivvation formation with suffix(ooid) elemennts

form mation w with prefixx(oid) elem ments

Extra gramm matical composition fo ormation with confix(oid) elements

crossbreeding formation ns, phrases,, compound ds

Figure 1. Illusstration of extraa-grammatical word w formationn12

Extra-gram mmatical deriivation: Form mation with coonfix(oid), prefix(oid) and suffix(oid) y show manny prefix an nd suffix Italian bbrand namess traditionally formations. Pharmaceuticcal products have h a set of ttypical suffixees, which m, -il, -ol etcc. Outside allow for thhe identificatioon of the classs, like -in, -im this categorry, the suffixees most used are -matic, -lux or -lightt, -tronic, because theey are able too form definitte classes of technical or scientific product nam mes in certain product classses. Since thee 1970s, the number n of formations w with confixes has grown, because b some internationaliisms such as -bio-, or --vit- have becoome widespreead and some oof them deriv ve directly from originnal suffixes, like l -phon(o), or prefixess, like bio-, in i Biopet (pharmaceuttical and veterrinarian produ ucts, 2004), U Unibio (biologiical eggs, 2008) or saan- from Latiin sanus ‘heaalthy,’ like Saanisol (pharm maceutical products, 20004). Biosan (22004, cl. 5) con nsists of two cconfixes. mmatical com mposition Extra-gram Extra-graammatical coomposition contains c twoo main categ gories of names: blennding formatioons/compound ds and clausess/phrases. Thee category of blendingg formations is strongly represented in the Itallian new 12

For the terrminology see Ronneberger-S Sibold (2010). In my classificcation and analyses, I ffollow the typoology proposed d by Ronneberrger-Sibold (20 004, 2008, 2010). For the Italian extra-grammaticcal word form mation, we have as a metalinguisticc repertoire the term of Migliorini, “parolee macedonia” (Migliorini ( apud Thorntoon 2004: 567ff.), or generic “b blends” (see Thornton 1993). The latter term also desiignates compouunds, hybrids an nd other word formation mechanisms.

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formations in its complete typology. Sometimes it is difficult to classify forms as real compounds or writing compounds, or even phrases, because such names could also be analysed as prepositional phrases, for example Olivarbar (1970, cl. 29), i.e., olive da (or per) bar with the meaning ‘olives to be consumed as appetitizers in a bar together with an aperitif,’ or Pizzavino (1980, cl. 30), to be undersood as ‘Vino da pizza,’ which means ‘wine to be drunk togheter with a pizza.’ A name like Zanzavia (2008, cl. 3) meaning ‘(the product) makes mosquitoes fly away,’ is at the same time a clipped form (zanza for zanzara) and a pseudo-exocentric compound, semantically clearly understandable but morphologically an unclear form. Cross-formations are clearly analysable, though their typology is sometimes still uncertain: Yogood, from yogurt + good, is a hybrid semicomplete blending; Veraloe (2004, cl. 3) is a telescope blending; Estathè (2004, cl. 30) is a semicomplete blending from esta(te) + thé, with the clipping of estate; Ocadella from oca + mortadella, i.e., mortadella d’oca ‘goose mortadella,’ is a contour blending; and finally Oroil (essential oil), from oro ‘gold’ and oil, is a hybrid telescope blending on o-.13 Extra grammatical composition

blending formations

complete blending

contour blending semicomplete b.

compounds and phrases

fragment b. telescope b.

Figure 2. Illustration of extra-grammatical word derivation14

13

It could be also interpreted as a fragment blending, because the word oro is inscribed in the word oil by sharing the o at the beginning. 14 For the typology, see Ronneberger-Sibold (2008, 2010).

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Onomatopoetic expressions Expressive names that have an onomatopoetic origin are not frequent. Bam Bam Ristosauro (2008, cl. 29) and Bang (2004, cl. 3), for instance, give the acoustic image of the power of the cleaning agents.

Syntactic level For brand names, we have to consider only the micro-syntactic level of phrases or, rarely, of short sentences. In Italian product names (especially for food), we can find throughout brand name tradition descriptive, grammatically correctly formed phrases, such as Le antiche ricette di nonna Primetta (‘the old recipes of Granma Primetta,’ 2008, cl. 29) or Sant’Angelica ricette di bellezza (‘Sant’ Angelica, recipes for beauty,’ 2004, cl. 3). The most frequently used strategy in extra-grammatical constructions in nominal phrases is the change of the basic word order “N + Adj.” into “Adj. + N,” and this order can also be found in some compounds, such as Emiliana Pasticceria (2008, cl. 29) instead of ‘Pasticceria Emiliana’ (Emiliana could also be a personal name), or Bellagamba Benessere (2004, cl. 3), without conjunctions or prepositions, which can be understood as ‘Wellness (for) beautiful legs’ or ‘(the cream) makes legs beautiful and gives wellness.’ It is also possible that the basic word order inversion occurs in English phrases, like the compound Kidactive (2008, cl. 29) instead of ‘active kid,’ Cliven for Men Young (2008, cl. 3) or Honeycold (2004, cl. 5), with the placement of the adjectives “young” and “cold” that is not typical in English.

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Phonetic and graphic level Word belonging to an existing model

Linguistic distancing

Orthographic distancing

Clipping

Sound extension Without regard to the morphological structure

Sound substitution With regard to the morphological structure

Apocope

Acronymy

Figure 3. Illustration of extra-grammatical word derivation

Linguistic distancing This strategy is still used but not often, because of the high number of new hybrid names. Nevertheless, we can find some examples, which have in most case a funny effect, like a pun. Orthographic distancing O-live (2008, cl. 29), which means ‘olives,’ alludes to the English expression “oh live!” Sound extension Soapone (2004, cl. 3) could be a sound extension in the Italian word sapone ‘soap’ with distancing effects and acting as a pun at the same time.

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Sound substitution Zenessere (2004, cl. 3): the name is a variation through sound substitution made from the word benessere (‘wellness’) that alludes to wellness in Zen philosophy. Yogood (2008, cl. 29) instead of ‘yogurt,’ which could also be a blending formation between yogurt and good, but in this case with a change of the basic English word order. Clipping With regard to the morphological structure: acronyms We can find only a few acronyms—like GE.SCO srl (2008, cl. 29), Paf (2008, cl. 29) and LF srl, (2008, cl. 29)—that are acronymic corporate names, resulting in complete opacity with regard to products and classes. Without regard to the morphological structure: apocope Words with clippings are semantically still transparent in meaning and also in their word formation. Clipping is merely a way to make a product name more interesting: Marmobrill (2004, cl. 3) from marmo brilla, a fantasy name, as the product lets the marble shine and could be a Halbvollkreuzung, and Verdetint (2004, cl. 3), tinta verde, which means ‘the colour green,’ with the varied constituent order “Adj. + N” instead of the regular “N + Adj.” Both names are two pseudo-foreign words (Fremdwortlautgestalt) that have the form of foreign composites, because of the consonant ending and due to the underlying structure. Finally Pulitutto (2004, cl. 3) derives from pulisci tutto ‘it cleans everything.’ The apocope is only to be found in pseudo-compounds and seems not to be employed together with other word formations strategies.

Graphic level Univerbation or writing compounds: Madeinmarche, ColCuore (‘from the heart,’ 2008, cl. 29, with a capital letter at the beginning of the Italian word meaning ‘heart’), Malefemale (2008, cl. 3) and Myfarma (2008, cl. 5, with the letter “f” in this pseudo-English phrase). Puns: 3 chic (2008, cl. 29, with the French spelling ‘très chic,’ making the consumer wonder with regard to the product class), Farro + (2008, cl. 29, ‘spelt plus,’ maybe a name for a cereal mix), Caber + sapore – sale (‘Caber, plus taste, minus salt,’ 2008, cl. 30), ATTO PR1°MO, (‘first act,’ 2008, cl. 3, with the inclusion of the numeric/cardinal number for ‘first’ (1°), in the actual Italian word meaning ‘first’) and Fidaty (2004, cl. 3, for fidati, an imperative form that means ‘trust (me)!’).

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Languages used in brand names The languages employed in advertising are also a part of the whole message: the high degree of transparency one always finds in Italian advertising is closely connected to the language used, which is mostly Italian. One can also find many hybrid words, most of them as mixtures between Italian and English, fewer between Latin and English, or finally, Italian and other languages. A very new and interesting tendency is the use of English phrases like Very Italian Food (2008. cl. 29), Madeinmarche (2008, cl. 29, as a writing compound) or Italian Food Passion (2008, cl. 29; in this case the quality is highly praised). The English clause is very simple and understandable for everyone, so that it seems modern and interesting. The name Etruscan Farm (2008, cl. 29) hints at true Italian traditions. Other clauses or names like Chicken Wind (2008, cl. 29) are simply acquisitions from English.

Conclusion Italian brand names are generally transparent on the level of semantics and word formation, as compared to German product names, which tend to be more opaque or even obscure, using irregular word formation strategies, such as opaque hybrid blend names, clipping or shortening. Phrases, hybrid names, compounds and blends as brand names are semantically very clear for the consumer; they give enough information about the designated product and illustrate it in a most complete way. Despite the use of geographical names and personal or family names and finally of company names,15 which are a rich source for brand names in general, we may conclude by saying that advertising in the food industry uses the Italian language for its own sake. Nevertheless, as compared to product names for the international market, Italian ones are the result of a different strategy, the “country of origin effect.”

15

On this problem, see Caffarelli (2007, 2011, 2012) and Riolo (2007).

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Gabriel, K. 2003. Produktonomastik. Studien zur Wortgebildetheit, Typologie und Funktionalität italienischer Produktnamen. Frankfurt am Main/Wien: Peter Lang. Grandinetti, R. 2008. Il rapporto tra produzione e consumo in una prospettiva storica. In Marketing. Mercati, prodotti e relazioni, R. Grandinetti (ed.). Roma: Carocci editore. Kapferer, J.N. 2002 Re-inventare la marca. Potranno le grandi marche sopravvivere al nuovo mercato? Milano: Franco Angeli. —. 2004. The New Strategic Brand Management. London: Kogan Page. Lötscher, A. 2008. Die historischen Voraussetzungen für den Eigennamenstatus von Produktnamen. Onoma 43: 25-56. Maslow, A. H. 1970. Motivation and Personality Uev. ed. New York: Harper & Row. Muselmann, S. 2010. Eine sprachwissenschaftliche Untersuchung unter Berücksichtigung wirtschaftspsychologischer Aspekte. Pro Lingua 45, Wilhelmsfeld: Gottfried Egert Verlag. Petty, R.D. 2008a. Naming name: Trademark strategy and beyond. Part one²Selecting a brand name. Journal of Brand Management 15 (3): 190-197. —. 2008b. Naming name: Trademark strategy and beyond. Part two² Dealing with rival a brand name. Journal of Brand Management 15 (4): 232-238. Platen, C. 1997. Ökonymie. Zur Produktnamen-Linguistik im Europäischen Binnenmarkt. Tübingen: Niemeyer. Riolo, S. 2007. Marchionimi e nomi commerciali nella lessicografia italiana del secondo Novecento. Catania: CUECM. Ronneberger-Sibold, E. 2004. Warennamen. In Namenarten und ihre Erforschung, A. Brendler and S. Brendler (eds.), 557-603. Hamburg: Baar. —. 2006. Lexical blends: functionally tuning the transparency of words. Folia Linguistica 40: 155-181. —. 2007. Sprachlich hybride Markennamen im Deutschen: ein geschichtlicher Überblick. In Names in commerce and industry: past and present, L. Kremer and E. Ronneberger-Sibold (eds.), 187-211. Berlin: Logos-Verlag. —. 2008a. Die morphologische Struktur deutscher Markennamen: diachrone Entwicklungen im Laufe des 20. Jahrhunderts. In I Nomi nel tempo e nello spazio. Atti del XXII Congresso Internazionale di Scienze Onomastiche (ICOS XXII), Pisa, 28 agosto4 settembre 2005, Vol. II, Onomastica e Società, M.G. Arcamone, D. Bremer, D. de Camilli and B. Porcelli (eds.), 777-792. Pisa: Edizioni ETS.

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—. 2010. Word Creation: Definition-Function-Typology. In Variation and change in morphology: selected papers from the 13th International Morphology Meeting, Vienna, February 2008, F. Rainer, W. Dressler, D. Kastovsky and H.Chr. Luschützky (eds.), 201-216. Amsterdam u.a.: Benjamins. Ronneberger-Sibold, E., and S. Wahl. 2012/forthcoming 1 . Kinamic, Bolidon und Maikäferflugbenzin—Wortbildung und -schöpfung in deutschen Markennamen. In Il linguaggio della pubblicità italiano e tedesco: teoria e prassi.—Italienische und deutsche Werbe Sprache: Theorie und Praxis, P. Cotticelli Kurras, E. Ronneberger-Sibold and S. Wahl (eds.). Alessandria: Edizioni dell’Orso —. Forthcoming 2 (ICOS XXIV). Associations in German Brand Names: Current Trends. In Proceedings of Names in daily life, INTERNATIONAL CONGRESS OF ONOMASTIC SCIENCES (ICOS) XXIV, Barcelona 5-9 September 2011. Thornton, A.M., 1993. Italian blends. In Natural Morphology. Perspectives for the Nineties, L. Tonelli and W. U. Dressler (eds.), 143155. Padova: Unipress. —. 2004a. Riduzione. In: La formazione delle parole in italiano, M. Grossmann and F. Rainer (eds.), 555-566. Tübingen: Niemeyer. —. 2004b. Formazione delle parole nell’onomastica. In La formazione delle parole in italiano, M. Grossmann and F. Rainer (eds.), 599-610. Tübingen: Niemeyer. Ugolini, M. (ed.). 2011. Branding Verona. Un viaggio tra protagonisti e strumenti delle politiche di marca delle imprese veronesi. Verona: Camera di Commercio-Università degli Studi di Verona, Dipartimento di Economia aziendale. Zardo, F. 1997. Marchi nominativi, nomi propri o nomi comuni? I nomi di marchio nell’italiano scritto contemporaneo. Rivista Italiana di Onomastica 3 (1): 25-43. Zilg, A. 2006. Markennamen im italienischen Lebensmittelmarkt. Wilhelmsfeld: Gottfried Egert Verlag.

DISH NAMES CONSTRUCTED ON NON-STANDARD LEXEMES AND OBSCURE PROPER NOUNS: SEMANTIC OPACITY AS A SELLING POINT TO SATISFY INGENUOUS TOURISTS’ APPETITE JÉRÉMIE DELORME

This contribution focuses its attention on a particular aspect of the variety of French used in dish names on restaurant menus of a tourist resort, the commune of Le Grand-Bornand.1 Indeed, a considerable part of these names is constructed (a) sometimes on lexemes that do not belong to the varieties of French spoken by most French speaking tourists staying in Le Grand-Bornand (originating mainly from Northern France and, secondarily, from Belgium) and that they do not readily understand, (b) sometimes on proper nouns referring to persons and places, the existence of which these tourists ignore. After we have submitted these lexemes and proper nouns to a concise lexicological analysis, we will demonstrate that these opaque designations are, notably, motivated by mercantile interests. Dishes offered by Le Grand-Bornand’s restaurants obey usually a meal structure consisting either in three courses—a first course (most often a cold dish based on seasoned vegetables), a main course (a hot dish based on meat or fish) and a dessert (either a sweet dish or cheese served as a dessert course)—, or in two courses: a so-called “unique” course (usually a rich dish based on melted cheese2 and/or potatoes, served with deli meats and a salad) and a dessert (a sweet dish).

1

Located in the French Alps and Haute-Savoie department, in the vicinity of Geneva and Chamonix, and famous for the picturesque landscape of its green valleys, its partially well-conserved cultural heritage, hiking trails, ski slopes, but not for all its restaurants. 2 Most of the recipes based on melted cheese date back to the end of the twentieth century and to the 2000s, when they were created and boosted, in an oversupply

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We collected the data in June, July and August 2012, in Le GrandBornand, using a camera, photographing the menus posted at the entrances of the restaurants and, when necessary, tasting certain dishes (in a healthy range) and interviewing crew members. The following were excluded from the data on which the present study is based: names of dishes offered by snack bars, public houses, high-altitude restaurants, mountain huts, caterers and grocer’s shops; names of daily dishes and of special children’s dishes. There remained thirty restaurants and 1,319 dish names, referring to 248, 245, 417 and 409 dishes served respectively as a first course, a main course, a unique course and for dessert. Among these names, 167 are constructed either on non-standard lexemes—among which may be identified well-attested regionalisms, unrecorded regionalisms, pseudo foreignisms of Francoprovençal origin3 and individual neologisms—or on obscure proper nouns.

Well-attested regionalisms These non-standard lexemes belong to local varieties of French spoken in Southeastern France (also marginally in Switzerland) and, more specifically, in the Haute-Savoie department. They are attested in dictionaries of regionalisms such as DRF and DSR, and some of them may be etymologically analysed as lexicalised borrowings of Francoprovençal origin. The global ratio lemma/occurrences is 8/53 (= 0.15); it denotes a very high productivity of dish name formations based on this category of lexemes. (1) atriaux [at‫ݓ‬i‫ޖ‬jo] noun, masculine, plurale tantum, used in the French

spoken in the Haute-Savoie and Savoie departments, “a pork offal meatball, minced, wrapped up in a pork peritoneum, and pan-fried” (first attested use: 1820, see atriau in DSR). Used in the name of a dish served as a main course (15 €): Les atriaux du patron “the boss’ atriaux: atriaux prepared according to the chef’s recipe” (FLorm.). (2) caïon [ka‫ޖ‬joࡿ ] noun, masculine, used in the French spoken in the HauteSavoie and Savoie departments, “the flesh of a pig used as food” (first attested use: 1388; see cayon ~ caïon in DRF). Used in names of dishes crisis context, by farmers’ and cheeses-makers’ unions, in order to dispose of unwanted cheese stocks. 3 Francoprovençal, a Romance language on the brink of extinction, was, in the case of Le Grand-Bornand, supplanted by French. Native Francoprovençal speakers (who are all bilingual Francoprovençal/French) now represent only about 10% of Le Grand-Bornand people.

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served as a main course (four occurrences, 17 €4). Example: fricasee de caion et sa Polenta au Gorgonzola et aux Girolles “fricassee of caïon and its polenta5 with gorgonzola and chanterelles: pork pieces stewed in wine sauce with spices, with polenta cooked with Gorgonzola and chanterelles” (ACr.). (3) crozets [k‫ޖܧݓ‬z‫ ]ܭ‬noun, masculine, plurale tantum, used in the French spoken chiefly in the Haute-Savoie, Savoie, Isère, Drôme and HautesAlpes departments, “a type of small pasta in the form of a square, to be cooked au gratin or in a soup” (first attested use: ca 1470; see crozets in DRF). Used in names of dishes served as a main course (two occurrences, 26 €). Example: Risotto de Crozet, Ecrevisses du Lac Léman, Jus de Carcasse “crozets risotto, crayfishes from Lake Geneva, juice from the carcasses: crozets cooked in a risotto style, with crayfishes from Lake Geneva and a reduction made from the carcasses” (Hys.). (4) diot [‫ޖ‬djo] noun, masculine, used in the French spoken in the HauteSavoie and Savoie departments, “a small country style pork sausage to be cooked” (first attested use: 1975; see diot in DRF). Used in names of dishes served as a first course (one occurrence, 10 €), a main course (ten occurrences, 15 €) or a unique course (two occurrences, 14 €). Example: diots braisés à la branche de sapin “diots braised with a fir branch: diots braised in a type of sauce in which a fir branch has been decocted, garnished with vegetables or polenta with Gorgonzola and chanterelles, or batter-fried potatoes” (ACr., as a main course). (5) farcement [fa‫ݓ‬s‫ޖ‬m‫ ]ࡿܤ‬noun, masculine, used in the French spoken in the Haute-Savoie department and in Switzerland, “a grated potato cake based on eggs, cream, dried prunes, dried raisins, bacon, then cooked in the oven or in a bain-marie” (first attested use: nineteenth century in Swiss French; see farçon in DRF). Used in names of dishes served as a main course (one occurrence, 15 €) or a unique course (two occurrences, 18 €). Example: Le Farcement façon Bon Vieux Temps “the farcement Bon Vieux Temps-style: a farcement garnished with pork cheeks stewed in red wine sauce” (ABVT., as a unique course). (6) tartiflette [ta‫ݓ‬ti‫ޖ‬fl‫ܭ‬t] noun, feminine, used in the French spoken chiefly in the Haute-Savoie and Savoie departments, “a dish consisting of diced or sliced sautéed potatoes with lardoons, minced onions and cream, browned in the oven, and over which a reblochon6 was melted” 4

In case of multiple occurrences, an average price is provided. The polenta Le Grand-Bornand-style is a thick mush made of milk and corn grits. 6 A type of soft washed-rind and smear-ripened cheese traditionally made from raw cow’s milk and produced mainly in the Haute-Savoie department. 5

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(first attested use: 1993; see tartiflette in DRF). Used in names of dishes served as a unique course (twenty-eight occurrences, 15 €). Example: Tartiflette au Jambon cru fumé de Savoie “tartiflette with Savoyard smoked raw ham: a tartiflette with Savoyard smoked raw ham, cooked on an open fire, garnished with green salad” (Cas.). (7) rucheti [‫ݓ‬y‫ޖݕ‬ti] noun, masculine, used in the French spoken in the Haute-Savoie department, “a potato preparation in which potato pieces are pan-fried in oil or butter after being shredded and julienned” (first attested use: 1970 [Swiss Fr. röstis, plurale tantum]; see rösti(s) ~ roesti(s) in DSR). Used in the name of a dish served as a unique course (15 €): Le Rucheti “le rucheti: a rucheti garnished with smoked sausage-meat and comté,7 served with green salad” (Chât.). (8) tavaillon [tava‫ޖ‬jõ] noun, masculine, used in the French spoken in the Haute-Savoie and Savoie departments, and in Free County, “a wooden shingle to be nailed to a roof or a facade” (first attested use: 1397; see tavaillon in TLF). Used in the name of a dish served as a dessert course (9 €): Tavaillon garni de Fromages du Terroir Français “tavaillon garnished with cheeses of French origin: a platter with a range of French cheeses” (CS.).

Unrecorded regionalisms These non-standard lexemes belong to local varieties of the French spoken in Southeastern France and, more specifically, in the Haute-Savoie department, and, in certain cases, only in Le Grand-Bornand. They are absent from dictionaries of regionalisms such as DRF and DSR, and many of them can be etymologically analysed as recent formations based on French lexemes. The global ratio lemma/occurrences is 19/70 (= 0.27); it denotes a fairly high productivity of dish name formations based on this category of lexemes. (9) à la bornandine [alab‫ݓܧ‬nã‫ޖ‬din] adverbial locution, used in the

technolect of restaurateurs in Le Grand-Bornand, “in Le GrandBornand-style, i.e., relating to dishes that include reblochon and usually smoked deli meats, such as ham and lardoons.” Used in the abridged form bornandine in the name of a dish served as a main course (14 €): Poulet bornandine “chicken in Le Grand-Bornand-style:

7 A type of hard pressed cheese traditionally made from raw cow’s milk, in flat circular discs, and produced in Free County.

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a seasoned chicken leg, rolled in a slice of smoked ham, with reblochon sauce and garnished with forest mushrooms” (Cas.). (10) ambrune [ã‫ޖ‬b‫ݓ‬yn] noun, feminine, used in the French spoken especially in the Haute-Savoie department and the Canton of Geneva, “a bilberry shrub” (first attested use: 1902; see ambrune in DS). Used in the name of a dish served for dessert (7 €): Coupe Embrune “bilberry shrub sundae: a sundae consisting of bilberry sorbet, sweet bilberry liqueur, bilberries in syrup, and Chantilly cream”8 (Crém.). (11) berthoud [b‫ޖݓܭ‬tu] noun, masculine, used in the French spoken chiefly in the Haute-Savoie department, “a dish consisting in grated or sliced abondance put into a ramekin rubbed with garlic, sprinkled with dry white wine from Savoy, seasoned with pepper and nutmeg, then baked under a grill” (first attested use: 1997; see GoogleBooks). Used in names of dishes served as a unique course (seven occurrences, 18 €). Example: notre berthoud a nous “our own berthoud; a sort of berthoud cooked with Madeira, onions and garlic, garnished with potatoes and dry sausages” (Col.). (12) bornandin [b‫ݓܧ‬nã‫ޖ‬d‫( ]ࡿܭ‬masculine), bornandine [b‫ݓܧ‬nã‫ޖ‬din] (feminine) adjective, used in the French spoken chiefly in the HauteSavoie department, “of, relating to, or characteristic of Le GrandBornand and its people” (first attested use: 1993; see GoogleBooks); especially, in the technolect of restaurateurs in Le Grand-Bornand, “in Le Grand-Bornand-style, i.e., relating to dishes that include reblochon and usually smoked deli meats, such as ham and lardoons.” Used in names of dishes served as a first course (five occurrences, 10 €), a main course (two occurrences, 18 €) or a unique course (six occurrences, 13 €). Example: Croûte bornandine “toast, Le Grand-Bornand style: country bread toast garnished with smoked ham, covered with melted reblochon, grilled, sprinkled with white wine, and served with green salad” (Boh., as a unique course). (13) bornandine [b‫ݓܧ‬nã‫ޖ‬din] noun, feminine, used in the technolect of restaurateurs in Le Grand-Bornand, “any dish in Le Grand-Bornandstyle, i.e., including reblochon and usually smoked deli meats, such as ham and lardoons” (nominalisation of the feminine form of bornandin, adjective). Used in names of dishes served as a unique course (five occurrences, 11 €). Example: Bornandine “a black wheat pancake garnished with reblochon, lardoons, potatoes and cream” (RqF.). (14) brézain [b‫ݓ‬e‫ޖ‬z‫ ]ࡿܭ‬noun, masculine, used in the French spoken chiefly in the Haute-Savoie department, “a semi-firm, cow’s milk cheese, produced in the village of La Balme-de-Thuy, shaped as a wheel, 8

A type of whipped cream sweetened and flavoured with vanilla sugar.

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smoked with beech and juniper wood, with a brown-orange rind, mainly to be melted” (first attested use: 1999; see GoogleBooks). Used in names of dishes served as a main course (one occurrence, 18 €) or a unique course (one occurrence, 21 €). Example: Tartare de bœuf au Brézain “beef tartare with brézain; a beef tartare, specially seasoned, garnished with shaved brézain” (Crém., as a main course). (15) crozichèvre [k‫ܧݓ‬zi‫ܭݕޖ‬v‫ ]ݓ‬noun, feminine, used in the French spoken chiefly in the Savoie, Isère and Haute-Savoie departments, uncommon (mostly restaurateurs’ jargon), “a type of tartiflette in which potatoes and reblochon were respectively replaced by crozets and goat cheese” (blend formed from croziflette and chèvre ‘goat’; first attested use: 2010; see GoogleBooks). Used in the name of a dish served as a unique course (19 €): Crozichèvre fermière “farm crozichèvre: a crozichèvre with green salad and deli meats” (ACr.). (16) croziflette [k‫ܧݓ‬zi‫ޖ‬fl‫ܭ‬t] noun, feminine, used in the French spoken chiefly in Southeastern France, “a type of tartiflette in which potatoes were replaced by crozets” (blend formed from crozets and tartiflette; first attested use: 2005; see GoogleBooks). Used in the name of a dish served as a unique course (18 €): Croziflette fermière “farm croziflette: a croziflette garnished with green salad and deli meats” (ACr.). (17) génèp [‫ݤ‬e‫ޖ‬n‫ܭ‬p] noun, masculine, used, in colloquial contexts, in the French spoken chiefly in the Haute-Savoie and Savoie departments, “a liquor made from an aromatic plant represented by two artemisia species, Artemisia genipi and Artemisia umbelliformis” (formed by posterior truncation, with an epenthesis, of Fr. genépi [‫ݤ‬ne‫ޖ‬pi] noun, masculine, “id.; these two species”). Used in the name of a dish served for dessert (7 €): Genep “a sundae consisting of two ice cream scoops flavoured and sprinkled with genépi” (Entr.). (18) racliflette [‫ݓ‬akli‫ޖ‬fl‫ܭ‬t] noun, feminine, used, in the French spoken in Southeastern France, uncommon (mostly restaurateurs’ jargon), “a type of tartiflette in which reblochon was replaced by raclette” (blend formed from raclette and tartiflette; first attested use: 2008; see GoogleBooks). Used in the name of a dish served as a unique course (16 €): Racliflette “a racliflette with green salad and deli meats” (ACr.). (19) reblochade [‫(ݓ‬ԥ)bl‫ݕޖܧ‬ad] noun, feminine, sporadically used in the French spoken in Southeastern France, uncommon, “a dish consisting of half a reblochon melted over hot embers and served with potatoes boiled in their skins and deli meats” (first attested use: 2006; see GoogleBooks). Used in the name of a dish served as a unique course (18 €): Reblochade “a reblochade garnished with green salad” (RqF.).

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(20) rebloche [‫(ݓ‬ԥ)‫ޖ‬bl‫ ]ݕܧ‬noun, masculine, used in the French spoken

chiefly in the Haute-Savoie department, colloquial, “reblochon” (formed on reblochon [‫(ݓ‬ԥ)bl‫ݕޖܧ‬õ] noun, masculine, by truncation of the final vowel). Used in names of dishes served as a unique course (two occurrences, 11 €). Example: Croûte rebloch “reblochon toast: country bread toast, garnished with homemade smoked ham, covered with melted reblochon and served with green salad” (CVen.). (21) rebloche [‫(ݓ‬ԥ)‫ޖ‬bl‫ ]ݕܧ‬noun, feminine, sporadically used in the French spoken in Southeastern France, a synonym for reblochade. Used in names of dishes served as a unique course (eight occurrences, 17 €). Example: La Rebloche “the rebloche: a reblochade garnished with green salad” (APV.). (22) reblochonade [‫(ݓ‬ԥ)bl‫ޖܧݕܧ‬nad] noun, feminine, used in the French spoken in Southeastern France, a synonym for reblochade (first attested use: 1999 [reblochonnade]; see GoogleBooks). Used in names of dishes served as a unique course (seven occurrences, 20 €). Example: Reblochonade “a reblochade seasoned with caraway and served with diots, dry sausages and pickles” (Crém.). (23) reblochonette [‫(ݓ‬ԥ)bl‫ޖܧݕܧ‬n‫ܭ‬t] noun, feminine, used in the French spoken in the Haute-Savoie department, uncommon, “a type of berthoud in which abondance was replaced by reblochon” (first attested use: 1959 [in the sense of “half a reblochon”]; see GoogleBooks; the actual sense of “a type of berthoud etc.” is absent in the written sources). Used in names of dishes served as a unique course (two occurrences, 17 €). Example: Reblochonette “a reblochonette served with green salad with walnuts” (Alp.). (24) tartichèvre [ta‫ݓ‬ti‫ܭݕޖ‬v‫ ]ݓ‬noun, feminine, sporadically used in the French spoken chiefly in the Haute-Savoie and Savoie departments, “a type of tartiflette in which reblochon was replaced by goat cheese” (blend formed from tartiflette and chèvre “goat”; first attested use: 2007; see GoogleBooks). Used in names of dishes served as a unique course (eleven occurrences, 15 €). Example: La Tartichèvre “la tartichèvre: a tartichèvre served with green salad” (ABVT.). (25) tartiraclette [ta‫ݓ‬ti‫ݓ‬a‫ޖ‬kl‫ܭ‬t] noun, feminine, sporadically used in the French spoken chiefly in the Haute-Savoie and Savoie departments, uncommon (mostly restaurateurs’ jargon), a synonym for racliflette (blend formed from tartiflette and raclette; first attested use: 2009 [tarti-raclette]; see GoogleBooks). Used in the name of a dish served as a unique course (14 €): Tartiraclette “a racliflette served with green salad” (Jal.).

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(26) tiflette [ti‫ޖ‬fl‫ܭ‬t] noun, feminine, sporadically used, in colloquial

contexts, in the French spoken chiefly in the Haute-Savoie and Savoie departments, a synonym for tartiflette (first attested use: 2011; see GoogleBooks). Used in the name of a dish served as a unique course (12 €): Tiflette “a pizza garnished with the ingredients of a tartiflette” (Cas.). (27) tomme blanche [t‫ܧ‬m‫ޖ‬bl‫ ]ݕࡿܤ‬noun, feminine, “a reblochon to be eaten on the very day on which it has been made, without salting nor ripening” (a polyword built on Fr. tomme noun, feminine, “a cheese in the form of a cylinder, made in Southeastern France,” and Fr. blanche feminine form of blanc adjective, “white”; first attested use: 1993; see GoogleBooks). Used in names of dishes served as a first course (one occurrence, 9 €) or a unique course (three occurrences, 16 €). Example: Assiette de tomme blanche de la traite du soir “platter of tomme blanche from the evening’s milking: platter of tomme blanche made with milk obtained from the evening’s milking of the same day, garnished with potatoes boiled in their skins, homemade deli meats and green salad” (CVen., as a unique course).

Pseudo foreignisms of Francoprovençal origin Of course, neither “piece,” nor “cheese ripening board,” “garden,” “goat,” “panful,” “snail” or “toast” are concepts specific to Francoprovençal culture. Each of them is, at the very least, shared with French general culture. The use in French texts of Francoprovençal lexemes to express these concepts is unnecessary, since there is no lexical gap in French for them (indeed, this is the reason why we characterise these foreignisms as pseudo ones). This use only reveals a sophisticated stratagem implemented to give, with a little cunning, an extremely local flair to extremely widespread concepts. The global ratio lemma/occurrences is 7/8 (= 0.88); it denotes a low productivity of dish name formations based on this category of lexemes. (28) bocon [b‫ޖܧ‬kõ] noun, masculine, occasionally borrowed in colloquial

contexts by native French-speaking persons living in the Francoprovençal language area to Frpr. [b‫ޖܧ‬koࡿ ] (see DS bocon), semantic equivalent of Fr. morceau ‘piece’ (first attested use as a foreignism: 1889; see GoogleBooks). Used in the name of a dish served as a first course (14 €): Le Bocon de Chivrà et son Méli-Mélo “the piece of goat cheese and its salad mix: a piece of goat cheese, breaded, on a bed of salad mix” (ABVT.).

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(29) chivrà [‫ݕ‬i‫ޖ‬v‫ݓ‬a] noun, feminine, borrowed by the chef of the restaurant

called Au Bon Vieux Temps to Frpr. [‫ޖ‬șiv‫( ]ܣݐ‬see DS çhîvră), semantic equivalent of Fr. chèvre ‘goat.’ Used in the name of a dish served as a first course (14 €): Le Bocon de Chivrà et son Méli-Mélo “the piece of goat cheese and its salad mix: a piece of goat cheese, breaded, on a bed of salad mix” (ABVT.). (30) corti [k‫ޖݓܧ‬ti] noun, masculine, borrowed by the chef of the restaurant called Auberge du Croix to Frpr. [k‫ޖݒܧ‬ti] (see DS corti), semantic equivalent of Fr. jardin ‘garden.’ Used in the name of a dish served as a first course (4 €): Délice du «Corti» “garden’s delight: green salad” (ACr.). (31) couclyé [ku‫ޖ‬kje] noun, masculine, borrowed by the chef of the restaurant called Au Bon Vieux Temps to Frpr. [ku‫ޖ‬k‫ݠ‬œ] (see DS couclyë), semantic equivalent of Fr. escargot ‘snail.’ Used in the name of a dish served as a first course (14 €): Les Couclyés au Génépi “the snails with genépi: an oven dish consisting of twelve snails cooked in green pepper sauce, flavoured with genépi” (ABVT.). (32) creutà [k‫ݓ‬ø‫ޖ‬ta] noun, feminine, borrowed by the chef of the restaurant called Au Bon Vieux Temps to Frpr. [‫ޖ‬k‫ݐ‬øt‫( ]ܣ‬see DS creută), semantic equivalent of Fr. croûte ‘crust; toast.’ Used in the name of a dish served as a first course (15 €): La Creutà de chez nous “the toast of our home: a country bread toast, garnished with raw ham and topped off with reblochon cream sauce” (ABVT.). (33) péla [pe‫ޖ‬la] noun, feminine, occasionally borrowed by native Frenchspeaking persons living in the Francoprovençal language area to Frpr. [pe‫ޖ‬læ] (see DS pélâ), semantic equivalent of Fr. poêlée ‘panful’ and, by metonymy, tartiflette à la poêle “a dish consisting of diced or sliced sautéed potatoes with lardoons, minced onions and cream, cooked in a pan, and over which a reblochon was melted.” Used in names of dishes served as a unique course (two occurrences, 17 €). Example: L’authentique Péla des Aravis9 et sa Croquante “the genuine Aravis péla and its crunchy salad: tartiflette cooked in a pan, garnished with green salad” (ABVT.). (34) tavé [ta‫ޖ‬ve] noun, masculine, occasionally borrowed by native French-speaking persons living in the Francoprovençal language area to Frpr. [ta‫ޖ‬ve] (see DS tavé), semantic equivalent of Fr. planche à fromages ‘cheese ripening board.’ Used in the name of a dish served as a first course (14 €): Le Tavé des Montagnards “the Montagnards’ tavé: a range of deli meats and cheeses served on a wooden board” (ABVT.). 9

Les Aravis is the name of a mountain range.

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Individual neologisms These non-standard lexemes belong to a few individual varieties of French spoken in Le Grand-Bornand. They are absent in the sources, excepting the menus where they have been gathered. They appear, from that vantage point, to be considered as hapax legomena and most of them may be etymologically analysed as very recent formations based on French lexemes or proper names. The global ratio lemma/occurrences is 6/6 (= 1,00); it denotes an extremely limited productivity of dish name formations based on this category of lexemes. (35) bouillottine [buj‫ޖܧ‬tin] adjective, feminine, idiolectal, proper to La

Bouillotte’s chef, “relating to the restaurant La Bouillotte.” Used in the name of a dish served for dessert (7 €): Coupe Bouillottine “La Bouillotte’s sundae: a sundae consisting of vanilla ice cream, chestnut puree and Chantilly cream” (Bouill.). (36) brebiscroz [brœbi‫ޖ‬kr‫ܧ‬z] noun, feminine, idiolectal, proper to Auberge du Croix’s chef, “a type of tartiflette in which reblochon and potatoes were respectively replaced by ewe cheese and crozets” (blend formed from brebis ‘ewe’ and crozets). Used in the name of a dish served as a unique course (20 €): Brebiscroz fermière “farm brebiscroz: a brebiscroz served with green salad and deli meats” (ACr.). (37) brebisflette [brœbi‫ޖ‬fl‫ܭ‬t] noun, feminine, idiolectal, proper to Auberge du Croix’s chef, “a type of tartiflette in which reblochon was replaced by ewe cheese” (blend formed from brebis ‘ewe’ and tartiflette). Used in the name of a dish served as a unique course (19 €): Brebisflette fermière “farm bebisflette: a brebisflette served with green salad and deli meats” (ACr.). (38) croisade [k‫ݓ‬wa‫ޖ‬zad] noun, feminine, idiolectal, proper to Auberge du Croix’s chef, “a dish consisting of cheese melted over hot embers and served with mushrooms, potatoes, green salad and deli meats” (derived from the name of the restaurant). Used in the name of a dish served as a unique course (25 €): Croisade “a croisade” (ACr.). (39) tartichevrotine [ta‫ݓ‬ti‫ݕ‬œv‫ޖܧݓ‬tin] noun, feminine, idiolectal, proper to Auberge du Croix’s chef, “a type of tartiflette in which reblochon was replaced by chevrotin” (blend formed from tartiflette and chevrotin, see fn. 6 above). Used in the name of a dish served as a unique course (20 €): Tartichevrotine fermière “farm tartichevrotine: a tartichevrotine served with green salad and deli meats” (ACr.). (40) triplette [t‫ݓ‬i‫ޖ‬pl‫ܭ‬t] noun, feminine, idiolectal, proper to Le Jalouvre’s chef, “a type of tartiflette in which reblochon is mixed with raclette

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and goat cheese” (blend formed from the adjective triple ‘triple,’ because of the number of cheese varieties used in this recipe, and tartiflette). Used in the name of a dish served as a unique course (15 €): Triplette “a triplette served with green salad” (Jal.).

Obscure anthroponyms These anthroponyms, mainly used in the variety of French spoken in Le Grand-Bornand, refer to persons whose fame does not greatly extend beyond the Le Grand-Bornand community limits. The global ratio lemma/occurrences is 5/6 (= 0.83); it denotes a low productivity of dish name formations based on obscure anthroponyms. (41) Albert [al‫ޖ‬b‫ ]ݓܭ‬first name of Albert Bonamy, an inhabitant of Le

Grand-Bornand, the owner and chef of the restaurant called La Ferme de Lormay and the owner of a small family farm, where, inter alia, salmons, bees and chickens are raised to be mainly used in the restaurant’s kitchen. Used in names of dishes served as a first course (one occurrence, 13 €) or a main course (one occurrence, 20 €). Example: Magret de canard laqué au miel de la Ferme d’Albert “duck filet lacquered with honey from Albert’s farm” (CTr., as a main course). (42) Baur [‫ޖ‬b‫ ]ݓܧ‬family name of the owner of the restaurant called À la Ferme du Pépé. Used, in a lexical crossing (with bornandine, noun, “any dish in Le Grand-Bornand-style, i.e., including reblochon and usually smoked deli meats, such as ham and lardoons”), in the name of a dish served as a unique course (13 €): La Baurnandine “a pizza garnished with onions, cream, potatoes, reblochon and lardoons” (AFPép.). (43) Fernande [f‫ޖݓܭ‬n‫ܤ‬Ѻd] first name of one of the two grandmothers of Auberge du Croix’s chef. Used in the name of a dish served as a first course (4 €): Assiette de beignets de pommes de terre d’la Mémé Fernande “plate of Grandma Fernande’s potato fritters: potato fritters prepared according to a recipe inherited from Fernande” (ACr.). (44) Ludo [ly‫ޖ‬do] hypocoristic formed through posterior truncation of the first name of Ludovic Legon, an inhabitant of Le Grand-Bornand and a cheese maker. Used in the name of a dish served as a dessert course (8 €): Les faisselles de Ludo Creme fraiche et myrtilles “Ludo’s small low-fat cream cheeses [with] fresh cream and bilberries: small low-fat cream cheeses made by Ludovic Legon, mixed with fresh cream and garnished with bilberries” (FLorm.).

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(45) Maxence Baud [maks‫ࡿܤ‬s‫ޖ‬bo] full name of a pork butcher, the owner

of a pork meat factory located in the village of Villaz, near Le GrandBornand. Used in the name of a dish served as a first course (10 €): jambon fume de maxence baud “Maxence Baud’s smoked ham” (Col.).

Obscure toponyms These toponyms, mainly used in varieties of French spoken in Le Grand-Bornand and around, refer to places whose fame does not extend beyond Le Grand-Bornand and its vicinity. The global ratio lemma/occurrences is 9/24 (= 0.38); it denotes a moderate productivity of dish name formations based on obscure toponyms. (46) Cuillery [kܷij‫ݓޖ‬i] the name of a hamlet nearby which the restaurant

Le Chalet Venay is located. Used in the name of a dish served for dessert (6 €): Coupe «cuillery» “Cuillery’s sundae: a sundae consisting of raspberry sorbet, bilberry sorbet, genépi ice cream and forest fruit” (CVen.). (47) la Colombière [lak‫ܧ‬lõ‫ޖ‬bj‫ ]ݓܭ‬the name of a mountain pass, at the foot of which the restaurant Le Chalet Venay is located. Used in the name of a dish served as a unique course (14 €): Feuilleté de La Colombière et salade verte “La Colombière’s pastry and green salad: a reblochon pie with mushroom sauce, served with green salad” (CVen.). (48) l’Aiguille Verte [leܷܳij‫ޖ‬v‫ݓܭ‬t] the name of a peak that dominates the valley where the restaurant called La Bouillotte is located. Used in the name of a dish served for dessert (7 €): Coupe de l’Aiguille Verte “L’Aiguille Verte’s sundae: a sundae consisting of vanilla ice cream, pistachio ice cream, Chantilly cream, dry meringues, hot chocolate sauce and pistachios” (Bouill.). (49) la Pointe Percée [lapw‫ܭ‬tѺ p‫ޖݓܭ‬se] the name of a peak that dominates the valley where the restaurant Auberge Nordique is located. Used in the name of a dish served as a first course (9 €): Salade Pointe Percée “Pointe Percée’s salad: green salad garnished with tomatoes, smoked ham, reblochon, garlic croutons, walnuts and an egg” (ANord.). (50) le Lachat [l‫ޝ‬a‫ݕޖ‬a] the name of a mountain that dominates the valley where the restaurant La Crémaillèrere is located. Used in the name of a dish served for dessert (7 €): Coupe Lachat “Lachat’s sundae: a sundae consisting of vanilla ice cream, chestnut puree, chestnut liquor, Chantilly cream and pine nuts” (Crém.). (51) le Maroly [lma‫ޖܧݓ‬li] the name of a hamlet situated in Le GrandBornand. Used in the name of a dish served as a first course (8 €):

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Salade du Maroly “Le Maroly’s salad: a red cabbage salad garnished with lardoons, croutons and comté” (AFPép.). (52) les Aravis [leza‫ݓ‬a‫ޖ‬vi(s)] the name of a mountain range that dominates Le Grand-Bornand. Used in names of dishes served as a first course (four occurrences, 10 €), a unique course (eight occurrences, 14 €) or for dessert (four occurrences, 6 €). Example: Aravis “a wheat pancake garnished with chestnut puree and Chantilly cream” (Amb., for dessert). (53) Lessy [le‫ޖ‬si] the name of a hamlet situated at the border of the valley where the restaurant called La Bouillotte is located. Used in the name of a dish served for dessert (7 €): Coupe de Lessy “Lessy’s sundae: a sundae consisting of vanilla ice cream, bilberries, Chantilly cream and a berry coulis” (Bouill.). (54) Montremont [mõt‫ݓ‬œ‫ޖ‬mõ] the name of a hamlet situated near Thônes, in which a fish farm is located. Used in the name of a dish served as a main course (13 €): truite de montremont aux amandes “trout from Montremont with almonds: a trout raised in the fish farm of Montremont, cooked with almonds” (Col.).

Conclusion As previously noted, to construct dish names on non-standard lexemes answers a lexical need (at least as regards regionalisms and individual neologisms): to fill in gaps in the common French lexicon. However, we wonder why the authors of these thirty menus sometimes use interlinear paraphrases, shyly given in small type and working as semantic glosses10 rather than using these paraphrases to form transparent designations. Do they have some good reasons to semantically obscure what immediately captures customers’ attention and to leave semantic transparency to words that customers can read under the express condition that they wear a good pair of glasses? That, of course, is where the rubber hits the road. Statistics speak for themselves: the average price of the 167 dishes, whose names are constructed on non-standard lexemes or on proper nouns, is about 14.50 €, whereas the average price of the other 1,152 dishes is 11 €. Even though we only consider dishes served as a unique course, which represent a large 10 Example (RqF.): Tartiflette Pommes de terre, oignon, lardons, Reblochon fermier, salade verte. Tartichèvre Pommes de terre, oignon, Lardons, Fromage de chèvre, salade verte.

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majority (64.7%) of dishes, whose names are constructed on non-standard lexemes or on proper nouns, a rather significant gap remains between the average price of these, 16 €, and the one of the others, 14 €. Moreover, the only two restaurants in Le Grand-Bornand (CS. and Hys.) to be referred to in rigorous culinary guides (Le GaultMillau and Le Guide Michelin)11 are the only two that attract customers, who mostly consist of local connoisseurs and marginally, of a few enlightened tourists. Furthermore, these are the restaurants whose menus contain the lowest proportion of dish names constructed on non-standard lexemes or on proper nouns (CS. 4%, Hys. 5%, against 13% for the 28 other restaurants), although local connoisseurs are much more able to understand local regionalisms, foreignisms of Francoprovençal origin and proper nouns referring to local persons or places. This proves that the restaurateurs’ aim (apart from the CS.’s and Hys.’s chefs) is not to please customers made up of linguistically competent gourmets, but to seduce, by means of seemingly fanciful or striking designations, customers made up of undemanding tourists. Lastly, may we give some good advice to tourists who do not want to be treated as cash cows any more? Beware of opaque dish names.

References Buchi, É. 2005. Les emprunts dans le Dictionnaire des régionalismes de France. In La lexicographie différentielle du français et le Dictionnaire des régionalismes de France, actes du colloque en l’honneur de Pierre Rézeau pour son soixante-cinquième anniversaire (Strasbourg, Université Marc-Bloch, 20-22 juin 2003), Gleßgen and Thibault (eds.), 81-98. Strasbourg: Presses Universitaires de Strasbourg. DRF = Rézeau, P. (ed.). 2001. Dictionnaire des régionalismes de France. Géographie et histoire d’un patrimoine linguistique. Bruxelles: De Boeck/Duculot. DS = Constantin, A., and J. Désormaux. 1902. Dictionnaire savoyard. Paris/Anncy: Bouillon/Abry. DSR = Knecht, P., and A. Thibault. 1997. Dictionnaire suisse romand. Particularités lexicales du français contemporain. Une contribution au Trésor des vocabulaires francophones. Carouge: Éditions Zoé. 11

See http://www.gaultmillau.fr/recherche-restaurant/cp/74450/limit/30/start/0/ and http://restaurant.michelin.fr/restaurants?coords=6.42725:45.94212&country=F RA&address=74450%20Le%20Grand-Bornand&marker=3 (accessed September 2, 2012).

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Enckell, P. 2007. Régionalismes de Savoie au début du XIXe siècle. In Richesses du français et géographie linguistique, Rézeau (ed.), vol. 1, 11-23. Bruxelles: De Boeck. Gleßgen, M. D., and A. Thibault. 2005. La «régionalité linguistique» dans la Romania et en français. In La lexicographie différentielle du français et le Dictionnaire des régionalismes de France, actes du colloque en l’honneur de Pierre Rézeau pour son soixante-cinquième anniversaire (Strasbourg, Université Marc-Bloch, 20-22 juin 2003), Gleßgen and Thibault (eds), III-XVII. Strasbourg: Presses Universitaires de Strasbourg. Roullet, S., and J.-P. Lai. 2012. Interférences entre substrat et superstrat en domaine francoprovençal (le cas du Val d’Aoste). In Études de linguistique gallo-romane, Barra-Jover, Brunt-Trigaud, Dalbera, Sauzet and Scheer (eds.), 55-66. Saint-Denis: Presses Universitaires de Vincennes. TLF = Imbs, P., and B. Quemada. 1971-1994. Trésor de la langue française. Dictionnaire de la langue du XIXe et du XXe siècle (17891960). Paris: Éditions du CNRS/Gallimard.

Menu sources A translating paraphrase for each restaurant name (with, where necessary, a short etymological explanation) and the name of the hamlet or quartier where the restaurants are located, are given in brackets. Nota bene: all the dish names quoted in this study conform to the spelling used in the menus. ABVT. = Au Bon Vieux Temps (‘in good old times,’ Villavit). ACr. = Auberge du Croix (‘Le Croix inn,’ after the name of the hamlet where this restaurant is located, Le Croix). AFPép. = À la Ferme du Pépé (‘at Grandad’s farm,’ L’Envers de Villeneuve). Alp. = L’Alpage (‘the Alpine pastureland,’ Samance). Amb. = Les Amborzales (‘the bilberries,’ Samance). ANord. = Auberge Nordique (‘Nordic inn,’ Lormay). APV. = Auberge du Pré Vieux (‘The Pré Vieux’ inn,’ after the name of an ancient meadow near which this restaurant is located, Villavit). Arp. = L’Arpège (‘the arpeggio,’ Villeneuve). Boh. = La Bohème (‘Bohemia,’ Villeneuve). Bouill. = La Bouillotte (‘the hot water bottle,’ Samance). BCSMaur. = Brasserie La Croix Saint-Maurice (‘St. Morris’ cross’ brasserie,’ Villeneuve).

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Cas. = Casanova (‘Casanova,’ Villeneuve). Chât. = Le Châtillon (‘Le Châtillon,’ after the name of a pastureland near which this restaurant is located, La Côte). Clar. = Les Clarines (‘the cowbells,’ Le Villard). Col. = La Colombière (‘La Colombière,’ after the name of the mountain pass where this restaurant is located, La Colombière). Crém. = La Crémaillère (‘the hearth trammel,’ Samance). CSMaur. = La Croix Saint-Maurice (‘St. Morris’ cross,’ Villeneuve). CS. = Confins des Sens (‘farthest reaches of the senses,’ with a pun between Fr. confins noun, masculine, plurale tantum, literally ‘border area,’ figuratively ‘farthest reaches,’ and Fr. Les Confins, toponym, the name of a picturesque hamlet situated near Le Grand-Bornand, Villavit). CTr. = Le Chalet des Troncs (‘Les Troncs chalet,’ after the name of the hamlet where this restaurant is located, Les Troncs). CVen. = Le Chalet Venay (‘Venay chalet,’ after the name of the hamlet where this restaurant is located, Venay). Entr. = L’Entracte (‘the intermission,’ Samance). FLorm. = La Ferme de Lormay (‘Lormay farm,’ after the name of the hamlet where this restaurant is located, Lormay). Glaï. = Les Glaïeuls (‘the gladioluses,’ Suize). Hys. = L’Hysope (‘the hyssop,’ Suize). Jal. = Le Jalouvre (‘Le Jalouvre,’ after the name of a peak that dominates the valley where this restaurant is located, Samance). PPerc. = La Pointe-Percée (‘La Pointe-Percée,’ after the name of the highest peak of Le Grand-Bornand, which dominates the valley where this restaurant is located, Villeneuve). RqF. = Le Reblochon qui fond (‘the melting reblochon,’ Villeneuve). TChal. = La Table du Chalet (‘the chalet’s table,’ Villeneuve). TDGuid. = La Taverne des Deux Guides (‘the two mountain guides’ tavern,’ Villeneuve). Thôv. = Le Thôvet (‘Le Thôvet,’after the name of the place where this restaurant is located, Villeneuve).

NAMES OF CHINESE HAWKER STALLS AND FOODS IN SINGAPORE LEE CHER LENG Introduction Singapore is an island-nation located at the southern tip of the Malay Peninsula in Southeast Asia. The size of the island is approximately 710km2 with just over five million people. As a small nation, it has the second-highest GDP per capita in Asia (IMF 2011). It is a multilingual, multi-racial country, made up of ethnic Chinese (74.1%), Malays (13.4%), Indians (9.2%) and “others” (3.3%) that include Eurasians. The multiracial, multi-cultural characteristic of the nation is reflected in the different types of food one can find in Singapore. This chapter focuses on unique eating places called “hawker centres” in Singapore (Kong 2007). A hawker centre or cooked food centre is the name given to an open-air complex housing many stalls that sell a variety of inexpensive food. They are typically found near public housing estates or transport hubs such as bus interchanges or train stations. Little research has been done on the names of food or food stalls in hawker centres and how these names reflect identity. Perhaps one related work is Khouw (2010), based on the Toronto food and restaurant scene, where she explores how local groups negotiate their ethnic and racial subjectivities through food practices. Hawker centres were built in urban areas following rapid urbanisation in the 1950s and 1960s. Many of these centres were built to address the problem of unhygienic food prepared by unlicensed street hawkers. Due to growing affluence in the urban population of Singapore, these hawker centres are increasingly being replaced by food courts, which are indoor, air-conditioned versions of hawker centres located in shopping malls and other commercial venues. There are approximately forty hawker centres in Singapore mostly located in wet markets where fresh fish, chicken, pork, vegetables and fruits are sold. Some of these hawker centres sell multi-racial food such as Chinese, Malay and Indian; others may concentrate on a particular racial

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food such as Malay or only Chinese. This chapter focuses on a few hawker centres that mainly sell Chinese food.

An immigrant society Singapore was founded in 1819 by Sir Stamford Raffles of the British East India Company. The island had one thousand inhabitants, among which were some thirty Chinese (Turnbull 1996: 4). Singapore was located on the sea route from China to India and on to Europe and had a strategic importance being in the vicinity of the Dutch colonies in Indonesia. In addition, it was close to the settlements of Penang and Malacca which are important ports on the west coast of the Malay Peninsula. After securing British rule over the island from the ruling Sultan, Raffles made it a tariff-free port, attracting a large number of immigrants. By 1821, the population stood at five thousand (including three thousand Chinese) and the first census in 1824 reported eleven thousand. By 1860, the population had increased to eighty-one thousand, with two thirds Chinese (Turnbull 1996: 13-14, 36). The motivation for migration to Singapore was largely economic—the largest group was represented by Chinese mainly from southern Chinese provinces (Fujian and Guangdong), where famine and political unrest made them venture south for a better life. Some Chinese came from Malacca or Penang on the west coast of the Malay Peninsula. These “Straits-born Chinese” or “Straits Chinese” were typically of mixed Chinese and Malay ancestry and were called “Peranakans.” Besides these, there were Indians (from southern India) and Malays (from the Malay Archipelago as well as Indonesia and Borneo). The Chinese from China were organised along “dialect” lines (e.g., Hokkiens, Teochews, Cantonese and so on), “surname” lines and “village” lines. The Hokkien-speaking community had their support network, schools and associations, while the Teochew-speaking community had theirs. The different dialectical communities would, from time to time, get into conflict with one another. The government wanted to put a stop to such social unrest and to foster a Singapore Chinese identity rather than a “dialect” identity. As such, the Speak Mandarin Campaign was launched in 1979. The campaign banned all “dialect” TV programmes, encouraging the entire Chinese population to speak Mandarin at home, in schools and all public spaces. Since this campaign was introduced, spoken dialects have been drastically reduced and are quickly disappearing. However, although these various dialects are used much less now than before, the food cultures pertaining to them are still present in hawker centres.

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Names of Chinese hawker stalls To have a good representation of Chinese hawker stalls, this chapter has collected Chinese stall names from several high-density residential centres such as Ang Mo Kio and Toa Payoh, as well as some old hawker centres such as Maxwell Food Centre, Tiong Bahru Food Centre and Chinatown Complex. The Chinese names of these stalls are sometimes in traditional script (used in Taiwan and Hong Kong) and, at other times, in simplified script (used in mainland China). The traditional script represents an earlier era, while the simplified script is used when Singapore adopts China’s simplified version. Some hawker stalls prefer to use the old traditional script as they have more strokes and the characters look fuller and richer. Many stalls from more traditional hawker centres tend to keep traditional scripts.

Special food from dialect groups The most obvious way of naming a hawker stall is the specialty food of each dialect group. The pictures below show Guang Zhou Kitchen and Canton Cuisine that serve fried food and illustrate the Cantonese dialect group.

Figure 1

Figure 2

The Hokkien dialect group is illustrated by the famous Fried Hokkien Mee (noodle) seen in the photo below.

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Names of Chinese Hawker Stalls and Foods in Singapore

Figure 3

The Teochew dialect group is illustrated by Teochew Mushroom Minced Meat Noodle and Teochew Rice and Porridge.

Figure 4

Figure 5

The Hainan dialect group is illustrated by the famous Hainanese Chicken Rice and Hainanese Curry Rice.

Figure 6

Figure 7

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The Fuzhou or Hock Chew dialect group is illustrated by the famous Fu Zhou fish ball and Oyster cake.

Figure 8

Figure 9

Original locations Most of these traditional stalls have been in business for many years. Before relocating to hawker centres, they sold in different places. To help customers recognise them, many would use the location of the original stall as their names. By doing this, customers are able to find the stalls they used to patronise, while the names also establish the heritage of these traditional food stalls. The following pictures show stalls using original locations as their names. The photo below shows a stall in Maxwell Food Centre selling Chinese fritters. The name of the stall is China Street Fritters, to help customers identify that this was the famous stall in China Street.

Figure 10

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Names of Chinese Hawker Stalls and Foods in Singapore

The photo below is also from Maxwell Food Centre. The stall name refers to Teochew (Tew Chew) Porridge from Teochew (Tew Chew) Street.

Figure 11

The stall name below is Lau Ba Sa Crab Mixed Noodles. “Lau Ba Sa” literally means ‘Old (Chinese lao) market’ (colloquial Malay Ba Sa). The stall name shows that this stall was relocated from a famous “Old Market.”

Figure 12

The Fuzhou Fish Ball stall below also states that it is from China Street, so that people recognise that it is the same stall they patronised before in China Street.

Figure 13

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The stall below shows that the dumplings it sells originate from a place known as Joo Chiat in the east side of Singapore. This is a famous chain with many stalls throughout the island.

Figure 14

The stall below is located in Chinatown Complex. It uses the place name of Niu Che Shui (literally ‘ox-cart-water’), which is the name of Chinatown, because the common vehicles at that time were carts drawn by oxen.

Figure 15

Other examples are Tanglin Curry Puff and Lim Kee (Orchard) Banana Fritters, all showing where they originate from, because they were famous stalls in those places.

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Names of Chinese Hawker Stalls and Foods in Singapore

Figure 16

Figure 17

Auspicious Chinese characters ⯆ / ℜġxing ‘prosperous,’ ‘lucky’ There are common Chinese characters used by stalls, such as the character ⯆ (xing) in traditional script, or ℜ in simplified script. The meaning of this character is ‘prosperous’ or ‘lucky.’ The stall below sells various desserts. The name of the stall is Guan Heng or ※ (yuan) ⯆ (xing) in traditional script. The meaning of the first character is ‘source,’ the second is ‘prosperous.’ The English name is pronounced in either the Hokkien or Teochew dialect. The name of the stalls means ‘originated from prosperity or luck.’ Obviously, this name is chosen in the hope that business will be prosperous and the seller will be lucky.

Figure 18

There is a stall that sells Hokkien Prawn Noodles at the Toa Payoh housing board hawker centre. The name of the stall is Yong (Ọ ‘forever’)

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Heng (⯆ ‘prosperous’ or ‘lucky’), which means ‘forever prosperous’ or ‘forever lucky.’ The stall below sells Hainanese chicken rice at the Maxwell Food Centre. The stall name is Heng (⯆) Heng (⯆), which means ‘double prosperity’ or ‘twice as lucky.’

Figure 19

The same name is also used by another stall selling fried oysters, oyster omelette and white carrot cake.

Figure 20

ⓐ / ⍹ fa ‘prosperous,’ ‘expand’ The next common character is ⓐ fa (traditional script), ⍹ (simplified script). This character means ‘prosperous’ or ‘expand.’ It is pronounced as fatt in the Cantonese dialect, and huat in Hokkien and Teochew dialects. The stall below sells different kinds of noodles. The name of the stall is ᫂ (ming ‘bright’) ⓐ (fa ‘prosperous’ or ‘expand’). The name of this stall means ‘bright and prosperous.’

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Names of Chinese Hawker Stalls and Foods in Singapore

Figure 21

The stall below sells claypot rice. Its name is Yuan Fa (※ yuan— ‘source,’ ⍹ fa—‘prosperous’ or ‘expand,’ in simplified script). The meaning of the name is ‘a source that prospers and expands.’

Figure 22

The drink stall below has the numerical name 89. In the Cantonese dialect, the number “8” is especially auspicious because its pronunciation resembles that of the character ⓐ (fa ‘prosperous’ or ‘expand’), while that of the number “9,” of ஂ (jiu) means ‘a long time.’ The Chinese characters of this stall, ⓐ (fa ‘prosperous’ or ‘expand’), ஂ (jiu ‘long’), are derived from the stall number 89, which means ‘forever prosperous.’

Figure 23

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ᡂ cheng ‘successful’ Another very common character is ᡂ cheng ‘successful.’ The drink stall at Maxwell Food Centre uses this character in the name ᫂ (ming ‘bright’) ᡂ (cheng ‘successful’), meaning ‘bright and successful.’ The English translation is in the Hokkien or Teochew pronunciation of Beng Seng.

Figure 24

The stall below sells breakfast noodles, rice noodles and rice cakes. The name of the stall is Ọ (yong ‘forever’) ᡂ (cheng ‘successful’), meaning ‘forever successful.’ The English name Weng Seng reflects the Cantonese pronunciation.

Figure 25

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Names of Chinese Hawker Stalls and Foods in Singapore

㡰 shun ‘smooth sailing’ Another commonly used Chinese character is 㡰 shun ‘smooth sailing.’ Stall owners choose this character in the hope that they will have smooth sales. The cooked food stall below has the name 㡰 shun ฼ li, and this phrase taken together means ‘smooth sailing,’ ‘successful.’ The English script translation is Soon Lee, reflecting the pronunciation of Hokkien or Teochew dialect.

Figure 26

The drink stall below uses the name 㡰 shun ‘smooth sailing’ ⯆ xing ‘prosperous or lucky,’ and the two characters together mean ‘smooth sailing and prosperous/lucky.’ The English script translation is Soon Heng, reflecting the pronunciation of the Hokkien or Teochew dialects.

Figure 27

The stall below is an example of how various characteristics are combined in the stall name. It is a stall located at Mei Ling Food Centre selling Hokkien Prawn noodles. The stall uses the name 㝞ᯇ⯆ (Chen

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Song Xing). The first character is clearly a surname; the last character is the aforementioned character, ⯆ xing ‘prosperous/lucky.’ The stall added more information (i.e., it was originally from Newton which is a famous hawker centre that turned into a tourist trap). The Chinese character added, ⣣㡻 (‘Newton’) (⪁Ꮠ⹰) (‘Established stall’), is meant to inform customers that this is an established stall from Newton Hawker Centre.

Figure 28

English names The English names of these Chinese stalls have a different spelling. Earlier, older stalls used the pronunciation of the dialect group. Since the Speak Mandarin Campaign in Singapore was launched in 1979, more hawker stalls started to use the Mandarin hanyu pinyin spelling. Some hawker stalls nowadays even choose to translate the names into English words. This reflects the change of language policies in the nation. Early southern Chinese immigrants mainly spoke their respective dialects. Ever since Mandarin was promoted as the language for all Chinese, the younger generation speaks Mandarin and very little dialect. Since English is still the main working language in Singapore, translating the stall names into English words rather than using the English pronunciation of the Chinese names is becoming a new trend.

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Names of Chinese Hawker Stalls and Foods in Singapore

Dialect spelling The stall below uses the auspicious Chinese character ⯆⯆ xing ‘prosperous’ in traditional script as the Chinese name. The English name is translated into the Teochew dialect as Heng Heng (‘Porridge and Rice’). This is typical of a traditional Chinese hawker stall name—with traditional Chinese characters and Chinese dialect English spelling.

Figure 29

The stall below also uses the traditional Chinese script with Cantonese dialect spelling. The English name only shows what it is selling—hum jim pang, a savoury Cantonese pancake. The Cantonese spelling helps one identify the product. If this is spelt in hanyu pinyin, then many would not know what it is, since it is habitually called hum jim pang among the Chinese community in Singapore.

Figure 30

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The stall below sells the famous Hakka tofu dish called yong tao fu. This dish is usually not spelt in hanyu pinyin, as it is also traditionally referred to (cf. Hakka pronunciation) as Yong Tao Fu.

Figure 31

Hanyu pinyin spelling Most of the traditional dishes are translated into English using the dialect spelling. Hanyu pinyin names are usually the names of the stalls and not the food they sell. The following stall shows the English name in hanyu pinyin spelling: Ri Xin Snack Delights. This shows the influence of the 1979 Speak Mandarin Campaign.

Figure 32

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Names of Chinese Hawker Stalls and Foods in Singapore

This next stall that sells pancakes also uses hanyu pinyin Xin Xuan for its English name.

Figure 33

English words Instead of using the English spelling of Chinese characters, the stall below uses the words Joy Feast that reflects the meaning of the original name in Chinese. This is obviously not a traditional stall, as it also uses simplified Chinese characters.

Figure 34

In air-conditioned food courts, more stalls use English names rather than translated names from Chinese. They also use more simplified

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Chinese scripts. In the stall name below, the Chinese is in simplified script and the English is in hanyu pinyin Ya Fu (instead of Ah Hock in Teochew or Hokkien dialect). There is also a clever use of Mini Wok in English with the mirror Chinese translation ㏞఼播 (mi ni guo ‘mini pot’).

Figure 35

Hybrid food names The multi-cultural, multi-racial society in Singapore is a melting pot where contact among races is also mirrored by the hybrid nature of its food (Chua and Rajah 2001). One example in this respect is Rojak, which is a dish of raw vegetables and fruits mixed together with thick sauce and sprinkled with ground nuts. This dish originated in Java and was brought to Malaya by Javanese settlers in the late nineteenth century. The dish is mainly sold by Chinese in hawker centres.

Figure 36

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Names of Chinese Hawker Stalls and Foods in Singapore

Another dish (which is not a Chinese dish, but is sold by many Chinese) is Satay. It consists of grilled pieces of meat on a stick. The grilled meat is dipped into a type of gravy of ground peanut, sugar and chilli. Satay is adopted by the Teochew dialect community and turned into a hybrid dish, Teochew Satay Bee Hoon. This dish uses the satay gravy and pours it over vermicelli noodles. The stall below also has an interesting name, Bak Kee. The first character, pronounced ba, is what Peranakan men are called—baba. Perankan women are called Nonya.

Figure 37

Hainanese curry rice is also an interesting dish, as curry does not belong to Chinese cuisine (it pertains to the Indian and Malay). The Hainan dialect community makes good curry chicken and is famous for its Hainanese curry rice.

Figure 38

One form of localisation is in the pervasive use of chilli in Chinese food. When eating Hokkien prawn noodle, one would sprinkle light powder of fried chilli on the soup. When eating the dry Hokkien prawn

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noodle, one would expect it to come with a small dish of prawn-based chilli paste known as belacan. The dry version of Teochew minced meat noodle is tossed with chilli and vinegar sauce. The soup version is accompanied by a chopped fresh red chilli pepper in light soya sauce. Cantonese wanton noodles are accompanied by chopped fresh green chilli in light soya sauce. Perhaps names of drinks in a drink stall will show how “mixed” the food culture is in Singapore. The photo below shows an actual menu of a drink stall.

Figure 39

The menu needs some explanation of what the items listed mean: - THE—Hokkien or Teochew; tea with condensed milk - COFFEE/KOPI—English, coffee with condensed milk - THE-O (‘black’ in Hokkien and Teochew)—tea without milk

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- COFFEE–O (‘black’ in Hokkien and Teochew)—black coffee - COFFEE HALIA (‘ginger’ in Malay)—ginger coffee - TEH HALIA (Hokkien or Teochew + Malay)—ginger tea - TEH-C (Teh—Hokkien or Teochew, C for ‘carnation milk’)—tea with carnation milk - KOPI-C (Kopicoffee, C for ‘carnation milk’)—coffee with carnation milk. There are also colloquial English names of drinks listed below: - Kopi (Chinese/Malay ‘coffee’) kao (H. ‘thick’) - Kopi kosong (Malay ‘empty’)—thick black coffee, no sugar - Kopi sua (Fu Ching dialect ‘continue’)—two cups of regular coffee - Kopi-o (Hokkien, Teochew ‘black’) po (Hokkien, Teochew ‘light’)— light black coffee - Teh (‘tea’) –o (‘black’) kosong (Malay ‘empty’) po (Hokkien, Teochew ‘light’)—light black tea, no sugar. The drinks below may not be found on the menu, but they are known as follows (see Lai 2010): - Diao yu (Mandarin ‘fishing’)—Chinese tea (the tea bag hanging in the cup resembles fishing hence the name) - Yuan yang (Mandarin ‘celestial harmony’) or Cham (from Malay campur ‘mix’)—Coffee and tea mix - Milo dinosaur (thick Milo topped with Milo powder) - Thak kiew (Hokkien ‘football’)—Milo (the picture of soccer on the Milo tin) - Ah Huay (Hokkien ‘flower’)—chrysanthemum tea (has flower on the box) - Michael Jackson—soy bean milk + grass jelly drink (soya bean drink is white, grass jelly is black, and Michael Jackson had a song named Black or White) - Ang ji kow (Hokkien ‘red-tongued dog’)—stout beer (has a red-tongue dog on the can) - Pepsi siew tai (Hainanese ‘less sugar’)—Pepsi Light - Coke kosong (Malay ‘empty’)—Coke Zero.

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References Chua, B.H., and A. Rajah. 2001. Hybridity, Ethnicity and Food in Singapore. In Changing Chinese Foodways in Asia, Y.H.D. Wu and C.B. Tan (eds.), 161-198. Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press. Kong, L. 2007. Singapore Hawker Centres: People, Places, Food. Singapore: National Environment Agency. Khouw, V.C.Y. 2010. Strategies off the Menu: Gastrospaces and Negotiating Expectations of Chinese Food. Phd diss., York Univeristy. Lai, A.E. 2010. The Kopitiam in Singapore: An Evolving Story about Migration and Cultural Diversity. Asia Research Institute Working Paper Series 132. Turnbull, C.M. 1996. A History of Singapore: 1819-1988, 3rd edition. Singapore: Oxford University Press.

ANTONOMASIA, LEXICAL USAGE AND PERMANENCE OF BRAND NAMES MARCIENNE MARTIN Introduction In general, the creation of brand names involves not only the application of marketing criteria, but also a number of linguistic criteria whose choice is determined by onomastics. For example, detergent names reflect the notion of environmental friendliness and sustainability. In particular, “voracious enzymes” have given way to chemical compounds more respectful of nature, and thus brand names like Green House or Ecover have been coined. This phenomenon refers to a paradigmatic field of nature by referring to the color green or to the root “eco,” which stands for “ecology.” This chapter analyses a particular phenomenon of branding—antonomasia. Indeed, brand names, such as BIC (ball-point pen), Frigidaire (refrigerator), Vespa (motorcycle) and Thermos (vacuum flask that preserves the temperature of its contents), were first linked to the discovery of a new product, to its name and its introduction as a brand name etc. These artifacts have been defined through lexical items (e.g., “frigidaire” for “fridge”), which is why a number of brand names appear as official entries in dictionaries. Several questions may arise. First, is it not that antonomasia makes it possible to fill a whole or partial lexical vacuum? Is the reputation of a brand name, and its linguistic use by a large number of speakers, also at the origin of its lexical integration? Nevertheless, new technology, like the “daguerreotype,” and the usage of its lexical item have become obsolete due to the limited number of uses/users. Thus, is antonomasia correlated with the sub-operating or non-commercial exploitation of products? Lastly, is it justified to say that antonomasia will be, in the long term, a source of lexical perpetuation and loss in the originality of brand names?

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What is a brand name? A brand name is a cultural object that “applies to a professional practice, referring to the distinctive sign affixed to an object by its manufacturer (1690)” (Dictionnaire historique de la langue française 2000: 2146). The first inscriptions on objects manufactured by man date back to 2700 BC and are found in Chinese pottery. The Emperor’s name, or that of the manufacturer or the place of manufacture, is mentioned on these artefacts. In 1634, the guild of “vinegar and mustard manufacturers of the town of Dijon” laid down the foundation that was to establish them as brand names (Watin-Augouard 2005). Galisson and André (1998: 10) specify that “The brand name of (an object of) trade, or services such as that conferred through a patent deposit or a deposit of design and model, is a title of industrial property that grants a monopoly on the operation of the named entity.” These titles are protected by the French institute I.N.P.I (Institut National de la Propriété Industrielle). The depositor is requested to propose a material sign that will represent the brand name. Some logotypes of this kind are known all over the world (Table 1). Table 1. A few examples of well-known logos

In addition, from a grammatical point of view, brand names belong to the category of proper nouns. These have a specific status on the semantic and syntactic levels. Indeed, they do not indicate gender or number agreement; however, just like common nouns, they accept deictic expressions, such as demonstrative adjectives, e.g., “This Casanova of Pierre.” Gary-Prieur (1994: 20) mentions that a proper noun “refers to the same object in all the possible worlds.” It means that this monosemic term refers to an object and only a specific one that is the called “object.” Thus, the brand name Caddie, which indicates a supermarket trolley, is protected by capitalising the first letter, which represents a symbol of differentiation. Watin-Augouard (2005: 73) emphasises: In order to prevent that its brand name does not fall into common language and does not become a generic brand name, the company Ateliers Réunis Caddie supervises that any writing of its Caddie brand name, which refers to supermarket trolleys, should not be spelt without the capital letter “C.”

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If a brand name refers to the manufacturer, it can also have many different meanings. Lewi (2003: 8) contends that “The brand name juxtaposes various levels of reality under the same noun,” as we can see in Table 2 below. Table 2. Brand names and their worlds Paradigms Advertising figures Domestic animals Savage animals

Product Brand names Graphic category representations Men’s magazine Playboy Rabbit Cheese Sweets

Men and women

Dictionary

Children Trades

Soap Advertising spaces Chocolate powder

Creations Well-known men

Perfume

Fictitious figures

Lollipop

Anthropomorphic products

Tyre

La vache qui rit Cow La pie qui Magpie chante Petit Larousse A woman blowing seeds of a dandelion Cadum Baby Jean Mineur Miner Banania

Senegalese infantry

Yves Saint Laurent Pierrot Gourmand Michelin

Creator of the brand name Figure of Pierrot Figure made of tyres

Creators or designers of various products get their inspiration from different worlds, corresponding to the societal values of their time. In 1909 the poster artist Albert Guillaume portrayed a policeman gazing at his reflection in his boot to promote a shoe polish called “vegetable shoe polish.” This practice refers to the shine for boots in the context of maintenance of military gear (Lelieux 1999: 214). Other brand names reflect the social practices of a particular time. Thus, between the end of the eighteenth and the beginning of the nineteenth century, Europe experienced a wave of fundamental innovations, such as the creation of the objects presented in Table 3 below—“chauffebains” (‘bath-heater’), the predecessor of the storage water-heater, or the

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“machine domestique à glace,” the household appliance for making ice cream. Table 3. New products and new lexical entries (L’illustration 1913)

As these two examples demonstrate, the first lexical entry “chauffebains” (‘bath-heater’) can always be found in French dictionaries (TLFi, http://atilf.atilf.fr) but the object was not generally used, as this innovation was replaced by the “chauffe-eau” (‘water-heater’) and then by the cumulus. Nevertheless, the French term “machine domestique à glace” (‘household appliance for making ice cream’) does not appear in the lexicon; consisting of three terms which can be found in the French dictionary, this phrase reflects a specific technological innovation of a specific time. This means that a term will only be lexicalised if the object (innovative artefact, new social practice etc.) that the term refers to is perpetuated.

Identification of brand names with respect to their lexical use: Some examples of antonomasia Antonomasia is a stylistic device, “[…] which consists of the replacement of a proper noun by a common noun in order to get a more specific or more suggestive expression, for example: the Saviour for Jesus-Christ or a Tartuffe for a hypocrite” (cf. TLFi, http://atilf.atilf.fr). Thus, some patronymics are known only for their quality as common nouns. Examples include the French term poubelle (‘dustbin’), a container intended to receive household refuse, which the prefect of the French department Seine, Eugène René Poubelle, introduced officially in a law that was adopted in 1883. This translation from a proper noun (Poubelle) to a common noun (poubelle) results from a semantic transformation. Cherpillod (1988: 359) mentions that “The patronymic Poubelle could

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originate in a Burgundian or Champagne anthroponymic meaning ‘not beautiful’.” In this particular case several phenomena interfere to fill a lexical vacuum, as we can see from the aforementioned rule: “The owner of each building will have to place at tenants’ disposal one or more shared containers for household refuse.” The procedure implied is outlined in Table 4. Table 4. Origin of the French term poubelle (‘dustbin’) Lexis Container (generic term)

Social practice Origin or creator Collection of household The prefect Eugène René trash (French term Poubelle poubelle)

Generally, the process of antonomasia displays the following structure (Table 5): Table 5. New social practice and lexicalisation New social practice or/and, for example, the integration of innovative technology Generic term exists or Neologisms are - Name of the creator does not exist. The introduced to fill the - Nouns used with updating of terms lexical vacuum. products from different becomes obsolete. worlds We define “neologism” as a process of lexical creation. Nevertheless, lexical corpora are also constructed by the updating of terms which have become obsolete, for example, babillard. As defined by the Office de la Langue Française in Quebec, babillard currently means a virtual space of exchanges of messages on the Internet. Before this definition was introduced, the term had various senses. Thus, the dictionary Le Robert (Quebec version) gives the following definition for this term: “someone who likes to chatter, by analogy with the chattering bird.” In 1725, in the form of a feminine noun, babillarde meant a ‘letter.’ This last definition was probably at the origin of the term babillard, a noun given to a notice board put in a public place onto which messages are pinned. In contrast, this meaning, which is related to a social practice specific to Quebec, does not appear in dictionaries in France (Dictionnaire québécois d’aujourd’hui 1992). Moreover, this term, with another meaning and presented in its adjectival form is, according to Clapin (1974), “[used] in schools, colleges,

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and convents to refer to a pupil talking a lot of nonsense about others, in front of teachers.” Gods and heroes enabled the creation of antonomasia corpora, such as Hercules who in French gives the set phrase “Strong as Hercules,” or the phrase “Don Juan,” referring to “a charmer, generally libertine and without scruples” (TLFi, http://atilf.atilf.fr). Brand names have also led to antonomasia corpora. In a monograph of Marcel Botton (a specialist in the creation of brand names), Watin-Augouart (2005: 73) presents the following excerpt of a text entitled “Good weather for brand names on the beach of Nice” written by Botton: After the storm, on the Promenade des Anglais in Nice, we hear competing the klaxon of Jeep, Vespa and Mobylette. The zips Eclair of the nylon KWay open and the beach becomes covered with swimmers in Bikini, players of Ping-Pong, Frisbee, Yoyo or Trampoline, teenagers “Scotchés” with their Walkman, hired of Pedalos, salesmen of Eskimos. Families take from their Caddies, Thermos, Americano and some fruit under Cellophane still misty with the coldness of the Frigidaire.

The analysis of the brand names quoted in this text shows that some of them became common nouns and others are in the process of becoming so, e.g., Kleenex (tissue) in France (Table 6). On the basis of this corpus, I will demonstrate that there are certain terms which have been integrated into everyday language and have become the hyperonyms of a class of objects. For example, the brand name BIC is derived from the name of its creator, Baron Bich. The perpetuation of this brand name is linked to the massive distribution of the product, with more than one hundred billion ball-point pens produced and sold in 2006 (upload.ffci.symexbelgium.com/REUNION06112006BIC. pdf). This ensured the dissemination of the brand name. BIC is a short term, which offers the advantage of having one syllable instead of four (like in the French generic term “stylo bille bon marché,” meaning ‘cheap ball-point pen’). This process is described in Table 7 below.

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Table 6. Brand names and antonomasia Brand namHV Americano BIC Bikini Caddie Cellophane Esquimau Fermetureéclair Frigidaire Frisbee Jeep Klaxon Kleenex K-Way Mobylette Apocope: mob Æderivation: mobeux/mobeuse Pedalo Ping-Pong Scotchés Thermos Trampoline Vespa Walkman Yo-yo

1 2

Product categories

State of the antonomasia process TLFi1 REY2 (2000)

Sweet cocktail Not indexed Ball-point pen Not indexed Two-piece ladies’ Lexicalised swimming costume Supermarket trolley Lexicalised Transparent film, Lexicalised e.g., used to protect food and medicines Chocolate ice Lexicalised cream Zip Lexicalised Refrigerator Lexicalised Outdoor game Not indexed (beach) All-terrain vehicle Lexicalised Car horn Lexicalised Tissue Not indexed Wind breaker Not indexed Moped or other Lexicalised motorised vehicle with two wheels; “a teen who rides a moped” Slight pedal boat Lexicalised Table tennis Lexicalised Adhesive tape Lexicalised Insulating container Lexicalised Gymnastic device Lexicalised Scooter (from the Lexicalised Italian brand name Vespa) Device for listening Lexicalised to music while walking Game of skill Lexicalised

Trésor de la Langue Française informatisé Dictionnaire historique de la langue française

Not indexed Lexicalised: 389 Lexicalised: 397 Lexicalised: 571 Lexicalised: 668 Lexicalised: 1306 Not indexed Lexicalised: 1516 Not indexed Lexicalised: 1913 Lexicalised: 1949 Not indexed Not indexed Lexicalised: 2258

Lexicalised: 2630 Lexicalised: 2745 Not indexed Lexicalised: 3819 Lexicalised: 3887 Not indexed Lexicalised: 4137 Lexicalised: 4148

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Table 7. Anthroponyms and transformation of generic terms Anthroponym Æ Bich Apocope Æ Bic (h) Brand name Æ %LF Hyperonym: French term = Stylo à pointe bille ‘ball-point pen’ (generic term)

New hyperonym: Bic (generic term)

Hyponym: Bic (brand name)

Hyponym: Cheap ball-point pen

Referring to the chart above, we will take a closer look at several phenomena involved. Firstly, the hyponym BIC becomes a hyperonym of a class of objects, namely of cheap ball-point pens. The apocope BIC, derived from the patronym Bich, is also connected to the term from a phonetic point of view (“ball” represents the specificity of this type of pen). Finally, these new hyperonyms represent a class of objects and, at the same time, a brand name. It does not reflect the emergence of a new brand name of cheap ball-point pens. The linguistic use of this term imposes a restrictive framework on this object as it only expresses the quality of the pen, irrespective of the brand name. Furthermore, it is not possible for another brand name to enter this niche market unless it proposes a new specificity of the product, such as the pens of the brand name Pilot which differ from the brand name BIC in their very fine ballpoint. One gets to these hyperonyms from a quasi-semantic equivalence between BIC and the French term bille ‘ball.’ Bille has also undergone a metonymic shift; the first quoted term (“stylo à pointe bille” or “stylobille” meaning ‘ball-point pen’) has become “pen bic” or “pen bille.” Now, let us analyse the place of the brand name Frigidaire both in the lexicon and on the market. The brand name Frigidaire is both a commercial noun and the name of the company that produces and supplies refrigeration appliances. Although the brand name has been registered, this

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term is defined in the French language as a “Gallicised loanword (1636) from Imperial Latin frigidarium (‘cold room of the thermal baths’)” (Dictionnaire historique de la langue française 2000: 1516). It was taken up by the American company General Motors in order to name their refrigerator (ibid.). In addition, the process of antonomasia differs from the one of BIC. Indeed, the Gallicised loanword Frigidaire, derived from Latin, covered a few social practices except those related to Roman thermal baths. The adaptation of this lexeme to name a refrigerator and its updating gave this term a status of generic term, due to the use of the word by speakers. The various stages of this process are described in Table 8. Table 8. The case of the brand name Frigidaire /H[LFRQ Frigidarium (cold room of thermae) Gallicised loanword: Frigidaire

Innovative technology 'evice to produce cold Frigidaire (loanwordbyGeneral Motors)

The case of “frigidaire” Gallicised loanword Generic term rarely used in the first stage

Brand name for a widely distributedSURGXFW

Generic term widely used, covering the brand name and taking its place

Finally, speakers have updated the term, considering its generic sense. The consequence is the incorrect use of this term, according to General Motors, such as, for example, frigidaire Brandt instead of Brandt frigidaire. Furthermore, the Italian company Piaggio produced a motorised twowheeled vehicle called Vespa. This word (meaning ‘wasp’ in Italian) was given to this two-wheeled vehicle, as the design of the back part of the bodywork evoked the abdomen of this insect (Galisson and André 1998: 237). Although the term Vespa is used by TLFi as “[a] scooter (of the Italian brand name Vespa)” with the derivative vespist “a person who drives a Vespa,” it appears neither in the dictionary of the Académie Française (http://atilf.atilf.fr/academie9.htm), nor in the Dictionnaire historique de la langue française.

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At the same time, thermos, denoting an insulating container, is a derivative of the brand name “thermos flask bottle” (Dictionnaire historique de la langue française 2000: 3819). The brand name thermos bottle is made up of the Greek root thermos meaning ‘hot,’ and of a specific term. Thermos has become a generic term covering the sense of “insulating container with two walls of glass separated by vacuum” (TLFi, http://atilf.atilf.fr/). The process of this type of antonomasia is outlined in Table 9 below. Table 9. The case of the brand name Thermos Term Thermos ThermThermo Thermos

Origin Greek Element coming from thermo(s). Scientific or technical terms in relation to the concept of temperature are constructed with this root. Innnovative technology = Insulating container

The brand name Scotch tape is the commercial name given to adhesive paper, including the well-known transparent adhesive tape. This term results from the French verbal polysemous derivative scotcher ‘to fix on’ or ‘to stick to.’ Thus, we can say in colloquial language, for example, When I said that to him, he remained “scotché,” meaning ‘he was amazed’ or ‘he was ‘scotché’ in front of the television all evening,’ which means that his eyes were riveted on the screen. Although it can be found in the online dictionary Le Trésor de la Langue Française informatisé (TFLi), it appears neither in the Dictionnaire historique de la langue française, nor in that of the Académie Française (published online). The instances of antonomasia analysed so far are based on proper nouns versus common nouns. The opposite process is also used to create brand names. This is the case of the trade name Carrefour, an important place of commercial transactions where customers can find a diverse number of consumer goods. In 1959, this enterprise was founded by the association of two shopkeepers, Marcel Baker, the owner of an important hosiery shop in Annecy (France), and Louis Defforey, a wholesaler in the food and wine industry in Lagnieu (France). The first onomastic choice made by the two partners was the term agora, meaning ‘a great public place.’ The quasi-homophony with the French term angora (referring to the semantic world of cats) determined the partners to give up on this name. They feared that their future clientele would misinterpret the nature of their goods. Finally, they chose to call their enterprise Carrefour,

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meaning ‘crossroads’ in English. This choice was influenced by the geographical location of their shop, located at the crossroads of five roads (Galey 1997: 63). Carrefour derives from the Latin term quadrifurcus, meaning ‘something which has four forks,’ as well as from its metonymic derivation, “the place where several ways cross. By analogy, this term refers to a place of meeting and confrontation of various ideas, cultures and tendencies” (Dictionnaire historique de la langue française 2000: 636). Indeed, antonomasia refers sensu stricto to the transition from a proper noun to a common noun and vice versa. It may also be the case that this stylistic device underlies verbal and adjectival derivatives. An example would be the brand name Javel, whose origin is a toponym and which refers to “an old village of the suburbs of Paris forming today a part of the 15th arrondissement” (Mallet 2005: 129). First, it was spelled Jouelles, but the graphic confusion between “U” and “V” altered it to Jovelles. The product used for disinfection and laundering was called “Jouelles washing liquid” (1830), and then Eau de Javelle, spelled with double “L.” This name was shortened to Javel with one “L” and without the “E.” It resulted in the verb javelliser meaning ‘to chlorinate’ in French (see Table 10). Table 10. The example of the brand name Javel Javel Jouelles ³U´ becomes ³V´ Jovelles Eau de Javelle Eau de Javel We also find karcher (Galisson and André 1998: 153), a commercial name and the name of a company that manufactures compressors used for obtaining water under high pressure. This brand name is at the origin of the French verb karchériser. Its use has become popular since the use of the word karcher by the French president, Nicolas Sarkozy, during the riots that took place in France in 2005.

Conclusion In relation to brand names, antonomasia refers to the concept of “territory” in its symbolic sense. The concept of territory covers several senses, one of which is “areas on which a group is set up” (Dictionnaire

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historique de la langue française 2000: 3804). Corraze (1980: 199) argues that: In every case, there is a personalisation of the area and, in certain cases, a protection of this area. It is obvious that in certain cases, it is the lawful property which generates the territorial behaviour. In other cases, it is the duties which involve it.

Moreover, Hall introduces the concept of “proxemics” distance. He mentions that “the man also observes uniform distances in the links he establishes with the others,” and whatever the sociocultural environment may be, “the personal and social distances always exist” (1966: 143). In addition, language ensures the classification of the objects of the world, which is also a way to locate territory. In addition, Lévi-Strauss (1992: 183) defines territory as “[a] group [which] filters the unit through the multiplicity, the multiplicity through the unit, the diversity through the identity and the identity through diversity.” Indeed, an object can be analysed according to its quality as an intrinsic unit and as an object of a class X and a member of a class Y. Analysed from its parts, differences and similarities can be compared with the parts of an object Z, for example, which is not part of the class of objects Y. An example would be, as mentioned above, the French term machine domestique à glace, meaning ‘household appliance for making ice cream,’ in which the generic term “machine” is a loanword from Latin machina ‘invention’ (Dictionnaire historique de la langue française 2000: 2082). This term is combined with the French adjective domestique (ibid.: 1118), derived from Latin domesticus ‘house, family.’ Finally, the French couple à glace (‘for making ice cream’) is a group of terms that clarify the main characteristic of this product (see Table 11). The registration of a brand name with the I.N.P.I ensures, for the company, a territory corresponding to its nominal space. In France this territory is protected by law, as stipulated in article L714-3 (http://www.legifrance.gouv.fr/), and “is declared null by decision of the courts the registration of a brand name which is not in keeping with the law” (L. 711-1 with L. 711-4). Bourdieu (1982: 210) claims “the belief in the legitimacy of the words and that who pronounces them.” Certain problems arose in the cases pointed out above. Frigidaire or BIC, for example, take up, at the same time, two symbolic territories, i.e., of the brand name and lexicon. In contrast to the lexicon, which covers generic and specific terms in a permanent way, the brand name has only a relative duration in time. It is its integration as a lexical entry that perpetuates it. In addition, brand names like Kleenex (tissue) have taken

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the value of generic terms among some French speakers. Thus, two languages coexist—a language located on the level of use and a normative language (which has integrated the lexicalisation of certain brand names or of the names of their creators). Table 11. Taxonomy of world items Machine domestique à glace (‘household appliance for making ice cream’) Generic term machina Invention machine Generic term domesticus In relation to family, household

Specific term à glace (to make ice cream)

References Bourdieu, P. 2001. Langage et pouvoir symbolique. Paris: Fayard. Cherpillod, A. 1988. Dictionnaire étymologique des noms d'hommes et de dieux. Paris: Masson. Clapin, S. 1974. Dictionnaire canadien français. Montréal: Les presses de l’Université de Montréal. Corraze, J. 1980. Les communications non-verbales. Paris: PUF. Galey, B.C. 1997. De mémoire de marques. Paris: Éditions Tallandier. Galisson, R., and J.-C. André. 1998. Dictionnaire de noms de marques courants. Paris: Didier Érudition. Gary-Prieur, M.-N. 1994. Grammaire du nom propre. Paris: PUF. Ghozland, F. 1999. Un siècle de réclames alimentaires. Paris: Editions Milan. Hagège, C. 1985. L’homme de paroles. Paris: Fayard. Hall, T.E. 1971. La dimension cachée. Paris: Seuil. L’illustration. (9 août 1913) Journal universel hebdomadaire. N. 3676. Le Robert. 1992. Dictionnaire québécois d’aujourd’hui. Québec: Dicorobert. Lelieux, A-C. 1999. De Bébé Cadum à Mamie Nova, un siècle de personnages publicitaires. Paris: Fornet. Lévi-Strauss, C. 1962. La pensée sauvage. Paris: Plon.

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Lewi, G. 2003. La marque. Paris: Editions Vuibert. Maillet, J. 2005. Dico des noms propres devenus des noms communs. Paris: Editions Albin Michel. Martin, M. 2006. Le pseudonyme sur Internet, une nomination située au carrefour de l’anonymat et de lasphère privée. Paris: Editions L’Harmattan. Rey, A. 2000. Dictionnaire historique de la langue française. Paris: Le Robert. Watin-Augouard, J. 2005. Créateur de noms, Marcel Botton et l’aventure de Nomen. Paris: Editions Dunod.

Websites (accessed September 2012) http://atilf.atilf.fr/ http://atilf.atilf.fr/academie9.htm http://www.legifrance.gouv.fr/ upload.ffci.symexbelgium.com/REUNION06112006BIC.pdf

THE PIZZA AND THE PITTA: THE THING AND ITS NAMES, ANTECEDENTS AND RELATIVES, USHERING INTO GLOBALISATION EPHRAIM NISSAN AND MARIO ALINEI Startling relations of the pizza: Preliminary remarks The pizza is associated, in most people’s minds except the most ignorant, with its origination in Italy. Actually, both the thing and the name has antecedents and relatives in countries around the European and Asiatic coasts of the Eastern Mediterranean: even in Italy, a dialectal variant of the name pizza ['pitsa] is pitta, a name which in Greece as well as amid the Eastern Mediterranean communities of speakers of JudaeoSpanish (hence also in Israel) is associated with flat bread. Just as the name pizza has become international, also pitta bread is becoming a globally available baked product: the name pitta bread is routinely used at supermarket chains in London (and these also sell various kinds of Indian flat breads, known by Indian names) (see Gold 1984, 1990). Product diversification has generated some onomastic productivity: hence from pitta we get in British English mini-pitta. From pizza, however, onomastic diversification has been booming in AngloSaxon countries. The present chapter is going to briefly discuss those ancedents as well as dialectal variation—we already did so at length, but in the Italian language, in Alinei and Nissan (2007); our main concern here is with the names that kinds of pizza have taken as this tasty food staple has become global.

The age of globalisation of the pizza resulted in onomastic effervescence For the purpose of assessing the onomastic variability of pizza products, one of us has been collecting for years leaflets delivered at his

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door and advertising London restaurants, or fast-food retailers, or pizza delivery firms, whose customer, ironically, he neither is, nor can be, as he keeps kosher, whether products contain non-kosher meat, molluscs (which are never kosher) and cheese that is sometimes not kosher. (This is not to say that pizza is not often kosher. For example, a pizza margherita is kosher, being made with the flat bread basis, cheese that is often of a kosher type, and tomato and basil.) The most obvious level at which onomastic variability concerning pizza in Anglo-Saxon countries manifests itself is in size descriptors: Medium Pizzas, Large Pizzas, Super Pizzas. These three descriptors appear on a 2012 leaflet for a shop in the working-class neighbourhood of Plumstead (South East London, at 10 Plumstead High Street, SE18 1SN), “KINGS FRIED CHICKEN/Kebabs, burger & Pizza House,” sporting among its front images the large brown frustum of a cone from which doner kebab is cut.1 In a corner, one finds a word in the Arabic script: hҕalƗl (i.e., lawfully edible by Muslims). Unfolding the same leaflet, on the left side (above a shorter menu of kebab kinds), one finds a detailed menu of kinds of pizza, at the top of which there is the following notice: Pizza freshly made to order. We have a choice of Deep Pan or Thin Crust Unless specified we will prepare a Deep Pan Pizza All our Pizzas have a cheese & tomato base.

The foregoing is separated from a specification of the size range (the diameter of Medium is 9", Large is 12", Super is 15") by the word hҕalƗl printed in relatively large size in the Arabic script. The onomastically and semantically relevant parts of the pizzas menu (i.e., omitting the prices) are shown below in Table 1. In the original, names in red identify pizzas containing meat; names in green identify pizzas for vegetarians; and one name in black identifies a kind of pizza containing seafood. The very occurrence of such names as “Hawaiian” (which is not confined to this particular retailer) and “Chinese” as being descriptors for kinds of pizza testify to this staple having become global. As it turns out from a partial name of ingredients, the supposedly Chinese pizza is so called because it contains “Chinese chicken,” i.e., a Chinese chicken-based dish. The “doner pizza” is so called because it contains doner kebab. Likewise, the pizza called “tikka tikka” in the menu, by an Indian name, is so called because it contains “double chicken tikka.” In Indian cuisine, 1 Instead of the Turkism doner which is current in Britain, Arabic rather adopted an equivalent Turkism. Its forms are šawúrma in Iraq and šwárma in Israeli Hebrew.

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tikka is a rich spicy marinade with herbs (if of chunks of chicken or lamb, it is barbecued, or it is pan fried, if of chunks of fish). The “beefeater” pizza, which contains beef, got a fairly creative name, in all likelihood coined by this retailer (“beefeater” are guards from the Tower at Tower Bridge in London), whereas the “meaty meaty” pizza (which contains both sausage and beef, as well as turkey, thus deserving to be called meaty on three counts) is named reduplicatively, perhaps by a South Asian pattern (cf. “tikka tikka” and, at a different pizza house in the area, “veggy veggy”). Nevertheless, for practical reasons, prospective customers are informed under the pizza name about some of the ingredients. For example, puzzlingly, a kind of pizza described as “classic” contains turkey. No Italian would consider such a pizza to be classic by any stretch of the imagination (an ad for another pizza house in South East London boasts on stuffing with sausage the edge surrounding the pizza). Listing the ingredients is only partial; for example, for the pizza margherita, we are only told that it contains “Cheese & tomato,” but crucially, basil is missing. (And yet, when it was invented, served to Queen Margherita and named after her, the choice of ingredients was intended to reflect the Italian tricolour banner: the mozzarella’s white, the tomatoes’ red and the basil’s green. Something significant as this pizza was apparently served at the royal palace in Caserta, a building that the House of Savoy had just appropriated by conquest from the Bourbon dynasty of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies.) Moreover, listing the ingredients in the menu we are considering, from the Muslim retailer in Plumstead, is not because of some regulation (ingredients are stated on packaged products sold at supermarkets), but apparently emulates the menus of Indian restaurants, which provide a descriptor under the Indian or Anglo-Indian names that identify each dish. Interestingly, in the “kebabs” menu which appears in the leaflet under the pizza menu, it is said about the “chicken kebab” that is consists of “Cubes of chicken” (cubes, thus so much at a remove from Near Eastern origins!), cooked on a charcoal grill (named in a manner familiar to native Britons), “served with pitta bread and salad, sauce of your choice.” Notice “pitta bread,” a British compound name in which the noun pitta is a name often identified with Israel (see Gold 1984), even though the word is Greek and very much alive in Greece. Notwithstanding kebab being a Near Eastern dish whose name is from Arabic kabƗb, the pizza menu from the Plumstead Muslim retailer is over double the length of the kebabs menu! Incidentally, one of us (who knows a Judaeo-Arabic dialect) recalls an episode from an Israeli campus mensa, when (being rather insufferent of mispronounced Arabic names) he named

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correctly kæ‫ڪ‬Ɨ‫( ڪ‬with the /b/ pronounced as velarised) to an Arab student taking the order at the counter. The student expressed his delight with the correct pronunciation with an especially broad and sunny smile. Table 1. From the menu of a Plumstead Pizza House TRADITIONAL

green

1

MARGHERITA

red

2

Cheese & tomato HAM & MUSHROOM Cheese, tomato, turkey & mushroom

red

3

HAWAIIAN

red

4

red

5

Ham, pineapple, cheese & tomato CLASSIC

Cheese, tomato, turkey, fresh tomato & mushroom CHINESE

Chinese chicken, cheese, tomato, mushroom & sweetcorn FAMILY FAVOURITES

red

6

red

7

red

8

red

9

green

10

BEEFEATER

Cheese, tomato, onion, mushroom, beef & sweetcorn MEATY MEATY

Cheese, tomato, pepperoni, turkey, sausage & beef PEPPERONI

Double pepperoni & double cheese, tomato BBQ ORIGINAL

Cheese, chicken, green peppers, onion & bbq sauce VEGETARIAN

Cheese, tomato, onions, green peppers, mushroom & sweetcorn black

11

red

12

red

13

SEAFOOD

Cheese, tomato, tuna, prawn, anchovies & fresh tomato SAUSAGE FEAST

Cheese, tomato, pepperoni, sausage CHICKEN SUPREMES

Cheese, tomato, plain chicken, chicken tikka & Chinese chicken green

14

VEGETARIAN DELIGHT

Cheese, tomato, aubergine, onions, green peppers, olives & fresh garlic red

15

DONER PIZZA

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Table 1. From the menu of a Plumstead Pizza House Cheese, tomato, doner kebab, onion, mushroom & chilli red 16 TIKKA TIKKA Cheese, tomato, double chicken tikka, onions & green peppers HOT STUFFED

green

17

MEXICAN HOT

Cheese, tomato, onion, peppers, spicy beef & jalapeno chillies red

18

red

19

AMERICAN HOT

Cheese, tomato, onions, peppers, pepperoni & chillies HOT EATER

Cheese, tomato, spicy beef, onion, green peppers & jalapeno peppers red

20

CHILLI CHICKEN

Cheese, tomato, chicken tikka, onion, fresh tomato, herbs & mayonnaise red

21

CHICKEN HOT

Cheese, tomato, mushroom, green chilli, tandoori chicken & fresh tomato green

22

VEGETARIAN HOT

Cheese, tomato, onions, mushrooms, green peppers, jalapeno peppers red

23

KING CHICKEN PIZZA SPECIAL

Cheese, tomato, turkey, pepperoni, beef, mushroom, green peppers, onions & sweetcorn STUFFED CRUST PIZZA (for that little bit extra) Cheese crust Cheese, Garlic & Herb Crust Cheese & Pepperoni Crust Extra Toppings CREATE YOUR OWN PIZZA—USING CHEESE & TOMATO AS A BASE: Meat: Spicy beef, pepperoni, frankfurter sausage, tandoori chicken, roast chicken & Chinese chicken Vegetables: fresh tomato, peppers, mushrooms, onions, fresh garlic, fresh chillies, jalapenos, sweetcorn, capers, black olives, pineapple & oregano Seafood: prawns, tuna & anchovies Other: BBQ sauce & egg

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Pizza vs pitta as names for ‘pizza’ in Italian dialects In southern Italy the forms pizza and pitta appear alternatively. Contrary to those giving for pizza a Germanic origin (which flies in the face of the material culture of eastern and central Mediterranean flat breads), Alinei and Nissan (2007) showed that pizza is from pitta, actually for the base of the pizza; and this is the Byzantine Greek pitta, whence sundry names for kinds of flat bread from the Balkanic peninsula and Anatolia, as well as (through Judaeo-Spanish) the Israeli term pita, whence in English pita, pitta, pita bread and (as introduced by supermarket chains) mini-pitta or even mini white pittas in Britain. In Israel, one refers as pita even to the very large flat breads (widespread in the Arab world: see such flat bread from Syria in Figure 1) known among Iraqis and Iraqi Jews as xΩ̗bΩz ۨƗy (literally, ‘water bread,’ the tender kind that can be folded) and gáwrag (the hard, breakable kind), or then the similar Iranian flat bread (Figure 2) and the great variety of Indian flat breads, each kind with its own name (and sold that way in London). In Italy one finds pitta in Calabria, Lucania and (in Apulia) the Otrantino, for ‘flat bread’ (i.e., standard Italian focaccia), but in Naples one also finds pettola and, in the Abruzzo region, pettΩlΩ for ‘sheet of pastry,’ whereas in Italy’s north, in Valtellina one finds peta ‘rather flat bread’; and in the dialect of Venice and in the Romagna region one finds the form pinza for ‘pizza’ (Alinei and Nissan 2007) (see Figure 3).

Figure 1. Syrian flat bread. Detail from Nakano (1994: 5,Figure 2).

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Figure 2. Iranian flat bread.

Figure 3. Pizza, pitta and pinza in Italy (from Alinei and Nissan 2007).

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The pizza’s relatives from the eastern Mediterranean In the eastern Mediterranean: Turkish has pide (dialectally pƯde, pite, pƯte, bide) ‘flat bread’; Bulgarian and Macedonian have pita and Albanian, pite (round flat bread that can be opened, as usual in Israel with the local pita. See in Figure 4 pitta bread as sold in Britain, opened and stuffed). In Greece, the pita, peta or pitta is usually rectangular, instead of round. In Serbia and Croatia, by pita one means flat bread studded like lasagna. In Hungarian, pite denotes either flat bread, or sweet baked pastry stuffed with fruits. In dialectal Rumanian and Arumanian, pítă denotes sundry kinds of bread (Alinei and Nissan 2007). Closely related to Rumanian, Arumanian is spoken in some communities scattered in Albania, Bulgaria, Macedonia and northwest Greece.

Figure 4. Pitta bread as sold in Britain, shown opened and stuffed.

In Judaeo-Spanish, pita is documented as early as 1730, in Rabbi Jacob Kuli’s Me‘am lo‘ez; Israeli pita is certainly from Ottoman Judaeo-Spanish, as pointed out by Schwarzwald (1993: 45-46), who cites Gold (1984). Both Gold and Schwarzwald missed, however, the broader picture as delineated in Alinei and Nissan (2007), which also reassesses and encompasses in the same framework the Italian and international noun pizza. Incidentally, as an instructive illustration of globalisation of the name and the concept, note that some material from Alinei and Nissan (2007) was reused with permission on pp. 19-20 and 27 (cf. on pp. ix, xii)

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in Rossella Ceccarini’s (2011a) interesting book Pizza and Pizza Chefs in Japan: A Case of Culinary Globalization, cf. Ceccarini (2011b: 19), where the hypothesis from Alinei and Nissan (2007) is much simplified and conflated.

Earliest antecedents and recent developments Even-Shoshan’s Hebrew popular dictionary (Vol. 3 1953: 1363) claimed that the “colloquial” pitta (pth ʤ ʕˢʑ˝) derives from the Aramaic pita (pt’ ʠʕˢʑ˝), in blissful (or deliberate?) unawareness of the intermediate trajectory of the borrowing. Also Blanc (1989), kindly signaled to Nissan by Reuven Merkin, considered pita for ‘flat bread’ to be Aramaic, but he did recognise that the term was introduced either early in the history of the modern Jewish community of Palestine, or even earlier, in the late nineteenth century, among the traditional Jewish communities of Palestine; Blanc however considered this to be a lexical novelty, introduced in order to denote a kind of Arab bread. Hopkins (2006) is much better informed, in his entry voce pita, pitta for the online Oxford English Dictionary: “Partly < modern Hebrew pittƗh (< Balkan Judaeo-Spanish pita slightly leavened flat bread), partly < the etymon of the latter, modern Greek ʌȒIJIJĮ, ʌȓIJĮ, ʌȓIJIJĮ bread, cake, pie, pitta (a1108 in medieval Greek as ʌȓIJĮ), partly < Serbian and Croatian pita (1685), and partly perh. also < other languages of the Balkans (cf. Albanian pite, Bulgarian pita); further etymology uncertain and disputed.” It is quite possible that it was the intra-Ottoman social network of the speakers of Judaeo-Spanish from the eastern Mediterranean who introduced the term pita to Palestine and, in all likelihood, it was Jews from Salonika, Adrianople or Bulgaria. The earliest sure Greek instance is in Theophilactus, who from 1090 to 1108 was bishop of Bulgaria with his seat in Ochrida. It is unclear whether the etymology could be traced to the fifth century C.E., to Hesychius’ glosses ʌȒIJİĮ: ʌȓIJȣȡĮ ‘bran’ and ʌȘIJȓIJȘȢ: ʌȚIJȪȡȚȞȠȚ ȐȡIJȠȚ ‘bran breads.’ Alinei and Nissan (2007) proposed that Byzantine Greek borrowed pitta or pita from Christian Middle Aramaic, i.e., Syriac or some vernacular,2 as Aramaic pitta ‘bread,’ cf. Hebrew pat, pitt- (historically, 2

Geoffrey Khan (in an email to Nissan, March 13, 2006), asked about degemination in Middle and Neo-Aramaic, stated: “The issue of consonant gemination (doubling) in Syriac and Neo-Aramaic is a rather complex story. In very broad terms, it tended to be lost more in the Western Syriac pronunciation than in the Eastern, though even in the Eastern it was largely lost in the NeoAramaic dialects. For further details, see my grammars [of Eastern Neo-Aramaic].

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there were oolder developm ments in the biblical period,, apparently, from f such bread beingg suitable for tearing piecees from it). Note however that the borrowing ffrom Middle Aramaic A into Greek must have been late enough (thus, Byzanntine) for thee Northwest Semitic S phoneme /p/ to have in the source languuage the allopphones [p] and [f], rather than [ij] and >f] (which was still thee case in Rom man-age Heb brew, as opposed to early medieval Hebrew: seee Figure 5).

Figure 5. Hebbrew /p/ vs Greeek at different historical h periodds.

Pizzarrelle Di Segnni (n.d., n. 166), citing a dissertation byy Della Roccaa (1982), signaled twoo acceptationns of the dimiinutive plural pizzarelle in JudaeoRoman: at thhe end of the Passover morrning prayers,, a festive son ng is sung that is calledd ‘Le pizzarellle,’ like the Roman R Jews’ ttypical Passov ver, sweet Affrication off /t/ to /ch/ is a feature of Western neo-Aramaic more than Eastern. I suggest you ssee the grammarr of Werner Arn nold on the Neuu-Westaramaiscch.”

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cookie, apparently because one would eat it once back at home from the synagogue at the end of the public service. Of course, the pizzarelle, being kosher for Passover, contain no yeast. As to matzo bread, Di Segni (n.d., n. 2) claimed (our trans.): “One can no longer freely maintain, with no suitable evidence, that Sardinia’s carta musica is derived from the Jewish matzo bread, which is what Cesare Medina was doing around 1870 (Medina, 1935).” Especially in Sicily, there is a great variety of Christian paschal breads (some with yeast, some almost without), but they have nothing to do with Jewish baking for Passover. The Sicilian paschal breads were discussed by Ruffino (1995), reviewed by Ronco (1995). Sardinian breads are the subject of Piquereddu (1991), Cirese (1977) and Da Re (1987). There is much more material in our possession, which could result in further publications on the present subject in its broader sense. Food in culture is an important subject and its lexicon ought to interest linguists.3

References Alinei, M., and E. Nissan 2007. L’etimologia semitica dell’it. pizza e dei suoi corradicali est-europei, turchi, e semitici levantini. Quaderni di Semantica 28(1): 117-135. (Also online: www.continuitas.org/texts/alinei_pizza.pdf) Blanc, H. 1989. Ta‘amàh shel pita. [Why pita] (In Hebrew). In Leshòn Bnei Adàm, 22-25. Jerusalem: Bialik Institute. Ceccarini, R. 2011a. Pizza and Pizza Chefs in Japan: A Case of Culinary Globalization. (Social Sciences in Asia, 31.) Leiden: Brill. —. 2011b. Pizza in Japan. Education About Asia 16(3): 19-23. Cirese, A.M. (ed.). 1977. Pani tradizionali. Arte effimera in Sardegna. Càgliari, Sardinia: Editrice Democratica Sarda (EDES). Da Re, M.G. (ed.). 1993. Pani e dolci in Marmilla. Càgliari, Sardinia. Previously: M.G. Da Re (ed.), Pani e dolci in Marmilla. [Catalog of an exhibition.] Càgliari, Sardinia: STEF, on behalf of the Regione

3

Our thanks to Rossella Ceccarini for the following list of select scholarly journals about food (in an email from Japan to Nissan, October 12, 2010): Gastronomica (http://www.gastronomica.org/index.html); Food Culture and Society (http:// www.bergpublishers.com/BergJournals/FoodCultureandSociety/tabid/521/Default. aspx); Food and History (http://www.brepols.net/Pages/BrowseBy Series. aspx?TreeSeries=FOOD); Food and Foodways (http://www.tandf.co.uk/journals/ titles/07409710.html); British Food Journal (http://www.emeraldinsight.com/ products/journals/journals.htm?id=bfj).

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Autonoma della sardegna, Istituto Superiore Regionale Etnografico, Comune di Villanovaforru. Càgliari, Sardinia: STEF. Della Rocca, V.C. 1982. Tradizioni liturgiche e folkloristiche particolari del rito italiano in uso nella comunità ebraica di Roma. Tesi di laurea rabbinica, Collegio Rabbinico Italiano, Roma. Di Segni, R. n.d. La cultura folklorica degli Ebrei d’Italia. Zehùt: Identità ebraica. http://www.morasha.it/zehut/rds07_culturafolklorica.html (accessed August 2012). Even-Shoshan, A. 1953. Millón HÞadáôs Menuqqád uMes¸uyyár (In Hebrew), 4 vols. 3rd edition. Jerusalem: Kiryath Sepher. Gold, D.L. 1984. The etymology of the British bread name pita: A study in Jewish intralinguistics. Jewish Language Review 4: 58-76. —. 1990. More on the Origins of the English Bread Name pita (With a Supplement on Hungarian Influence on Israeli Hebrew). In Jewish Linguistic Studies, Vol. 1. Published privately, distributed at the time by D.L. Gold at the Department of Hebrew Language, University of Haifa, Haifa, Israel. Medina, C. 1935. Tracce di Marranesimo in Sardegna. Rassegna Mensile d’Israel (Roma) 10: 145-146. Nakano, A. 1994. Ethnographical Texts in Modern Western Aramaic (1) (Dialect of Jubb‘adin). (Studia Neo-Aramaica, 1; Studia Culturae Islamicae, 49.) Tokyo: Institute for the Study of Languages and Cultures of Asia and Africa, Tokyo University of Foreign Studies. Piquereddu, P. (ed.). 1991. In nome del pane. Forme, tecniche, occasioni della panificazione tradizionale in Sardegna. [Catalog of an exhibition at the Museo Etnografico of Nuoro, April  to June  1991.]. Sàssari, Sardinia: Carlo Delfino Editore, on behalf of the Istituto Superiore Regionale Etnografico, Núoro, Sardinia. Ronco, G. 1995. Review in Italian of Ruffino (1995). Bollettino dell’Atlante Linguistico Italiano, III Serie, 19: 201-202. Ruffino, G. 1995. I pani di Pasqua in Sicilia. Un saggio di geografia linguistica e etnografica. Palermo: CSFLS. Schwarzwald, O. (R.). 1993. Remnants of Judeo-Spanish in Modern Hebrew. Pe‘amim: Studies in Oriental Jewry 56: 33-49 (In Hebrew).

NAMES IN ROMANIAN GASTRONOMY MIHAELA MUNTEANU SISERMAN Introduction As an integrated part of the Romanian people’s culture, gastronomy is characterised by a variety of tastes, flavours, shapes and colours. This richness results from the influence of local and foreign cuisine, achieved by means of successive cultural, social and other types of contacts. Alongside gastronomic lexemes derived from Latin (pl΁cinta ‘pie’1 < Lat. placenta; aluat ‘dough’ < Lat. allevatum, etc.) and the Thraco-Dacian substrate, this field also contains a series of names from other languages. Most often, the recipe of a culinary product determined the entrance of its name into the Romanian language. Throughout history, there has been a strong Balkan influence on the Romanian gastronomic lexis, visible in the proliferation of words of Turkish origin—baklava (‘baklava’), ciorb΁ (‘borscht’); Greek origin— musaca (‘moussaka’); Bulgarian origin—zacusc΁ (‘zakuska’). Gulaú (‘gulyas,’ a quasi-international term) and papricaú (‘paprikas’) were borrowed from Hungarian. Of no lesser importance is the French influence on Romanian society beginning with the eighteenth century until today, which can be seen even in food-related vocabulary: biscuiĠi (‘biscuits’), brioú΁ (‘muffin’), crem΁ (‘cream’) etc. (see Munteanu Siserman, forthcoming). Equally important is the influence of the Austro-German gastronomic culture. The famous úniĠel (‘schnitzel’) and útrudel (‘strudel’) come from Austria. The aim of the present research2 is to approach the issue of names in Romanian gastronomy (which will be generically referred to in the present study as “gastronyms”—GAN), in an attempt to establish a typology of

1

All the examples in this chapter were translated by the author. This study has been developed within the postdoctoral research project Transnational Network of Integrated Management of the Postdoctoral Research in the Field of Science Communication. Institutional Construction (Postdoctoral School) and Scholarship Programme (CommScie), within the Sectoral Operational Programme for Human Resources Development: POSDRU/89/1.5/S/63663.

2

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these names from several viewpoints: (1) underlying onomastic components, (2) lexical-semantic aspects, and (3) origin.

GAN: Categories GAN consist of names given to dishes/culinary products and beverages, collected and/or inventoried, from an onomasiological and/or semasiological perspective, in specialised books3 or websites that are divided into sections that inventory recipes according to the order in which they are served at a meal, or to various taxonomies of gastronomic categories. Therefore, the following components can be identified in the linguistic structure of GAN, in agreement with D. Felecan (2011: 64):4 (1) generic (with direct reference to the gastronomic product): entrée, salad, soup, borscht, steak, meat products (with the taxonomies pork, beef, mutton, poultry, fish), pastries and desserts etc., and (2) specific, with a differentiating function, in some cases within the same gastronomic category: Milanese schnitzel/Natural schnitzel/ Viennese schnitzel. The identification criteria of the different categories/subcategories of GAN aim, first of all, at an analysis of the specific component of its binary (linguistic) structure. From the viewpoint of onomastic categories, GAN consist of/make reference to the two main subgroups: anthroponymy and toponymy, with all their subdivisions.

Anthroponyms identified in the structure of GAN Some GAN contain surnames—Tort Doboú (‘Doboú Torte’); first names—Sos Robert (Gâsc΁ cu ~, ‘Robert Sauce [Goose with ~]’), PesmeĠi Florina (‘Florina Cake Rusk’), Pr΁jitur΁ Cati (‘Cati Cake’), Pr΁jitur΁ Helen (‘Helen Cake’), Tort Maria (‘Maria Torte’), Sos de sardele tip Lissa

3

The theory is illustrated by means of a corpus relying on well-established sources (Frîncu and Deliu 2004 Marin 2009 etc.; see the Sources) and the author’s personal database. 4 D. Felecan (2011: 64, orig. Romanian, my translation) claims that names of establishments that serve food and drinks consist of a generic component (which refers to the type of establishment) and a specific component (referring to “an emblem/an inscription/a symbolic object that owners or artisans use to attract potential customers to their establishment”). This bipartition also holds for gastronomy.

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(‘Lissa Sardine Sauce’), Pilaf Ali (‘Ali Pilau’), Li-Yu (Chinese dish with fish); hypocoristics—Pr΁jitur΁ Irinel (‘Irinel Cake’). The presence of anthroponyms in the structure of GAN offers reading clues that lead, most of the times, to the identification of the origin of the gastronomic product. Thus, through their sound form, GAN become ethnic markers: Doboú (Hungarian name); Helen (Anglo-American feminine anthroponym); Ali (first name frequently encountered in the Arab world). The occurrences of certain illustrious proper names (real or fictional) require a previous familiarity with their reference, with deep culturalhistorical roots. The correct deciphering of direct/indirect references to historical and cultural figures (from the fields of literature, film, art, sport etc.) requires, more often than not, vast general knowledge. Beyond the simple identification of their reference, the reason for their presence in the structure of GAN is determined by a certain gastronomic context. The following paragraphs suggest an analysis of such GAN. E.g.: - Tortul/Pr΁jitura Napoleon (‘Napoleon Torte/Cake’), according to the recipe found online (see References) or in cookbooks (Marin 2009: 319), is the Romanian version of a famous pastry—mille-feuille and/or millefeuille. However, some gastronomy specialists speak of a difference in composition between the original version of the millefeuille cake and the Napoleon torte, originally from Russia.5 Others speak of an AngloSaxon origin of the millefeuille cake (in English, this pastry is called napoleon) (Histoire du Mille-feuille: online), even though Napoleon’s biographers do not consider this dessert as one of the emperor’s preferences. Moreover, the product did not exist at that time.6 - Nisetru Colbert7 (‘Colbert Russian Sturgeon’), Pr΁jitura Jerboa (‘Jerboa Cake’ < Greta Garbo), Pr΁jiturele Sarah Bernhard (‘Sarah Bernhard Cake’). Through antonomasia (see infra), these are known on gastronomic websites under other names, as well: saraberna, saraberne, Cremă Bibescu (‘Bibescu Cream,’8 chestnut cream). Chataubriant/ Chataubriand, with its two graphic versions, is the name of a thicker 5

Following gastronomic tradition, this cake is attributed to Napoleon Bonaparte, as homage during his campaign in Russia in 1812. However, the product is known in France under the name of gâteau russe. 6 A possible ambiguity of the name of this cake derives from the existence of a homonymous form of the relational adjective napolitan (‘Neapolitan’), referring to the Italian city of Naples, mentioned by pastry chefs as a potential origin of the recipe. 7 French politician from the time when Louis XIV reigned. 8 A family of boyars from Wallachia, dating back to beginning of the second half of the eighteenth century. Marta Bibescu was a French writer of Romanian origin.

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steak, fried on a grill (Marin 2009: 138). The eponym of this culinary product is the French writer Fr. René Chateaubriand, considered to be one of the leading writers of early romanticism in France. The social-historical context of Romania, of the evolution of the social mindset after 1989 has favoured the occurrence of certain names in Romanian public space—names of firms (Felecan, O. 2011: 249-260), companies, even culinary products—that are “contemporary” with political reality or the world of sports. E.g.: - Pr΁jitura Ion Iliescu (‘Ion Iliescu Cake’) or Pr΁jitura Petre Roman (‘Petre Roman Cake’), pastry products first encountered at the beginning of the 1990, mirror an onomastic option that concurred with the political preference of the majority of citizens at that historical moment: Ion Iliescu—president of Romania (1992-1996, 2000-2004); Petre Roman— prime-minister of Romania (Dec. 1989-Oct. 1991). Therefore, GAN can be indicative of the tendencies reflected in the mindset of an ethnolinguistic community, synchronically observed in its historical evolution.9 - Sporting events (European or world football championships) have found an echo in the names of some gastronomic products. The act of naming in this context has a strong emotional charge: name givers prove to be fans or supporters of some teams by opting for the players’ names: Pizza Trapatonni (Italian selector), Tortilla Maradona (Argentinian footballer), Pulpe de pui Pelé (‘Pelé chicken legs,’ the pseudonym of Edison Arantes do Nascimento, a Brazilian footballer), Salat΁ de legume Smolarek (‘Smolarek vegetable salad,’ member of the national team of Poland), Fripturi umplute Van Nistelrooy (‘Van Nistelrooy stuffed steaks,’ Dutch player). A series of GAN has entered the common lexis and specialised terminology by means of antonomasia, (DùL 2005, s.v. antonomază [‘antonomasia’]). The name of the culinary product refers to either the name of the creator (savarin΁ ‘baba’) or to an anthroponym that has a cultural-historical resonance and with which there usually is a generally pragmatic relationship. E.g.: - savarin΁ ‘baba’ < Fr. Savarin; refers to A. Brillant-Savarin, French magistrate and writer from the second half of the eighteenth century, who was an important name in gastronomic literature and also the author of La Physiologie du goût. - jofr΁ (‘joffre’); the name of a dessert, only apparently borrowed from French. Nevertheless, this name refers to the French marshal Jacques 9

It would be interesting to investigate whether there are any gastronomic products that have the name of a person from the nomenclature of the former Romanian Communist Party!

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Césaire Joffre. The history of this dessert (and implicitly of its name in Romanian gastronomy) is linked to an event from the time of King Ferdinand I of Romania. When the French marshal arrived in Bucharest (August 1920) in order to present the king with a medal, the latter held a banquet where a dessert was served, particularly created10 in the honour of the marshal, a cake that would bear his name. There is, however, a gastronym that refers solely to its eponym: Joffre Torte (Frîncu and Deliu 2004: 239). - úarlot΁ (‘charlotte’) < Fr. Charlotte; its etymology is the French feminine first name Charlotte. This gastronym regards a very popular dessert both in France and Romania, and it seems to have received its name in honour of Queen Charlotte, the wife of George III, King of Great Britain and Ireland. - madlen΁ (‘madeleine’) < Fr. madeleine; this famous cake with Proustian echoes owes its name to the cook Madelaine Paumier, who is said to have made this cake in the honour of the former king of Poland and father-in-law of King Louis X, Stanislaw Leszczynski (according to TLFi). - benedictin΁ (‘Benedictine’) < Fr. Bénedictine; liqueur originally made in a Benedictine monastery (PR, DE). There are GAN that refer to social, professional status etc.: (1) Dignity, social rank: Deliciul faraonului (‘Pharoh’s feast’), Orez à l’impératrice (‘Rice à l’impératrice’), Spanac à la comtesse (‘Spinach à la comtesse’), Desertul prinĠesei (‘Princess’ dessert’), Consommé “Royal,” Budincă “Royale” (‘“Royale” Pudding’), Ciorb΁ Ġ΁r΁neasc΁ (‘Rustic borscht’), M΁m΁lig΁ boiereasc΁ / ~ Ġ΁r΁neasc΁ (‘Boyar’s polenta / Rustic ~’), Sarmale b΁trâneúti (‘Traditional stuffed cabbage’), Patrician (nominalised)—meat product: beef sausage (see infra); (2) Jobs, professions: Tartă marinărească (‘Sailor’s tart’), Matelote (carp dish), Ború pesc΁resc/Ciorb΁ pesc΁reasc΁ (‘Fish borscht’), Midii pescăreúti (‘Piscatorial mussels’), Sos vânătoresc (‘Venatorial sauce’), Cotlet vânatoresc (‘Venatorial cutlet’), Medalion de mistreĠ “Chasseur” (‘“Chasseur” boar medallion’), Ború c΁lug΁resc (‘Monastic borscht’), CârnaĠi haiduceúti / ~ macel΁reЮti (‘Outlaw’s / Butcher’s sausages’), Toc΁niĠ΁ m΁cel΁reasc΁ (‘Butcher’s stew’), Pâinea brutarului (‘Baker’s bread’), M΁m΁liga “jandarm” (‘“Gendarme” polenta’), Salata Arn΁uĠilor11 (‘Albanians’ Salad’), Urs ciob΁nesc (bulz, ‘Shepherdlike bear 10

The dessert was created by the Capúa brothers, well-known pastry chefs that owned a famous café in Bucharest in the inter-war period. 11 “Mercenary (of Albanian origin) employed in the royal guard of the Romanian Historical Provinces” (DEX online, s.v. arnăut).

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[clod of polenta and cheese]’), Pâinea studentului (‘Student’s bread,’ from German), Gustare studenĠeasc΁ (‘Collegiate snack’), Bomboane Cowboy (‘Cowboy Candy’).

Toponyms in the structure of GAN Toponyms are found in the structure of GAN either in their original form or in the form of a relational adjective. Several subclasses of toponyms occur: names of countries, regions, counties, islands and other types of human settlement. Such GAN can display the following grammatical structure—appellative (the generic component of the gastronomic name) + (+ preposition) + proper name (N) determiner: - appellative + preposition (French) À + LA (French definite feminine singular article) + specifying locative: Rulou à la Minsk (‘Roll à la Minsk’), Crap à la Shanghai (‘Carp à la Shanghai’) etc. This comparative syntactic structure is a characteristic of the morpho-syntactic system of the French language, where the preposition à introduces an adverb of manner in an elliptic structure that is based on the phrasal agreement that is done in the feminine singular with one of the feminine nouns manière, mode, façon, modalité, absent in the “surface” structure of the phrase. The distributional contexts identified in this case are: (1) Head noun (N) + À + LA + Pn [Proper noun]: une silhouette à la Modigliani (‘a figure à la Modigliani’), effets à la Rembrandt (examples taken from Gary-Prieur apud Ballard 2011:105), a drama à la Dostoievski. (2) Head noun (N or V) + À + LA + toponymic/ethnonymic relational adjective: jardins à la française, vivre à la roumaine, ~ à l’américaine. Oftentimes, Romanian counterparts of the aforementioned constructions include derived adjectives. The index for comparison lays in its suffix: efect (în stil) rembrandtian (‘Rembrandtesque effect’), dram΁ dostoievskian΁ (‘Dostoevskian drama’), gr΁dini franĠuzeúti (‘French gardens’), a tr΁i în stil românesc/american (‘to live a Romanian/an American life’). (3) GAN head noun + À + LA + toponym/toponymic adjective. The comparative syntactic structure makes the same agreement with an elliptic feminine noun as in the previous series, which in the case of the gastronomic vocabulary, hints at the way, manner, method or procedure of preparing a certain culinary product that is characteristic of that region: Daube à la Nisa (‘Nice’), C΁prioară à la Baden (‘Deer à la Baden’), Spaghete à la Carbonara (‘Spaghetti à la Carbonara’), Bob [păstăi] à la Carbonara (‘Bean [podded] à la Carbonara’), Tortelini à la Bolognese (‘Tortellini à la Bolognese’), Salată à la Neapole (‘Salad à la Naples’),

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Names in Romanian Gastronomy

Ficat de viĠel à la VeneĠia (‘Calf liver à la Venice’), Cenci à la Florentina, Rizoto à la Milano (‘Risotto à la Milano’), ğelină à la Milano (‘Celery à la Milano’), Supă à la Toscana (‘Soup à la Toscana’), Miel à la Ankara (‘Lamb à la Ankara’), Tort de ciocolată à la Mississippi (‘Chocolate cake à la Mississippi’), Prăjitură cu cremă à la Boston (‘Cream cake à la Boston’). Among the “local” GAN, Varza à la Cluj (‘Cabbage à la Cluj’) stands out. It is a dish characteristic of Transylvania, but which has spread nationally. The origin and specificity of a certain manner of preparing a dish is reinforced by the presence of a gastronym-noun in its original form: Daube (of Nice) (‘jugged meat’), cenci, rizoto (‘risotto’), tortelini (in the original spelling, the consonant ³O´ is doubled: tortellini) (Dimitrescu 2008: 601-616). In general, the terms found in the field of gastronomy that are loanwords from other languages appear in a form that is close to the one from the language of origin or which strictly follows its spelling (see infra, loan GAN). The idea of comparison is illustrated in the last indigenous variants by a “strongly toponymised construction” (Felecan, D. 2011: 67). Generic name + adverb of comparison ca (‘as’) + preposition la (‘at’) / în (‘in’): TocăniĠă ca la Lorena (‘Stew as in Lorena’), SniĠele ca la Köln (‘Schnitzels as in Köln’), Iepure ca în Andaluzia (‘Rabbit as in Andalusia’), Ciorb΁ ca în Ardeal (‘Borscht as in Transylvania’), Tocan΁ ca la Abrud (‘Stew as in Abrud’). The two comparative phrases à la and ca la/în are in competition. Even paraphrased structures can be found, explicitly stating the implicit comparison: Pulp΁ de miel dup΁ metoda din ProvenĠa (‘Lamb leg following the method from Provence’). In French gastronomy, but also in the Romanian one, the object complement used to express manner can be a relational adjective: Soupe à la provençale, Ciorb΁ de burt΁ à la française (‘Tripe soup à la française’), Ciorb΁ à la grec (‘Borscht à la grec’), Escalop à la grec (‘Escallop à la grec’), Ciuperci à la grec (‘Mushrooms à la grec’), Midii cu fasole verde à la grecque (‘Mussels with green beans à la grecque’), Ciorb΁ de periúoare à la grecque (‘Meatball soup à la grecque’). It is important to notice the two different spellings of the word, i.e., grec—masculine and grecque— feminine. In gastronomic names, the masculine is predominantly used, even though the structure would require the feminine form of the adjective (see supra). - appellative + preposition de (‘of’) + toponym: Deliciu de Leipzig (‘Leipzig delight’), PesmeĠi de Nürnberg (‘Nürnberg cake rusk’), PesmeĠi de Karlsbad (‘Karlsbad cake rusk’), CârnaĠi de Pleúcoi (‘Pleúcoi sausages’). The non-specific semantics of the preposition de (‘of’) guides

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towards the locative value of origin by co-occurring with a toponym. The toponym can have a distinctive role as regards the manner in which a gastronomic product is prepared/consumed: Эunc΁ de Praga (‘Prague ham,’ boiled), Эunc΁ de Westfalia (‘Westphalia ham,’ raw). - appellative + toponym: oikonyms: Tort Seini12 (‘Seini Torte,’ pastry shop known in the region for the cakes it prepares for special occasions— weddings, christenings); oronyms: Prajitura CarpaĠi (‘Carpathian cake’), Pr΁jitura P΁durea Neagr΁ (‘Black Forest cake’), Tort Himalaya (‘Himalaya Torte’); hydronyms: Pr΁jitura Valurile Dun΁rii (‘The waves of the Danube Cake’). (4) Appellative + toponymic relational adjective: Supă croată (‘Croatian soup’), ~ arăbească (‘Arab ~’), Omletă americană (‘American omelette’), ~ indiană (‘Indian ~’), Legume indoneziene (‘Indonesian vegetables’), Peúte indonezian (‘Indonesian fish’), Vinete portugheze (‘Portuguese aubergines’), Ciorbă rusească cu smântână (‘Russian cream borscht’), Cremă braziliană (‘Brazilian cream’), Friptură înăbuúită italienească (‘Italian jugged steak’), Friptură înăbuúită nemĠească (‘German jugged steak’), Cartofi franĠuzeúti (‘French potatoes’), Cl΁tite ~ (‘~ pancakes’), Sos olandez (‘Dutch sauce’), ~ franĠuzesc (‘French ~’), Pacea polonez΁ (‘Polish peace’). The correct reading of GAN in this onomastic context serves as an identifier for connoisseurs as well as for neophytes—the “specific difference” between the same gastronomic product, yet territorially differentiated, is given by the presence of the adjective, e.g., Aluat franĠuzesc (‘French dough’)/Aluat evreiesc13 (‘Jewish dough’). The relational adjective strengthens the origin of the product by associating it with a gastronomic appellative that anticipates its provenance—Cataif turcesc (‘Turkish qatayef’), Halva turcească (‘Turkish halva’), Punci englezesc (‘English punch’), Rostbif englezesc (‘English roast beef’). Examples of GAN containing names of regions or historicaladministrative provinces: Salată catalană (‘Catalan salad’), ~ toscană (‘Tuscan ~’), Ton provensal (‘Provencal tuna’), Mere tiroleze (‘Tyrolese apples’), Sos gascon (‘Gascon sauce’), Tart΁ loren΁ (‘Lorraine tart’), Cotlet secuiesc (‘Szeckler cutlet’), Ciorbă ardelenească (‘Transylvanian borscht’), Cozonaci moldoveneúti (‘Moldavian pound cake’), Jumări moldoveneúti (‘Moldavian scraps’). Examples of GAN containing oikonyms: Croisant vienez (‘Viennese croissant’), BiscuiĠi vienezi (‘Viennese biscuits’), Snitel vienez (‘Viennese 12 13

City in northwestern Romania, Maramureú County. Leavened or unleavened.

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schnitzel’), Terină nicosiană (‘Nicosia terrine’), Rizoto milanez (‘Milanese risotto’), Macaroane milaneze (‘Milanese macaroni’). Where the derivative system of the Romanian language does not allow for derivation with an adjectival suffix, GAN keep the proper name: Deliciu de Leipzig (‘Leipzig delight’), PesmeĠi de Nürnberg (‘Nürnberg cake rusk’), PesmeĠi de Karlsbad (‘Karlsbad cake rusk’), CârnaĠi de Pleúcoi (‘Pleúcoi sausages’). (5) Deonyms: detoponyms and deanthroponyms. A series of GAN underwent a process of deonymisation (i.e., detoponymisation or deanthroponymisation), a phenomenon linguistically accompanied by the change of morphological value: former relational adjectives have become nouns, nouns receive a specific culinary meaning, mentioned by comprehensive dictionaries (DEX, DLR, DLRC, DN, MDN), as well as by gastronomic bibliographic sources: Bavareză (‘Bavarian,’ the German region of Bavaria), Indiene (‘Indian,’ dessert), Japonez΁ (‘Japanese,’ bakery product), Polonez (‘Polish,’ bakery product: pretzel); also meat products: cremvurúti (‘sausages’), Napolitan΁ (‘Neapolitan,’ Naples, city in the south of Italy), Siciliană (‘Sicilian,’ Sicily, region in the south of Italy), Negres΁ (‘Brownie,’ dessert), Patrician (meat specialty). In other situations, the former relational adjective, detoponymised by nominalisation, is more “opaque” in the sense that the simple presence of the derivative suffix that reflects origin does not easily lead to the identification of the initial toponym (in this case, the toponym is less “transparent”): - parmesan (‘Parmesan’): a variety of cheese from the Italian city of Parma. In Romanian, contrary to its origin, the name found its way from French gastronomy (cf. Fr. parmesan), and not from the Italian parmegiano. - maionez΁ (‘mayonnaise’) < Fr. mayonnaise: even less transparent from the viewpoint of “recovering” the original toponym, the name of this cold sauce made of yolk with oil and lemon juice has a controversial etymology. Some consider its origin to be the adjective mahonnaise, in its turn a toponymised relational adjective from the name of the Spanish city Mahón, the capital of the Menorca Island, where the Duke of Richelieu won a battle in 1756 against the British that ruled the island. To celebrate the victory, the duke’s chef improvised a sauce with olive oil and eggs and it was given this name. Another hypothesis (NL, cf. DE: 156) connects the origin of the sauce to the name of another town in the SW of France, Bayonne, which has led to the name of the sauce maionez΁ (‘mayonnaise’) by means of orthographic alteration. The fact that the word dates back to only 1806—half a century after the battle of Mahón (DHLF: 2170-

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2171)—invalidates the first hypothesis that was nevertheless found in TLFi, in the Robert dictionary and in Oxford English Dictionary (OED). Two other hypotheses on the origin of this gastronomic name are brought forward by two famous French gastronomes, Marie Antoine Carême and Prosper Montagné, authors of cookbooks. The former considers that the famous mayonnaise is derived from moyennaise, a word that comes from the verb magner or manier. The latter establishes a semantic connection with the word moyen, which in old French meant ‘yolk’ (cf. TLFi). - bain-marie < Fr. bain-marie; it is not a GAN, but a technique of boiling or “indirect” baking a product by plunging the container with the product in a receptacle that is directly put on the stove to boil. There are more theories that try to explain the origin of its eponym. One of these attributes the name to Mary the Jewess, an alchemist from the third century B.C. who is thought to have invented a series of laboratory instruments. According to another tradition, the name of this technique owes its designation to Miriam the Prophetess, Mary’s Jewish name (see Exodus 15:20), Moses and Aaron’s sister, author of several alchemist treatises (cf. TLFi, Wikipédia and DE: 34). The name dates back to the beginning of the fifteenth century, originating from Medieval Latin: balneum Mariae (cf. TLFi, DE).

Classification of GAN according to their origin Many GAN come from foreign gastronomic names and they are borrowed from different languages either as an effect of the reputation that the gastronomy of origin has, or as an effect of modernisation and globalisation during contemporary times. Some authors of cookbooks (Marin 2009) opt for a clarification of the culinary product in the sense that they try to find a possible Romanian name either by directly translating the word (e.g., buiabes΁ ‘Bouillabaisse’), or by “translating” its content through transfer or total/partial adaptation to the phonetic, graphic, morpho-syntactic and semantic system of the target language (in this case, Romanian). The most frequently encountered source languages are: - French: Langues de chats, Moules marinière, Nid d’oiseau (also named “Sun eyes,” Norway), Boeuf à la mode (see Seasoned steak), Bouillabesse (see Buiabesă ‘Bouillabaisse’ from the south of France), Café glacé, Cassoulet (see Goose with white beans), Chouchroute (a dish particular to the area of interference between France and Germany, AlsaceLorraine), Gâscă pe varză (‘Goose on cabbage’), Ile flotante (‘Floating island’), Choux à la crème (vanilla cream filled doughnuts), Blancmanger, Palets de dames (see Raisin biscuits) Mousse au chocolat,

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Chausson (pear pie), Quiche Lorraine, Macaroni (almond cake). The name of this last pastry product has found its way into French from Italian. It bears the same name as that of another gastronomic product, i.e., the plural noun Macaroni, borrowed tale quale also from Italian and referring to a type of pasta: macaroane (‘macaroni’). - English: Apple pie, English game pie, Chicken pie, Plum-Cake, Cherry Cobblers, Old English trifle, Mixed Pickles (assorted pickles in vinegar), Beef-stew, Sponge-Cake. - Italian: Osso Buco and/or Ossobuco, Pizza Margherita, Minestrone, Caneloni, Solferino. - German: Anghemacht de miel /~de pui (‘Lamb Anghemacht/ Chicken~’), Bishof (see negus), Lebervuút (Liver sausage), Kugelhuph alsacian/~ vienez/~ saxon (‘Alsacien Kugelhuph / Viennese ~ /Saxon ~,’ Guguluf), Nussbrot (nut bread), Studentenbrot (see Student’s bread), Blutwurst (through transfer: Blood sausage; there is a local version: Sângerete ‘Blood pudding’), Cremúnit, Crenvurút (‘Sausage’), ùtrudel (‘Strudel’). - Hungarian: KĦrtoĞ kalács, Gulaú (‘Goulash’), Papricaú de pui/~de viĠel/~de crap (‘Chicken paprikas/Veal ~ / Carp~’). - Turkish: Iman Bayildî, Pilaf (‘Pilau’), Musaca (‘Musaka’), Baclava (‘Baklava’). Because of their reputation, many of these GAN entered universal gastronomy: Cordon bleu, Ossobucco, Café frappé, Coupe(s) Jacques, Piña colada.

Metaphorical GAN The analysed GAN corpus offers a list of gastronomic names, especially in the case of desserts. Some of these products are named by analogy with the form that the dessert takes. Generally speaking, the main pragmatic function of these GAN (they are created for various special occasions) is to persuade potential clients, by means of a semanticreferential unit that is capable of satisfying (the signifier of the referent, i.e., the gastronomic product, saturating the linguistic signifier) various selection criteria (age, the intended type of event etc.) of the consumers: Caban΁ (‘Cabin,’ torte), Buturug΁ (‘Stump’; in France, this product is the traditional dessert for Christmas, with direct reference to the meaning of the Christmas tree) or Trunchi de copac (‘Log’), Evantaie (‘Fans’), Pr΁jitur΁ “Mimosa” (‘“Mimosa” cake’), Tort “Tunel” (‘“Tunnel” torte’), Tort “Arici” (‘“Hedgehog” torte’), Tort “Muúuroi” (‘“Ant hill” torte’), Tart΁ “C΁r΁buú” (‘“Cockchafer” tart’), Tart΁ “Buburuz΁ cu mure”

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(‘“Ladybird with blackberries” tart’), Tort “Ananas” (‘“Pineapple” torte’). The inverted commas can have a differentiating role: Tort “Ananas” (‘“Pineapple” torte,’ ‘in the shape of/like a pineapple’)  Tort de ananas (‘Pineapple torte,’ composition).

Other categories of GAN Some GAN can consist of: - Christian holiday names: Christmas pudding, Scutecele Domnului (‘The Lord’s Diapers’), Mielul Pascal (‘The Pascal Lamb’); - chrononyms: Zi úi noapte (‘Day and night’), Ora “12” (‘“12” o’clock’); - names of literary characters: Alb΁ ca Z΁pada (‘Snow White’), Pr΁jiturile lui Moú Cr΁ciun (‘Santa Claus’ cookies’), Arlechin (‘Harlequin,’ cake), Bomboanele “Figaro” (‘“Figaro” Candy’); - onomatopoeic structures: Miú-maú, Rizzi-pizzi; - names of games: Domino, Chess (desserts).

Conclusion In the onomastic corpus of Romanian gastronomy that has been analysed—evidently open as an inventory—two coexisting yet noncompetitive tendencies can be observed. On the one hand, the identified GAN are strongly anchored in Romanian culinary reality, established and perpetuated through local cultural-gastronomic tradition. Some of these GAN require an “intertextual key” and their correct deciphering sends to Romanian encyclopaedic universe (literary characters, artists, historical figures that are contemporary or not with the gastronomic “moment”). On the other hand, there is a tendency for gastronomic name givers to occidentalise the designations. This is partly due to the prestige that the cuisine of a certain country has, since both the product and the name are borrowed, either tale quale or partially, by various degrees of adaptation. The linguistic structures of GAN include, most frequently, alongside a generic component, a specific component that is more or less transparent, or more or less opaque, with direct/indirect reference to an anthroponym or toponym.

References Ballard, M. 2011 (2001). Numele proprii în traducere G. Lungu-Badea (trans. and coord.). Timiúoara: Editura UniversitӽĠii de Vest.

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Costăchescu, A. 2011. Bref Voyage culturel: les noms propres dans le vocabulaire de la gastronomie. In Actes du Colloque International Les emprunts au français dans les langues européennes, 119-131. Craiova: Universitaria. Dimitrescu, F. 2008. Elemente recente italiene in lexicul gastronomic românesc. In Limba român΁: dinamica limbii, dinamica interpret΁rii. Actele celui de-al 7-lea Colocviu al Catedrei de limba român΁ (7-8 decembrie 2007), 601-616. Bucureúti: Editura UniversitӽĠii din Bucureúti, Dragoste, R. 2011. Des emprunts d’origine française dans la langue roumaine actuelle: le domaine culinaire. In Actes du Colloque International Les emprunts au français dans les langues européennes, 176-186. Craiova: Editura Universitaria. Felecan, D. 2011. ObservaĠii privitoare la configuraĠia semioticӽ a unor nume de firme (NF) din spaĠiul public românesc actual. In Limba român΁: ipostaze ale variaĠiei lingvistice. Actele celui de-al 10-lea Colocviu al Catedrei de limba român΁ (3-4 decembrie 2010): Vol. 2, 63-76. Bucureúti: Editura UniversitӽĠii din Bucureúti. Felecan, O. 2011. Tipologia numelor de firme din spaĠiul public românesc. In Limba român΁: ipostaze ale variaĠiei lingvistice. Actele celui de-al 10-lea Colocviu al Catedrei de limba român΁ (3-4 decembrie 2010): Vol. 1, 249-260. Bucureúti: Editura UniversitӽĠii din Bucureúti. Munteanu Siserman, M. 2012. Dialogue culturel entre le français et le roumain concernant le domaine gastronomique. Paper presented during the National Conference organised by the “1 December 1918” University of Alba-Iulia, 17-18 May 2012 (forthcoming).

Dictionaries DA = Muúat, R. 2006. Nume proprii—Nume comune: dicĠionar de antonomaz΁, Iaúi: Polirom. DE = Laiu-Despӽu, O. 2007. DicĠionar de eponime. De la nume proprii la nume commune. Bucureúti: Saeculum I.O. DEX = Academia Română/Institutul de Lingvistică “Iorgu Iordan.” 1996. DicĠionarul explicativ al limbii române. Bucureúti: Univers Enciclopedic. DHLF = Rey, A. (ed.). 1998. Dictionnaire historique de la langue française. Dictionnaires Le Robert, 2170-2171. DLRC = Academia Română. 1955-1957. DicĠionarul limbii române literare contemporane. Bucureúti: Editura Academiei Române.

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DN = Marcu, F., and C. Maneca. 1986. DicĠionar de neologisme. Bucureúti: Editura Academiei. DùL = Bidu-Vrânceanu, A., C. Cӽlӽraúu, L. Ionescu-Ruxӽndoiu, M. Mancaú and G. Panӽ Dindelegan. 2001. DicĠionar de útiinĠe ale limbii. Bucureúti: Nemira. MDN = Marcu, F. 2000. Marele dicĠionar de neologisme. Bucureúti: Editura Saeculum. NL = Littré, É. 1971 [1872]. Le Nouveau Littré—Dictionnaire de la langue française. Monte-Carlo: Ed. du Cap. OED = 1989. Oxford English Dictionary. Oxford: Oxford University Press. http://dictionary.oed.com.ezproxy (accessed September 2012). TLFi = Trésor de la Langue Française Informatisé. Centre Nationale de la Recherche Scientifique (CNRS)/Analyse et Traitement Informatique de la Langue française (ATILF)/Université Nancy 2. http://atilf.atilf.fr/tlf.htm (accessed September 2012).

Sources Frâncu, G., and A. Deliu. 2004. Buc΁t΁ria româneasc΁ modern΁: 1001 reĠete. Bucureúti: Runa. Histoire du Mille-feuille. http://du-sacre-au-sucre.blogspot.ro/2008/02/histoire-du-millefeuille.html (accessed May 2012). Jurcovan, S. 1983. Carte de bucate. Bucureúti: Editura Tehnicӽ. Lupescu, M. 2001. Buc΁t΁ria tradiĠional΁ româneasc΁. Bucureúti: Ed. Saeculum I.O. Marin, S. 2009. Carte de bucate. Bucureúti: Humanitas. Ramsay, G. 2010. Bucătaria Lumii. Bucureúti: Litera International. Sburla, S. 1998. Bucătăria lumii. Ocolul Pământului în 300 de reĠete. Bucureúti: Nemira. ùoimu, M.C. 2007. Bu΁t΁ria româneasc΁. Marea carte de bucate. Piteúti: Paralela 45. Tort “Napoleon” (sau Mille-Feuille). http://www.lalena.ro/288-reteta-TortNapoleon-sau-Mille-Feuille.html (accessed September 2012). ğonea, D. 2006. Carte de bucate conĠinând peste 2000 de reĠete ìncercate din bucӽtӽria tuturor popoarelor civilizate. In Secretele Buc΁t΁riei, Magazine edited by Hubert Burda Media, Burda România, 2002 (8), 2003(6), 2004(3), 2006 (3, 7, 8), 2007(5). Wikipedia, in French and Romanian. http://wikipedia.org (accessed September 2012).

FROM ACENTINO TO VILLA GUSTO: ITALIAN-SOUNDING BRAND NAMES IN THE GERMAN FOOD INDUSTRY MARIE ANTOINETTE RIEGER

“In recent decades, Italian cuisine has had a greater impact upon the development of eating habits than any other national cuisine” (Thoms 2012: 1). This general statement referring to Europe and North America holds true particularly for Germany, where Italian cuisine is apparently unbeatable. This is the result of a survey on eating out conducted by the Allensbach Institute,1 according to which approximately 50% of Germans who eat out in international restaurants prefer Italian cuisine. The number is even higher among younger respondents, as 77% of them favour international restaurants, preferably Italian.2 Estimates indicate that nearly 40% of the world’s approximately 58,000 Italian restaurants are located in Germany (see Storti 2007: 72),3 a number that suggests that Germans love Italian food more than any other nation. “Ethnic cuisine, however, did not only become more and more important in the [West German] restaurant sector, it also changed home cooking” (Möhring 2008: 130). Consequently, German supermarkets and discount stores offer a wide variety of ethnic food, and pasta, pizza etc. are at the top in terms of popularity.4 Italian food has become such a lucrative

1

The Allensbach Institute for Public Opinion Research (Institut für Demoskopie Allensbach) was founded in 1947 and is one of the leading public opinion research institutes in Germany. 2 http://www.ifd-allensbach.de/uploads/tx_reportsndocs/prd_0313.pdf (accessed July 31, 2012). 3 On the development of Italian restaurants in Germany, see also Bernhard (2006), Bovenkerk and Ruland (2010) as well as Möhring (2008, 2011). 4 How popular Italian food is today can be seen from the fact that even discount stores offer gluten-free pasta, organic olive oil and tomato sauce as well as low-fat mozzarella. However, this is a rather new development. Until the mid-twentieth century, customers were extremely critical about this “culinary Italianisation.” See

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business that non-Italian producers and retailers also want to benefit from this trend.5 Looking at their me-too products, it is striking that these are often presented and advertised as Italian products. Highlighting the origin of a product as a sales-relevant characteristic is referred to as the country-of-origin (COO) effect in marketing: The COO effect refers to the effect that a product or service’s origin has on consumer attitudes and behavior towards that product or service. There are many obvious product categories where COO plays an important role as a differentiator that is valued by consumers—French perfume, Scotch whisky, Swiss watches, Italian fashion, Japanese technology and Colombian coffee represent some of the best known product categories where a perceived fit between the product and its COO confers consumer value. In such cases, there is a positive association between the product and its COO […] (Dinnie 2008: 84).6

What is said about Italian fashion in the above quote holds true for Italian food as well, as Anholt points out in his Nation Brands Index, which measures the power and appeal of a nation’s brand image, and tells us how consumers around the world see the character and personality of the brand. The nation brand is the sum of people’s perceptions of a country across six areas of national competence (Anholt 2005: 1).7

One of these six areas is “Brands and Products,” where “Italy, as one would expect, is strongly linked to food and fashion” (ibid.: 4). In other words, the Italian origin functions as a quality seal for food products sold outside of Italy. Prestigious Italian companies like Barilla, Buitoni or

Bernhard (2011: 65ff.), Del Fabbro (2010: 691) and Richter (2002: 19ff.) for more information. 5 The total revenue of Italian-sounding products worldwide is estimated to be 54 billion euros. If the respective goods were produced in Italy, up to three hundred thousand new jobs could be created and the export volume of Italy would triple, as the Italian farmers’ union Coldiretti has calculated (http://www.lettera43.it/economia/industria/37030/coldiretti-alimenti-falsi-giro-da-60mld-di-euro.htm [accessed July 31, 2012]). 6 On the COO effect see also Schweiger and Schrattenecker (2005: 98ff.). 7 The Nation Brands Index of the years 2005-2008 can be downloaded at: http://www.simonanholt.com/Publications/publications-other-articles.aspx (accessed July 31, 2012).

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Lavazza make use of the COO effect as an integral part of their trademarks.8 In contrast, me-too products must have an eye-catching Italian image to benefit from the COO effect. The “image refers to how something is perceived” (Dinnie 2008: 41, emphasis in the original), i.e., the product or the brand under which the product is sold must be presented in such a way that it is perceived as an Italian product by consumers. In addition to logo and packaging, the brand name is a key element in creating an effective brand image: Markennamen mit einem großen Bezug zum Markenimage werden im Sinne des Markenimages verstanden und behalten. Sie tragen deshalb direkt zum Aufbau des Markenimages bei. [Brand names that are strongly connected to the brand image are perceived and memorised in terms of the brand image and therefore contribute to the creation and establishment of a brand image]. (Langner 2003: 28-29, my translation)9

The above-quoted author names Patros as an example of a name that makes a maximum contribution to the creation and establishment of a brand image. This name of feta cheese conveys “klare Assoziationen in Richtung Griechenland und suggeriert damit eine griechische Herkunft” [clear associations with Greece and thus suggests a Greek origin] (ibid.: 29, my translation).10 Applied to the present context, this means that to make a maximum contribution to the creation and establishment of an

8 The American Marketing Association (AMA) defines trademark as a “legal term meaning the same as brand” (http://www.marketingpower.com/_layouts/ Dictionary.aspx?dLetter=T [accessed July 31, 2012]). Likewise, the United States Patent and Trademark Office does not differentiate between the two terms and explains their meaning as follows: “A trademark or service mark includes any word, name, symbol, device, or any combination, used or intended to be used to identify and distinguish the goods/services of one seller or provider from those of others, and to indicate the source of the goods/services. Although federal registration of a mark is not mandatory, it has several advantages, including notice to the public of the registrant’s claim of ownership of the mark, legal presumption of ownership nationwide, and exclusive right to use the mark on or in connection with the goods/services listed in the registration” (http://www.uspto.gov/trademarks/index.jsp [accessed July 31, 2012]). 9 On the importance of a brand name itself as well as in relation to other branding elements such as logo and packaging see the chapter “Branding-Dreieck gestalten” [Building a brand triangle] in Esch (2008: 207ff.). 10 Patros is actually a registered trademark by Hochland, a traditional German cheese manufacturer founded in 1927 (http://www.hochland.de [accessed July 31, 2012]).

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Italian image, a brand name must be created to “evoke clear associations with Italy and thus to suggest an Italian origin.” This marketing-oriented principle clarifies the aim of this chapter, i.e., to depict features of German brand names under which Italian food products11 are distributed. Following this introduction, the composition and scope of the brand name corpus will be disclosed elaborating the types of brands contained in the corpus, and the terminology used will be explained. The following linguistic analysis focuses on the creation patterns of brand names and considers in particular the question of whether and to what extent Italian language elements are used to create Italianised brand names. The formation patterns that have been found in the analysis will then be examined with regard to their associative power as defined by Langner. The chapter will conclude with a brief summary.

Corpus The corpus on which this research is based comprises forty-one brand names from the food and coffee industry.12 From February to July 2012, newsletters and company websites of several German retailers— particularly ALDI Nord, ALDI Süd,13 EDEKA,14 Lidl15 and Penny16— were evaluated systematically to select these names. These retail chains

11

In the following, the term “Italian food products” refers to ingredients and dishes that are considered as typical Italian cuisine, regardless of whether the product originally comes from Italy or not. 12 A complete list of information about the legal status and the product types can be found in the Appendix. 13 The name ALDI is an acronym of the first letters of the name of the company founders (Albrecht) and the new—at that time—concept of discount store. The ALDI retail chain is divided into two groups—ALDI Süd and ALDI Nord (www.aldi.de [accessed July 31, 2012]). 14 The name EDEKA is an acronym formed from Einkaufsgenossenschaft der Kolonialwarenhändler im Halleschen Torbezirk zu Berlin (‘Group purchasing organisation of grocers at Hallescher Torbezirk, Berlin’), E.d.K., pronounced edeka in German. 15 Lidl is the Upper German short form of the first and family name Ludwig. More information on the company name can be found at: http://www.welt.de/debatte/kolumnen/Was_sagt_der_Name/article6059300/LidlDer-gekaufte-Ludwig.html (accessed July 31, 2012). 16 The Penny company is part of the Rewe Group (http://www.rewe-group.com [accessed July 31, 2012]). Therefore, Rewe is the owner of the registered trademarks sold by Penny.

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are of particular interest for this study because they offer a variety of store brands under which Italian food products are sold.

Selection criteria All items in the corpus meet three conditions: (1) they are Italian food brands; (2) the brands are assigned to German companies; (3) logo and/or packaging of the product include at least one more Italian element.17 The latter condition is to ensure that it is an Italianising brand.18

Types of brands Most of the names that are examined here are trademarks registered with the German Patent and Trade Mark Office (Deutsches Patent- und Markenamt DPMA).19 These are almost exclusively store brands.20 With regard to the brand range, most of them have been designed as family brands, i.e., different but related products are sold under the same brand. Mio Orto, a store brand of the discounter Penny under which Italian food products from appetisers to desserts are sold, is a typical example. Since the examined brands are supposed to suggest Italy as their umbrella brand, the name of the retail company, as one would expect, appears only rarely. The only exception in the corpus is the EDEKA retail chain. In addition to a French and Spanish product line, they offer the Italian product line Italia. The lettering Italia is an addition to the visually dominant EDEKA logo. Even well-known manufactures refrain from 17 For more on the accumulation and interrelation of Italianising elements in brand name, logo and packaging, see Rieger (forthcoming). 18 Deluxe, Freihofer Gourmet and Holmer Mühle also offer Italian food products; however, the consumer benefit of these brands does not come from the Italian origin. Deluxe and Freihofer Gourmet are premium brands promising “pure luxury,” while Holmer Mühle stands for gluten-free cereal products. 19 The German Patent and Trade Mark Office refers to the German word “Marke” as “trade mark” on its English website, explaining the concept similar to its American counterpart (http://www.dpma.de/english/trade_marks/index.html [accessed July 31, 2012]). 20 Classifying brands in terms of ownership, a distinction can be made between manufacturer’s brands, i.e., brands owned by a producer, and store brands, i.e., brands owned by a retailer. For the latter there are various names: Handelsmarke (‘trade brand’), Eigenmarke (‘own brand’) or Hausmarke (‘house brand’) in German, and store brand, private brand, distributor brand or private label in English (http://wirtschaftslexikon.gabler.de/Archiv/5537/handelsmarke-v7.html [accessed July 31, 2012]).

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marking the product with a distinguishable sign of the originator, e.g., in the case of the various canned tomato products Oro Di Parma offered by the Hengstenberg company.21 In some cases there is, in addition to the family brand, another Italianising brand name which takes an intermediate position between the sub-brand and the product type description. There are, for example, mini pizzas named Picco Belli which are sold under the pizza brand Riggano. The same product is sold as Picco Pizzi under the competing brand Trattoria Alfredo. In both cases, the sub-brand replaces the actual product type description. In the case of the family brand Ital D’Oro real product type descriptions like Cantuccini22 or Italienisches Fladenbrot ‘Italian flat bread’ alternate with invented names for cookies such as Fior di Grano, Fior di Panna or Fior di Cacao. Among these “sub-brands,” Picco Pizzi and Fior di Grano are registered trademarks.23

Terminology “The brand name is that part of a brand that can be spoken [and is] used to distinguish one product from its competitors. It can apply to a single product, an entire product line, or even a company.”24 In German publications on onomastics, various terms are used for “that part of a brand that can be spoken,” among them Markenname (‘[registered] brand name’), Produktname (‘product name’), Ökonym25 (‘econym’) and Warenname26 (‘ware name’). Besides terminological and classificatory inconsistencies,27 the question of the onymic status of brand names is discussed intensively. Since brand 21

Hengstenberg is a traditional German company, known and appreciated as a “specialist in fine pickled quality products.” See http://www.hengstenberg.de/de/rh.php/unternehmen (accessed July 24, 2012). 22 Cantuccini are twice-baked almond biscuits, spiced with cinnamon, cardamon and star anis that are often served with sweet wine into which they may be dunked. 23 On fundamental legal aspects of trademarks, see Gabriel (2003: 76-89), Koß (1996b), Schröder (2005) and Zilg (2006: 44-50); (up-to-date) information on the German trademark law can be found on the website of the German Patent and Trademark Office, www.dpma.de (accessed July 31, 2012). 24 http://www.marketingpower.com/_layouts/Dictionary.aspx?dLetter=B (accessed July 31, 2012). 25 This term was proposed by Platen (1997: 14). 26 According to Debus (2012: 201) the term Warenname, which literally means ‘ware name,’ has been established in German onomastics. 27 The terminology and classification problems in the field of (international) chrematonymy (names of things), which includes brand names, cannot be

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names “gleichzeitig außerordentlich viele Objekte bezeichnen und dabei auf dramatische Weise das Gebot der Monoreferenz verletzen” [denote a large number of objects and thereby dramatically violate the rule of monoreferencing] (Nübling et al. 2012: 268, my translation; emphasis in the original), their status as proper names has been consistently questioned. However, it is true that: Warennamen bezeichnen eine Klasse von Referenten, die nicht nur bestimmte Eigenschaften gemeinsam haben, sondern untereinander völlig gleich sind. Es existiert gewissermaßen derselbe Referent mehrmals. Insofern hat dieser Referent durchaus einen Namen verdient. [Product names denote a class of referents that do not only have certain characteristics in common but are completely equal. The same referent thus exists more than once and therefore certainly deserves a name.] (Ronneberger-Sibold 2004: 558, quoted in Debus 2012: 198, my translation).

In 1996 Koß stated: “In der Onomastik ist die Frage strittig, ob den Warennamen der Status eines EN [Eigennamen] zuzubilligen ist […]” [In onomastics it is controversial whether the status of a proper name can be applied to product names] (1996a: 1642, my translation).28 Today, it seems to be the consensus to refer to product names as transitional forms between proper names and generic names29 which are subject to onomastic research.

Linguistic analysis A brand name that is supposed to suggest the Italian origin of a product is certainly most suggestive when it sounds Italian. The aim of this linguistic analysis is to find out the linguistic features of names that naming experts and brand owners believe to be perceived as Italian by the target group. A first analysis of the corpus leads to the conclusion that there are three different groups of names which constitute a continuum. At one end of there are names that contain solely Italian words and/or names, while at discussed here. See Debus (2012: 198ff.), Knappová (1996), Koß (1996a), Nübling et al. (2012: 265ff.) and Šrámek (1996) for further details. 28 On the problem of classification of proper and generic names see Bauer (1996), Debus (2012: 31-56), Nübling et al. (2012: 28-63), Platen (1997: 29ff.) and Zilg (2006: 56ff.). 29 In distinguishing between “proper names” and “generic names” I follow the language use of the multilingual table of contents in Eichler et al. (1995, 1996). On the problematic use of the terms in English see Nicolaisen (1995).

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the other end are brand names that do not contain any Italian language elements.30 Even though this is a continuum, the names will be divided into the following three groups for the sake of clarity: The first group includes, as mentioned above, brand names that have been created fully from Italian words or names. In the following, names from this group will be referred to as Italian brand names. The second group comprises brand names that in their present form can neither be found in the Italian onomasticon nor in the lexicon, but still contain meaningful Italian lexemes and/or morphemes. These brand names will be referred to as “Italian-sounding brand names.” The third group includes brand names without any Italian word formation elements, referred to as “non-Italian brand names” in the following.

Italian brand names Eleven of the twenty-five names were created solely from Italian lexemes or names consisting of only a single element. Four of them are proper names. The brand name Alberto is an Italian (male) first name, Moreno is an Italian family name.31 The toponym Italia is used twice. Five names are based on Italian nouns, namely casale ‘hamlet, grange,’32 cucina ‘kitchen, cooking, cuisine,’ gelateria ‘ice cream parlour,’ primadonna ‘prima donna’ and tizio ‘somebody, John Doe.’ Magico corresponds to the Italian adjective ‘magic.’ Combino is the first person singular present tense form of the verb combinare ‘combine, compile.’ Eight names in this group are combinations of two Italian words: Don Camillo (title of a priest + male first name), Trattoria Alfredo (‘inn’ + male first name), La Luce (feminine article + ‘light’), Casa Moderna (‘house + modern’), Costa Delicata (‘coast + delicate’),33 Villa Gusto (‘villa +

30

The differentiation in three groups is based on Platen’s analysis model (1997: 38-45), by which the amount and type of natural language elements of brand names can be identified. 31 Italian family names that are registered with registry offices and the regional distribution of these names can be searched at: http://www.gens.info/italia/it/trismo-viaggi-e-tradizioni-italia (accessed July 31, 2012). 32 According to Devoto and Oli (2004: 481), casale is also a frequently used toponym. 33 The postposition of the adjective in Casa Moderna and in Costa Delicata is standard Italian.

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taste’), Orto Mio (‘vegetable garden + my’)34 and Mamma Pasta (‘Mama + pasta’). The remaining six names in this group were created from three Italian lexemes, four of which contain the phrase fior di. The literal meaning of fiore is ‘flower’ and the expression fior di is often used in a figurative sense to highlight something as very good or outstanding in the sense of being ‘the cream of’ something. The brand names Fior di Grano (‘the cream + of + wheat’), Fior di Panna (‘the cream + of + cream’), Fior di Cacao (‘the cream + of + cacao’) and Fior di pasta (‘the cream + of + pasta’) were created according to this pattern. The similar formation pattern can be found in Oro di Parma (‘gold + from + Parma’). Cucina Originale Italiana (‘cuisine + original + Italian’) was created from an Italian noun and two postpositioned adjectives (standard Italian).

Italian-sounding brand names Fourteen brand names do contain elements of Italian but are in their present form neither part of the Italian lexicon nor of the onomasticon. Valbontà is a combination of valle ‘valley’ and bontà ‘quality, excellent taste.’ The apocopic short form val is often used as the first element in Italian toponyms (see Devoto and Oli 2004: 3013).35 Yet, Valbontà can only be found in commercial names.36 The short form Ital in Ital d’Oro (‘Ital + from + gold’), which is also an apocope, is often used to create commercial names in Italy.37 There is a minimal variation in the spelling of the name Mama Mancini as the Italian diminutive form of “mother” is mamma. Mancini, however, is a very common family name. The brand name Caffeciao derives from the Italian word for ‘coffee’ and the informal greeting ciao ‘hi!’/‘bye!’ Besides the compound spelling, the name differs from standard Italian in not indicating the open quality of the final -e in caffè with the obligatory grave accent. 34 It should be il mio orto (‘[masculine article] + my + vegetable garden’) to really mean ‘my vegetable garden.’ 35 Examples are Val Gardena, Val Pusteria and Valdarno. Both compound and the separate spelling of words are possible; sometimes there are even two versions of the same name: Val Camonica and Valcamonica (Devoto and Oli 2004: 3013). 36 In Italy the brand Valbontà is written ValBontà (http://www.pennymarket.it/ [accessed July 31, 2012]). 37 A simple Google search (performed July 31, 2012) yields the names of Italybased companies such as Ital, Ital Immobili (Ital + ‘real estate’), Ital Brokers, Ital Prestiti (Ital + ‘credits’) etc.

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In the case of Bellarom, which was created from the adjective bella ‘beautiful’ and the noun aroma ‘flavour,’38 two shortening methods were applied. The word-boundary between the two elements is blurred by haplology. Yet, it must be noted that the overlapping of the same final and initial vowel complies with the phonetic rules of the Italian language. An expression created from bella and aroma would be pronounced as one word in Italian, indicated graphically by the use of an apostrophe (bell’aroma).39 Furthermore, aroma loses the final -a by apocope. Another example of haplology is Pastalsole, created from pasta al sole (‘pasta + in the + sun’).40 Both Fioccini and Gelatelli were created entirely from Italian language elements. Fioccini is a masculine plural form created from fiocco ‘bow, flake’ and the diminutive suffix -ino. Yet, according to standard Italian, the diminutive form of fiocco is not formed with the suffix -ino but with the synonymous suffix -etto (singular fiocchetto, plural fiocchetti). The same formation pattern can be found in the name Gelatelli which is also a masculine plural form created from gelato ‘ice cream’ and the diminutive suffix -ello. In this case, the standard Italian diminutive form of gelati would be gelatini. Although the eight brand names in this group that have been discussed so far show more or less strong variations from standard Italian, it should be noted that they all have a clear semantic concept. Looking at the remaining six brand names in this group, it becomes more difficult to assign a meaning to the names. In the case of Italiamo di Origine Italiana the difficulty lies in the first part of the name formed by haplology. The name was created from the toponym Italia and the first person plural form ending -iamo, by which the toponym becomes a verbal form. This is combined with the three Italian elements di origine italiana (‘of + origin + Italian’). Salumeo was presumably created by adding -o to the noun salume. 38

In certain cases, the adjective can be positioned before the noun. The fact that in German an initial vowel is always uttered with a glottal stop— even though the final vowel of the first word and the initial vowel of the second word are the same—influences the interpretation of this brand name. The results of a survey I conducted among Germans without significant knowledge of Italian show that the (Italian) element bella is recognised. The lexeme bella is apparently so dominant that the remaining element rom is not understood as a short form of aroma (‘flavour’), but as the city of Rome (in German Rom) or even interpreted as (CD-)ROM (see Rieger 2008: 162 2009a: 205f.) 40 Here again, the final and the initial -a in pasta al are pronounced as a single vowel. 39

364

Italian-Sounding Brand Names in the German Food Industry

The names Acentino and Riggano do not carry any meaning. They are assigned to the group of Italian-sounding brand names because in both names a word stem that does not exist in Italian is combined with an Italian suffix. In Acentino the above-mentioned diminutive suffix -ino is used again, in the case of Riggano the augmentative suffix -ano is added to the word stem. The last two names in this group, Picco Belli and Picco Pizzi, are of particular interest. From a purely linguistic point of view Picco Belli could be created from the Italian elements picco ‘peak’ and the masculine plural form of bello ‘beautiful.’ However, it can be assumed that the name was invented with reference to the German expression picobello ‘spick and span.’ Despite the similarity with picco and bello, the term is only apparently Italian. According to the Etymologisches Wörterbuch der deutschen Sprache [Etymological dictionary of the German language] picobello is a “scherzhafte Italianisierung von piekfein” [jocular Italianisation of ‘very posh’] (Kluge 1989: 545, my translation). It can be assumed that the name of the competing brand Picco Pizzi was created according to the same pattern.

Non-Italian brand names Only in two brand names, Baresa and Lovilio, no explicit Italian word formation elements can be detected—at least from a linguistic point of view.

Evaluation The analysis has shown that Italian language elements are used to a great extent in the creation of names that are supposed to suggest Italian origin. Twenty-five names were created solely from Italian words, fourteen names include clearly identifiable Italian elements and only two do not qualify as Italian, from a linguistic point of view. A closer look at the names reveals that the repertoire of Italian language elements used is rather limited. This can be explained by the fact that at least some of the members of the target group have no particular knowledge of Italian. In other words, Italian words, names and morphemes can evoke associations with Italy only if they are perceived as being Italian by the target group. This limits the scope of the available Italian elements to a large extent. In the following, the word formation patterns will be examined with regard to their (supposed) general degree of awareness

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which determines, among other aspects, whether a name evokes clear associations with Italy, thus suggesting an Italian origin.41 Naturally, the toponym Italia provides a clear reference to Italy, e.g., in the names Italia (twice), Ital D’oro, Cucina Originale Italiana and Italiamo Di Origine Italiana. Due to the popularity of the literary and film figure of the same name, Don Camillo is assumed to evoke strong associations with Italy. The names Caffeciao, Fior di Pasta, Mamma Pasta, Pastalsole and Trattoria Alfredo include the words ciao, pasta and trattoria which are so widely used in German that they are listed in the Deutsches Universalwörterbuch [the German comprehensive dictionary]. Yet, it must be assumed that there is awareness that these words are Italian. It can be assumed that the names Gelateria and Gelatelli are by implication associated with Italy not only because of the ice cream makers who opened the first ice cream parlours in Germany in the late nineteenth century,42 but because of Italy’s status as a popular travel destination since the 1950s. Italian ice cream enthusiasts are likely to know the fior di latte43 ice cream flavour. The word formation pattern used here can be found in Fior di Cacao, Fior di Grano and Fior di Panna. As mentioned before (see fn. 39), it is likely that Germans recognise the element bella in Bellarom presumably because there are many Italian restaurants named Bella Italia in Germany. A Google search in German for the expression cucina italiana yields more than 160,000 pages.44 Therefore, it can be assumed that many consumers associate the brand name Cucina with Italy. Since the expression picobello is considered an Italianism, the names Picco Belli and Picco Pizzi are also likely to evoke associations with Italy. The name Alberto is currently neither one of the most popular nor one of the most common male names.45 However, there seems to be a relatively high number of internationally renowned Italian athletes with this name.46 In addition to the popularity of people with that name, a second naming strategy is used in the case of the brand name Alberto, 41 The following statements are based on the above-mentioned interviews I conducted, in which the respondents were asked to rate various Italianised brand names with regard to their “Italianness.” The studies are described in detail in Rieger (2009b) and Rieger (2012). 42 On the history of Italian ice cream parlours in Germany see Bernhard (2006), Bovenkerk and Ruland (2010), Corni and Dipper (2006), Möhring (2011), Overbeck and Osses (2009) and Storti (2007). 43 Fior di latte is a very rich ice cream flavour made of milk, sugar and cream. 44 Performed July 31, 2012. 45 See http://www.gens.info/italia/it/nomi and http://www.beliebte-vornamen. de/562-italienische.htm (accessed July 31, 2012). 46 http://www.beliebte-vornamen.de/562-italienische.htm (accessed July 31, 2012).

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Italian-Sounding Brand Names in the German Food Industry

which applies to a number of other names as well: The names have an ending that is considered typical of the Italian language. In the aforementioned studies (see fn. 41) I have found that the interviewed persons perceived a final -i and in particular the suffix variations -oni and ini as well as a final -o as typically Italian. The names Fioccini, Mama Mancini, Acentino, Combino, Lovilio, Magico, Moreno, Oro Di Parma, Orto Mio, Riggano, Tizio, Salumeo and possibly Villa Gusto are perceived in the same way. However, Villa and Primadonna are also part of the German lexicon. As the aforementioned studies have shown, words that were known to the interviewed persons in German were not perceived as Italian. The names Baresa, Casale, Casa Moderna, Costa Delicata, La Luce and Valbontà do not contain words that are generally known as Italian nor do they have endings that are perceived as typically Italian. Therefore, it remains open as to whether these names can evoke associations with Italy.

Summary The focus of this chapter was on the me-too brand names, under which German companies sell Italian food products. To benefit from the COO effect, these brands must maintain a distinct Italian image to which the brand name makes a particularly important contribution. Names that include Italian language material are perceived as most authentic. For naming experts this means that they can only make use of Italian elements that are considered as typically Italian in Germany. This balancing act between authenticity and the actually existing knowledge of Italian among Germans who do not have any specific experience of the language leads to a rather limited repertoire of formation elements and patterns for the invention of new brand names. I came to this conclusion in an article on the use of brand names as part of a comprehensive Italianisation strategy, die das Ziel verfolgt, den von deutschen Unternehmen hergestellten oder gehandelten Produkten ein italienisches Image zu verleihen, das den Verbraucherinnen und Verbrauchern italienische Herkunft suggeriert. Neben italianisierenden PN [product names] finden sich dazu auch bei der Logo- und Verpackungsgestaltung Elemente, die ikonisch auf Italien verweisen. Da zur Erreichung des Ziels an die bei Deutschen interindividuell verbreiteten Vorstellungen von Italien und der italienischen Sprache angeknüpft werden muss, müssen sich die Italianisierungsstrategien auf ein relativ geringes Repertoire beschränken. Dadurch lässt sich erklären, dass sowohl die PN als auch die visuellen Elemente dem Marketinggrundsatz der möglichst großen Unterscheidungskraft durch Originalität und

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Innovation zuwiderlaufen (müssen). [which pursues the aim of providing products that are manufactured or traded by German companies with an Italian image that suggests an Italian origin to consumers. In addition to Italianised PN [product names], there are logos and packaging design elements that refer iconically to Italy. In order to reach this aim, the interindividually widespread ideas of Italy and the Italian language among Germans must be considered. Thus, Italianisation strategies are limited to a rather small repertoire. This is why PN as well as visual elements (must) contradict the marketing principle of the widest possible distinctiveness due to originality and innovation]. (Rieger 2008: 169, my translation)

References Anholt, S. 2005. How the world sees the world. Nation Brands Index Q 1. http://www.simonanholt.com/Publications/publications-otherarticles.aspx (accessed July 2012). Bauer, G. 1996. Übergangsformen zwischen Eigennamen und Gattungsnamen. In Namenforschung. Ein internationales Handbuch zur Onomastik, E. Eichler et al. (eds.), 1616-1621. Berlin et al.: De Gruyter. Bernhard, P. 2006. L’Italia nel piatto. Per una storia della cucina e della gastronomia italiane in Germania nel XX secolo. In Italiani in Germania tra Ottocento e Novecento, G. Corni and Ch. Dipper (eds.), 263-287. Bologna: Il Mulino. —. 2011. Dolce Vita, Made in Italy und Globalisierung. In Dolce Vita? Das Bild der italienischen Migranten in Deutschland, O. Janz and R. Sala (eds.), 62-81. Frankfurt a.M./New York: Campus. Bovenkerk, F., and L. Ruland. 2010. Italienische Eismacher in Europa seit dem späten 19. Jahrhundert. In Enzyklopädie Migration in Europa. Vom 17. Jahrhundert bis zur Gegenwart, K.J. Bade et al. (eds.), 675678. Paderborn et al.: Ferdinand Schöningh and Wilhelm Fink. Corni, G., and Ch. Dipper. 2006. Introduzione. In Italiani in Germania tra Ottocento e Novecento, G. Corni and Ch. Dipper (eds.), 9-22. Bologna: Il Mulino. Debus, F. 2012. Namenkunde und Namengeschichte. Eine Einführung. Berlin: Erich Schmidt. Del Fabbro, R. 2010. Italienische industrielle Arbeitskräfte in West- und Mitteleuropa im späten 19. und frühen 20. Jahrhundert. In Enzyklopädie Migration in Europa. Vom 17. Jahrhundert bis zur Gegenwart, K.J. Bade et al. (eds.), 689-696. Paderborn et al.: Ferdinand Schöningh and Wilhelm Fink.

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Devoto, G., and G.C. Oli. 2004. Dizionario della Lingua Italiana. Firenze: Le Monnier. Dinnie, K. 2008. Nation Branding: Concepts, Issues, Practice. Oxford, UK: Butterworth Heinemann. Dudenredaktion (eds.) 2007. Deutsches Universalwörterbuch. 6, überarbeitete und erweiterte Auflage, Mannheim et al.: Dudenverlag. Eichler, E., G. Hilty, H. Löffler, H. Steger and L. Zgusta (eds.). 1995. Namenforschung. Ein internationales Handbuch zur Onomastik [Name Studies. An International Handbook of Onomastics] Volume 1. Berlin/ New York: De Gruyter. —. 1996. Namenforschung. Ein internationales Handbuch zur Onomastik. [Name studies. An international handbook of onomastics] Volume 2. Berlin, New York: De Gruyter. Esch, F.-R. 2008. Strategie und Technik der Markenführung. München: Franz Vahlen. Gabriel, K. 2003. Produktonomastik. Frankfurt a.M. et al.: Peter Lang. Kluge, F. 1989. Etymologisches Wörterbuch der deutschen Sprache. 22. Auflage völlig neu bearbeitet von Elmar Seebold. Berlin/New York: De Gruyter. Knappovà, M. 1996. Namen von Sachen (Chrematonymie) II. In Namenforschung. Ein internationales Handbuch zur Onomastik, E. Eichler et al. (eds.), 1567-1572. Berlin et al.: De Gruyter. Koß, G. 1996a. Warennamen. In Namenforschung. Ein internationales Handbuch zur Onomastik, E. Eichler et al. (eds.), 1642-1648. Berlin et al.: De Gruyter. —. 1996b. Warennamen-, Firmennamenrecht. In Namenforschung. Ein internationales Handbuch zur Onomastik, E. Eichler et al. (eds.), 17951802. Berlin et al.: De Gruyter. Langner, T. 2003. Integriertes Branding. Baupläne zur Gestaltung erfolgreicher Marken. Wiesbaden: Deutscher Universitäts-Verlag. Möhring, M. 2008. Transnational Food Migration and the Internalization of Food Consumption: Ethnic Cuisine in West Germany. In Food and Globalization. Consumption, Markets and Politics in the Modern World, A. Nützenadel and F. Trentmann (eds.), 129-150. Oxford, New York, Berg. —. 2011. Die italienische Gastronomie in der bundesdeutschen Wahrnehmung. In Dolce Vita? Das Bild der italienischen Migranten in Deutschland, O. Janz and R. Sala (eds.), 153-176. Frankfurt a.M./New York: Campus.

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Nicolaisen, W.F.H. 1995. Name and Appellative. In Namenforschung. Ein internationales Handbuch zur Onomastik, E. Eichler et al. (eds.), 384393. Berlin et al.: De Gruyter. Nübling, D., F. Fahlbusch and R. Heuser. 2012. Namen. Eine Einführung in die Onomastik. Tübingen: Narr. Overbeck, A., and D. Osses (eds.). 2009. Eiskalte Leidenschaft. Italienische Eismacher im Ruhrgebiet. Essen: Klartext-Verlag. Platen, C. 1997. «Ökonymie». Zur Produktnamen-Linguistik im Europäischen Binnenmarkt. Tübingen: Max Niemeyer. Richter, D. 2002. Reisen und Schmecken. Wie die Deutschen gelernt haben, italienisch zu essen. Voyage. Jahrbuch für Reise- & Tourismusforschung, 17-29. Köln: Dumont. Rieger, M.A. 2008. “Alles Picco Belli oder was?” Form und Funktion pseudo-italienischer Produktnamen im deutschen Lebensmittelmarkt. Onoma 43: 149-175. —. 2009a. ‘Ecorino, das hat Schwung!’—Pseudoitalienische Produktnamen und ihre Wahrnehmung durch deutschsprachige Verbraucher und Verbraucherinnen. In Perspektiven Drei. Akten der Dritten Tagung Deutsche Sprachwissenschaft in Italien, Rom, 14-16. Februar 2008, C. Di Meola et al. (eds.), 199-210. Frankfurt a.M. et al.: Peter Lang. —. 2009b. Hauptsache italienisch!—die Wirkung (pseudo-) italienischer Produktnamen auf deutschsprachige Verbraucher und Verbraucherinnen. In Food and Language. Sprache und Essen, E. Lavric and C. Konzett (eds.), 57-68. Frankfurt/M. et al.: Peter Lang. —. 2012. Wie viel ‚Italianità‘ braucht der deutsche Lebensmittelmarkt? In Onomastics Goes Business: Role and Relevance of Brand, Company and Other Names in Economic Contexts, H. Wochele, J. Kuhn and M. Stegu (eds.), 249-262. Berlin: Logos-Verlag. —. (Forthcoming). Von Arrabbiata bis Zabaglione—Italienisches im deutschen Lebensmittelmarkt. In Tagung über deutsche und italienische Werbesprache im Verglh, P. Cotticelli Kurras, E. Ronneberger-Sibold and S. Wahl (eds.), 277-311. Edizioni dell’Orso: Alessandria. Ronneberger-Sibold, E. 2004. Warennamen. In Namenarten und ihre Erforschung. Ein Lehrbuch für das Studium der Onomastik, A. Brendler and S. Brendler (eds.), 557-603. Hamburg: Baar. Schröder, H. 2005. Markenschutz als Aufgabe der Markenführung. In Moderne Markenführung. Grundlagen—Innovative Ansätze— Praktische Umsetzungen, F.-R. Esch (ed.), 351-377. Wiesbaden: Gabler.

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Schweiger, G., and G. Schrattenecker. 2005. Werbung. Eine Einführung. Stuttgart: Lucius & Lucius. Šrámek, R. 1996. Namen von Sachen (Chrematonymie) I. In Namenforschung. Ein internationales Handbuch zur Onomastik, E. Eichler et al. (eds.), 1562-1567. Berlin et al.: De Gruyter. Storti, L. 2007. Imprese per la gola. Una ricerca sugli imprenditori della gastronomia italiana in Germania. Roma: Carocci. Thoms, U. 2010. Von der Migranten- zur Lifestyleküche: Die Karriere der italienischen Küche in Europa. Europäische Geschichte Online (EGO), nstitut für Europäische Geschichte (IEG) (ed.), Mainz 2010-12-03. http://www.ieg-ego.eu/thomsu-2010-de, URN: urn:nbn:de:01592010102556 (accessed July 2012). Zilg, A. 2006. Markennamen im italienischen Lebensmittelmarkt. Wilhelmsfeld: Gottfried Egert.

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Appendix Product name

DPMA47

1.

Acentino

EM

Nice Classification 30

2.

Alberto

DE

30

3.

Baresa

EM

29

4. 5. 6. 7.

Bellarom Caffeciao Casale50 Casa Moderna

EM DE --EM

30 29, 3, 30

8.

Combino

EM

9.

Costa Delicata

EM

10. Cucina

---

29, 30, 31 30 03, 05 29

Product type48

Company

Balsamic vinegar and dressing with a balsamic vinegar base Frozen baguette, pizza and pasta dishes Sauces, appetisers and spreads Coffee49 Coffee Mozzarella cheese Pizza, baguette

Lidl

Pasta, pasta dishes, pasta sauce Seafood Product line “Italian style”

Freiberger Lidl Lidl Norma Aldi Nord Penny Lidl Norma Aldi Süd

47 The abbreviation “EM” stands for community trademarks registered with the Office for Harmonization in the Internal Market (OHIM) (see http://register.dpma.de/register/htdocs/test/de/hilfe/datenbestand/marken/index.htm l [accessed July 31, 2012]). National brands are indicated with “DE” in the DPMA register. 48 The classes of the International Nice Classification are very varied and cover a wide range of goods and services. Therefore, the table contains not only the Nice classes listed in the DPMA register but also the specific products that were offered under the respective product name in the newsletter and/or on the company website in the evaluation period. For more information on the Nice Classification, see http://www.dpma.de/service/klassifikationen/nizzaklassifikation/index.html (accessed July 31, 2012). 49 The general product type “coffee” does not only refer to (ground and unground) coffee beans but also to coffee extracts, instant coffee, coffee substitutes, coffee products and beverages with coffee base, if applicable. 50 Even though ALDI Nord lists this brand name as a registered trademark (Casale®), there is no such entry in the DPMA register.

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Italian-Sounding Brand Names in the German Food Industry

11. Cucina Originale Italiana 12. Don Camillo 13. Fioccini

DE

29, 30

EM EM

5, 29, 30 29, 30, 32

14. 15. 16. 17.

--DE --EM

Fior di Cacao Fior di Grano Fior di Panna Fior di Pasta

29, 30 29, 30, 31 30

Product line with original Italian products Pasta dishes Pasta, Italian canned products Cookies Cookies Cookies Pasta

Penny Penny Lidl Lidl Lidl Penny

18. Gelatelli 19. Gelateria 20. Ital d’Oro

EM --EM

21. Italia

---

22. Italia

---

23. Italiamo di origine italiana 24. La Luce

EM

29-32

DE

29-31

25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30.

EM DE EM EM DE EM

29 30 29-32 29-31 30 29

31. Orto Mio

EM

29-31

32. Pastalsole 33. Picco Belli

EM ---

30

34. Picco Pizzi

EM

30

Mini pizzas

Lidl

35. Primadonna

EM

29

Olive oil

Lidl

36. Riggano 37. Salumeo 38. Tizio

EM EM EM

29-31 29 30

Pizza Sausages Coffee

Aldi Süd Lidl Aldi Süd

Lovilio Magico Mama Mancini Mamma Pasta Moreno Oro Di Parma

30

Ice cream Ice cream Cookies, flat bread Product line with Italian products Product line with Italian products Pasta sauces, hard cheese made from sheep’s milk Balsamic vinegar, pasta sauces Cheese Coffee Pizza Pizza Coffee Canned tomatoes, tomato puree, tomato sauces Product line with Italian products Pasta Mini pizzas

Aldi Süd

Lidl Edeka Lidl Edeka Aldi Nord Lidl Aldi Nord Lidl Penny Aldi Nord Penny Aldi Nord Hengstenberg Penny Lidl Aldi Süd

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39. Trattoria Alfredo 40. Valbontà

EM

29, 30

Pizza

Lidl

EM

29-31

Penny

41. Villa Gusto

EM

29, 30, 32, 33

Mozzarella cheese, Parmesan cheese, Panna Cotta Focaccia, risotto rice, ice cream

Norma

COCA-COLA, CHEK COLA, OR RALLY COLA?: A COMPARISON OF FAMOUS NAME BRAND SODAS AND THEIR PRIVATE LABEL IMITATORS LAUREL A. SUTTON

Would you rather have a Coke or a Rally Cola? A Dr Pepper or a Dr. Skipper? A Mountain Dew or a Rocky Mist? As consumers, we are trained to recognise brands and to make our purchasing choices accordingly. Big companies spend millions of dollars on marketing and advertising to promote their brand names to the public. The end result is that when consumers think of sweetened, coloured, flavoured, caffeinated, carbonated beverages, they will remember the names Coca-Cola, Dr Pepper and Mountain Dew—even though the ingredients may be identical to dozens of similar sodas on the market. In this study, I will explore soda names in the world of famous brands and private brands and discuss the ways in which private label brands attempt to emulate their more famous cousins. First I want to define the terms I will be using. A brand encompasses all of the experiences and expectations that have come to be associated with a company or product in the customer’s mind. The brand name is the word or words that are used as a label for the goods and services. One way to look at it is that the brand name is a trigger. Say the word and you call up all of those associations in the public mind that collectively define the brand and what it stands for. In the case of Coca-Cola, the brand as a whole consists not only of the name, the Spenserian script in which it is written, the flowing white “dynamic ribbon” on a red background, the phrase “It’s The Real Thing,” and even the contour shape of the bottle, but intangible associations like “All-American,” authenticity, familiarity, holidays, families etc. (Most of these associations have been built through advertising, e.g., Coke’s annual Christmas ad campaigns featuring Santa Claus and polar bears.) The name is one part of the brand, but perhaps the most important part, since it often appears without any of the supporting graphics.

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Figure 1. Contour of a Coca-Cola bottle

Names such as Coca-Cola, Dr Pepper and Mountain Dew are also trademarks; that is, they are registered in official government databases (in the US and elsewhere) to identify a particular business as the source of the goods and services sold under that name. The trademark gives the owner, and no one else, the rights to use that name in business. Historical use of trademarks—literally, a physical mark on a product indicating the maker and/or guild to which the maker belonged—arose initially in Italy during the fourteenth century and reached England during the sixteenth century (Richardson 2008: 3), although blacksmiths who made swords in the Roman Empire were probably the first to employ them. The main function of a trademark is to prevent likelihood of confusion between similar brand names for similar goods and services by assigning legal rights to its owner.1 When a brand has been in the market and has some level of recognition in public space, it accrues a certain amount of brand equity. Equity can be defined as its value in terms of dollars, based on the idea that products 1

Note that it is legally acceptable and even common for the same names to be used for different products and services. For example, the browser Internet Explorer coexists with the car Ford Explorer, as well as the children’s cartoon character Dora the Explorer and the magazine National Geographic Explorer. No one is likely to confuse these four names and think that they all come from the same source.

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Coca-Cola, Chek Cola, or Rally Cola?

with a well-known brand name will generate more money than those with a lesser-known name. Tangible elements of brand equity include market share and profit margins, as well as intangible factors like consumer recognition and brand values. Coca-Cola has a tremendous amount of brand equity—not just in recognition of the name around the world, but all the brand assets (the logo, the ribbon, the contour bottle), associations with certain vendors (e.g., McDonald’s) commercials in print and television (the original 1971 Coca-Cola commercial featuring the song “I’d Like to Teach the World to Sing” has over a million views on YouTube) etc. Interbrand, a brand strategy agency that performs annual brand valuations, ranked Coca-Cola the most valuable brand in the world in 2011, with a value of almost $72 billion dollars (Best Global Brands 2011: 18). It is the responsibility of a company like Coca-Cola to vigorously protect its trademarks.2 This is an endless task, as new products and companies enter the market, many of whom would like to trade on Coke’s famous reputation; if a new product is launched which has a name, or logo, or colour scheme too similar to that trademarked by Coca-Cola, it is their responsibility to exercise their legal rights by sending a cease-anddesist letter. Without this kind of response to trademark infringement, it is highly likely that the market would be full of confusingly similar products to Coke (perhaps with names like Koke) and consumers could be easily misled into buying a competitor’s can of soda, thinking it was the “real thing.” Yet there are many sodas available that are almost identical in flavour and colour to Coke, which was first sold as a medicinal syrup in 1885. The most famous is Pepsi-Cola, which is said to have a different “secret formula,” but studies have shown that most people cannot tell the difference between unlabelled colas (Shirrell Kaswell 2007: 10).3 Of course, modern technology has made it possible to decipher the most secret of secret formulas (through gas chromatography and other devices at specialised food laboratories), so there are very likely dozens of brown caffeinated sodas using a formula very close to that from which Coca-Cola is made. Since competitors cannot differentiate by content, they must differentiate by price—and by name. (This is also the case of food staples such as sugar, flour, salt, milk etc.)

2

The name Coca-Cola was trademarked in 1883 for “Nutrient or tonic beverages.” They now hold hundreds of trademarks for products, taglines, advertising slogans, merchandise etc. 3 This review of the research shows that consumers are heavily influenced by labels when attempting to identify sodas.

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The name Coca-Cola was drawn from the key ingredients in the first formulation of the syrup, cocaine and caffeine. The cocaine was derived from the coca leaf and the caffeine from kola nuts (the “k” in kola was replaced with a “c” to make it visually alliterative with “coca”). Popular “cola” competitors at the time included My-Coca, Celery-Cola, Tru-Cola, Lima Cola, Better Cola and, of course, Pepsi-Cola, created in 1898 (and trademarked as a name in 1906) (Poundstone 1983: 31). By 1906, there were over 100 different “medicated” soft drinks on the market (Sternberg 1909: 372) using caffeine as the main ingredient (See list in the Appendix). Since government regulation of cocaine began in the US in 1902, restricting the dispensing of cocaine to physicians, these soft drinks contained only very small amounts, if any, of “coca”; and the caffeine likely came from other sources than the kola nut, due to the difficulty of extracting it. (In 1916 Coca-Cola was refining its caffeine from tea dust.) Through the use of the word parts “cola” or “ola,” the names of competitive products were clearly designed to recall Coca-Cola, letting consumers know they were purchasing the same kind of soft drink. But one side effect of the explosion of Coke imitator brands was the genericisation of the word “cola”: it became a word meaning any caffeinated, caramel-coloured, flavoured, carbonated soft drink. In fact, since the 1941 the US Patent and Trademark Office has used the phrase “cola flavoured soft drinks” as a descriptor for all the Coke-type product names applying for trademarks. Coke can own and protect the trademark Coca-Cola, but they cannot stop other manufacturers from using the word “cola” in their product names. In the early 1900s, most of the Coca-Cola competitors were small, local manufacturers, serving specific geographical areas of the United States. Over time, however, most of them were driven out of business by Coke. Today in the US, most competitors are private label brands (also known as store brands)—that is, brands offered by retailers in order to compete with well-known national or international brands. Examples include supermarket brands like Safeway’s O Organics line of organic products and warehouse retailer Costco’s Kirkland Signature product brand. Globally, however, most Coke competitors are country-specific and in some cases have been purchased by Coke, while still being sold under the original name (such as Inca Kola in Peru and Thums Up in India). Because private label brands do not have the brand recognition that Coke and Pepsi have, they must identify themselves quickly and directly. Therefore, the word “cola” is an essential part of the name, letting the consumer know that the beverage is in the same general category as Coke (caffeinated, caramel-coloured, flavoured, carbonated). In many cases,

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Coca-Cola, Chek Cola, or Rally Cola?

private retailers have found it sufficient to affix the word “cola” to the name of the store or to its established product line name. Examples include: Big K Cola (Kroger supermarkets) Chek Cola (Winn-Dixie supermarkets) Food Lion Cola (Food Lion supermarkets) GT Cola (Aldi’s supermarkets) Kirkland Cola (Costco stores) Piggly Wiggly Cola (Piggly Wiggly supermarkets) Sam’s Cola (Wal-Mart stores) Superchill Cola (SuperValu stores)

None of these names attempt to establish a brand; they merely serve to associate the generic drink “cola” with the retailer who provides it. The link to Coca-Cola is reinforced by use of the colour red on the packaging and in some cases a version of the ribbon, as is the case with Big K Cola.

Figure 2. Big K Cola packaging

Only a few retailers have attempted to emulate the Coke brand in their private label name by using different words and metaphors to evoke the kind of positive emotions that Coke does: Go2 Cola (Safeway supermarkets) Max Cola (Jewel supermarkets) Rally Cola (Ahold supermarkets)

Both Go2 and Rally connote speed, as does Max, to a lesser extent. They are familiar, real English words; they suggest energy, power and positivity. Go2 also suggests the idea of “first choice; the one I want.” All these ideas are consistent with Coke’s brand messages of happiness,

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refreshment and optimism (all of which might be a result of the caffeine in Coke!). Rally Cola in particular provides an interesting case: my company, Catchword, developed the name for Ahold based on a very specific set of naming parameters. These included: x x x x x x x x x

Should call to mind a “Classic” beverage—an “Original” beverage The leader of the pack—the one others try to emulate A brand that feels “Comfortable,” “Familiar” and “Time-tested” It’s an all-American brand, though avoiding overly patriotic messaging—think Levi’s It’s a brand for which you feel nostalgic It’s a brand that fits in with your everyday routine—a regular part of every day The target is a slightly older, more conservative group than for Pepsi Not as youthful and exuberant as Pepsi (a challenger brand) Interested in particularly short, ideally one-syllable names

To find the right name, we developed hundreds of potential name candidates, chose the ones that best represented the desired characteristics, screened them for legal availability and presented multiple rounds of work to the client. In the end, they felt Rally was the best choice, for the following reasons: x x x x x x x x

The word “rally” literally means “to restore the spirits or courage; to call together for a common purpose” Embodies a distinctly American sensibility (rallies are commonly held for political, sporting and scholastic purposes) The word is simple, familiar, enduring It has strong positive emotions—support, friendship, team spirit etc. It has energy—you can hear, see and feel a rally The word is short and easy to remember Has some nostalgic overtones—e.g., high school football rally Some suggestion of a competition—activity, energy, excitement

The name also stood out in the field of competitors, as it did not reference either the parent company (Ahold) or the individual stores where it was sold (Stop & Shop, Giant, Bi-Lo). The tie-back to Coke was subtle, but reinforced with the ubiquitous red can.4 4

Rally Cola continues to be sold at Bi-Lo supermarkets in the southern United States, after Bi-Lo was sold by Ahold in 2005. Other Ahold stores no longer carry the brand.

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Coca-Cola, Chek Cola, or Rally Cola?

In contrast to semantic branding of Coca-Cola private label brands, imitators of Dr Pepper5 (another caffeinated, caramel-coloured, uniquelyflavoured, carbonated soft drink, invented in 1885) have focused almost exclusively on the morphology of the name. The websites Attack of the Dr Pepper Clones6 and The Van Gogh-Gogh’s Doctor Sodas7 list over fifty private label brands, all but two of which start with “Dr.” (the two outliers use “Doc” and “Mr.” instead of “Dr.”) The words following “Dr.” are sometimes simple consonants, as in these examples, most of which reference the store name: Dr. A+ (Albertsons’ supermarkets) Dr. B (HEB supermarkets) Dr. D (Delchamps supermarkets) Dr. K (Kroger supermarkets) Dr. M (Meijer supermarkets) Dr. R (Randall’s supermarkets) Dr. U (Ukrop’s supermarkets) Dr. W (Wegmans supermarkets)

They may also simply insert the complete store name: Dr. Furr’s (Furr’s Grocery stores) Dr. Hy-Vee (Hy-Vee supermarkets) Dr. IGA (IGA supermarkets) Dr. Lowe’s (Lowes supermarkets) Dr. Randall’s (Randall’s Grocery stores) Dr. Shaw’s (Shaw’s Grocery stores) Dr. Vess / Dr. Schnee (Vess Soda, purchased by Donald Schneebarger) Dr. Weis (Weis supermarkets)

Occasionally they evoke the feeling of excitement or refreshment one is presumably supposed to experience while drinking the beverage. This may be related to the semantics of “pep” in “pepper,” although Dr Pepper is not noted for particularly high caffeine content: Dr. Bold (Lucky supermarkets) 5

Dr Pepper was originally spelled “Dr. Pepper” with a period, but the period after “Dr” was discarded for stylistic and legibility reasons in the 1950s. The origin of the name “Dr Pepper” is uncertain, but the drink may have been named after a friend of Wade Morrison, the man who popularised it. 6 http://www.tacticmarketing.com/attack-of-the-dr-pepper-clones/ (accessed September 2012). 7 http://www.vgg.com/drsodas/drhave.html (accessed September 2012).

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Dr. Delight (Delchamps supermarkets) Dr. Extreme (Harris Teeter Grocery stores) Dr. Perky (Food Lion supermarkets) Dr. Pop (Save-A-Lot stores) Dr. Radical (Harris Teeter Grocery stores) Dr. Smooth (Harris Teeter Grocery stores) Dr. Sparkle (Lowe’s Foods stores) Dr. Zing (Giant supermarkets)

And some are merely whimsical: Dr. Bob (Ahold supermarkets, developed by Catchword) Dr. Cheaper (It’sa brand, sold in small grocery stores) Dr. Good Guy (Kalil Bottling’s own brand) Dr. Riffic (Eckerd Drug stores) Dr. Stripes (Cott Beverages, sold in many supermarkets) Mr. Pig (Piggly Wiggly supermarkets)

Figure 3. Dr Pepper and Dr. Bob cans

But perhaps the most interesting are those where the names mimic Dr Pepper so closely that the likelihood of confusion seems very real: Dr. Topper (Dollar General stores) Dr. Skipper (Safeway supermarkets)

Here, both these names use the form “-pp-” + “-er” to recall the visual form of the name “Dr Pepper” as well as the phonetics and the rhythm of

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Coca-Cola, Chek Cola, or Rally Cola?

the name: they sound very similar. Several other names use the “-er/or” ending as well: Dr. Tremor (Raley’s supermarkets) Dr. Quencher (Spartan Stores) Dr. Thunder (Wal-Mart stores)

Why has not the manufacturer, the Dr Pepper Snapple group, sued to stop them? They have sued in the past—in fact, they sued the Coca-Cola company in 1972 to stop them marketing a soda called Peppo. Coke responded by changing the name to Dr. Pibb, but this was still found to violate Dr Pepper’s trademark. Finally, the name was changed to Mr. Pibb, a brand that is still sold today. The “Dr” element is clearly protectable, so the coexistence might be explained by the fact that Dr Pepper did not vigorously enforce its trademark rights against all new comers. Clearly Peppo, a Coke product, was deemed threatening enough that a lawsuit had to be filed to stop it. But beyond that, perhaps the private label brands have been introduced so quickly that as one new name has led to another, the “Dr” word part has become so diluted that the original scope of rights has shrunken significantly, making it hard or impossible to clean up after so much is out there. It is also worth noting that only a few of the Dr Pepper clone names are trademarked (Dr. Bob, Dr. Vess, Dr. Stripes, Dr. Thunder, Dr. Good Guy) and store brands come and go on a regular basis. The store brands may be an annoyance, but they may not be perceived as a threat. Additionally, such lawsuits would create a difficult retail environment for famous brands. If Coca-Cola sues the SuperValu chain over an imitation brand of soda, they are suing their own customers, since SuperValu purchases Coke products and resells them to consumers. Generally, if lawsuits are filed, the intention is not to end up in court, but to impress upon the retailer the seriousness of the infringement and then work out a resolution behind the scenes, rather than in court.8 From a branding point of view, it could be argued that the use of “Dr.” and especially words like “skipper” or “topper” are not meant to confuse the consumer. Dr Pepper, like Coca-Cola, would qualify as a famous brand: most consumers walking into a supermarket would recognise cans of Dr Pepper by the logo, colours and placement of the product (famous brands are typically placed at eye level to encourage purchasing, while 8

Rather than suing retailers, famous brand companies will sometimes sue the manufacturers of store brand products, just to avoid the hostile situation a lawsuit would create.

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store brands are either higher or lower). Signage in the store also makes it clear that store brands are a clear alternative to famous brands; there are often shelf signs that read “Compare our brand to the famous name brand.” Signs like these, plus the obvious difference in price between famous brands and store brands, educate the consumer that store brands are a value opportunity. A name like Dr. Skipper or even Dr. A+ would signal to the consumer that the can contains a Dr Pepper-like beverage, not that it is a new variety of Dr Pepper. Whimsical names like Dr. Bob (a short, friendly man’s name) and Dr. Riffic (a nice play on the last syllable of “doctor” and a truncation of “terrific”) invite the consumer to join in the joke: there are only so many ways to convey the idea that the store brand is an imitation of Dr Pepper, so why not choose something silly? Names like Dr. Randall’s or Dr. Shaw’s are even more transparent, saying, in essence, “Here’s our knockoff Dr Pepper soda! We didn’t bother naming it because we just want you to remember where you bought it.” One last example shows name imitation in an even more limited scope. Mountain Dew, a sweetened, fluorescent yellow-coloured, citrusflavoured, highly caffeinated, carbonated beverage, was invented in the 1940s in Tennessee; the company was acquired by Pepsi-Cola in 1964, at which point distribution expanded across the United States. The term “mountain dew” was originally Southern slang for homemade whiskey and early packaging showed a cartoon-style mountaineer known as Willy the Hillbilly. The name Mountain Dew was trademarked in 1953 and renewed by PepsiCo in 1966 after the purchase was complete. Like Coke and Dr Pepper, there are many private label versions, most of which stick to the “Mountain _____” formula, where the second word references the caffeination, as in these examples: Mountain Breeze (Safeway supermarkets) Mountain Explosion (Dollar General stores) Mountain Frost (Aldi’s supermarkets) Mountain Fury (Roundy’s supermarkets) Mountain Maze (Albertsons’ supermarkets) Mountain Mojo (Foodland stores) Mountain Roar (Harris Teeter Grocery stores) Mountain Rush (Shasta brand, sold in many stores) Mountain Splash (Publix supermarkets) Mountain Wave (Walgreens stores) Mt. Chill (SuperValu stores)

Some reference the retailer where it is sold, as seen in the previous cola and Dr Pepper examples:

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Coca-Cola, Chek Cola, or Rally Cola? Mountain Lion (Food Lion supermarkets) Mountain W (Wegmans supermarkets)

And another group of names specifically calls out the “hillbilly” associations of the original brand: Heee Haw (Hy-Vee supermarkets) Hillbilly Holler (Fareway stores) Mountain Holler (Save-A-Lot supermarkets) Mountain Lightning (Wal-Mart stores) Mountain Moondrops (Ingles stores) Mountain Yeller (Piggly Wiggly supermarkets)

“Heee Haw” references the US TV variety show “Hee Haw,” which featured comedy and country music and which ran from 1969 to 1992. “Holler” is a Southern US form of the word “hollow,” meaning a lowland between ranges of mountains or hills. “Moondrops” suggests the word “moonshine,” a Southern slang word for homemade liquor (the same reference for the name “Mountain Dew”); so does “Lightning,” a reference to the slang term “white lightning.” And “yeller” (standing in for “yellow,” the colour of the drink), like “holler,” uses the -er ending, a common way of representing the Southern US dialectal form of words having the -ellow ending (“fellow” > “feller” is another example). There may also be a double pun, “yeller” meaning ‘one who yells out,’ which would refer back to the caffeination message. As we would expect, only a few of the names are trademarked (Mountain Frost, Mountain Lightning, Mountain Rush) and almost all of them are in green cans and bottles that are highly reminiscent of Mountain Dew packaging.

Figure 4. Mountain Dew and Mountain Lightning bottles

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There are a few remaining imitators that take a different tack: Kountry Mist (Winn-Dixie supermarkets) Rocky Mist (Meijer supermarkets)

Here, the word “mist” substitutes for “dew,” and “rocky” is designed to evoke the Rocky Mountains. The altered spelling of “country,” using a “k” is likely meant to evoke an attempt at phonetic spelling (the “hillbilly” association again). Interestingly, the PepsiCo company has its own quasicompetitor to Mountain Dew, called Sierra Mist9—a name which simply replaces two words with their synonyms. The soda itself is not quite the same; Sierra Mist is supposed to be more of a lemon-lime flavour and is not coloured bright yellow, but the name is provocatively close to Mountain Dew. The names Kountry Mist and Rocky Mist might also be seen as mimicking Sierra Mist, rather than Mountain Dew. As we have seen, the main difference between the Coca-Cola imitator names and the Dr Pepper/Mountain Dew names is in their construction. This is because Coca-Cola is, by definition, a cola beverage; “cola” is supposed to describe the taste of the soda, even though the actual flavour of kola nuts ceased to be perceptible long ago. But Dr Pepper and Mountain Dew are not naturally flavoured. There is no common English word to describe their flavours and so the store brand names must rely on the most recognisable word in the name to tie back to the famous brand: “dr” and “mountain,” respectively. So where are private brands headed? Between 2006 and 2009, private brand market share rose across 74% of products in the personal care, household goods and food and beverage categories in the United States (Deloitte Debates: 1). This is mainly due to tough economic conditions, which have created a situation in which consumers need to buy more products for less money and are therefore willing to sacrifice the associations of national brands for what they perceive are the same goods sold under a different name.10 Buying private label brands is no longer seen as “settling,” and in fact some lines of private label brands—such as retailer Target’s Archer Farms and Whole Foods Market Exclusive—are positioned as premium brands, named and packaged to resemble much more expensive products. 9

Sierra Mist was introduced in 1999. The name was chosen out of thousands of suggestions, based on consumer research. 10 Many private label products are in fact manufactured by the same facilities that produce famous brands and probably contain very similar (or even the same) ingredients.

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Coca-Cola, Chek Cola, or Rally Cola?

Private label brands are clearly growing and, in the case of soda names, retailers seem to have hit upon a simple and effective solution: borrow something from the name of the product being imitated and combine it with a word that either evokes the place of purchase, or some quality of the beverage. In most cases there is no attempt to trademark the new name: this is probably due to the cost of trademarking (several thousand dollars in the US), the short life span of store brands and perhaps even a desire to “fly under the radar” and not attract the attention of Coke or Pepsi’s legal team. There is also an undeniable element of fun to most of the Dr Pepper and Mountain Dew imitation names, a feeling that they are not to be taken very seriously. Here, unlike “pretend” premium brands like Archer Farms, these names (and their imitation packaging) proclaim that they are not premium products and they know it. They are light-hearted, sometimes silly, and consumers understand that the marketing department had a good time coming up with them—they would probably come up with similar names, given the same task. They are friendly, unpretentious and memorable. The market for private label brands seems to be expanding and, as long as the products they identify are of equivalent quality and cheaper than famous brands, consumers will consider them a viable alternative. While many retailers are moving to a store-wide private label brand, such as Walmart’s Great Value brand (covering hundreds of items from bread to light bulbs to frozen dinners), they may still consider sodas a special case because of the strong associations with specific famous brands like CocaCola, Dr Pepper and Mountain Dew. Given the public’s thirst for sweet, bubbly drinks, there is enough room for famous brands to co-exist alongside store brands—and probably room to grow.

References Best Global Brands. 2011. Interbrand Report. http://www.interbrand.com/Libraries/Branding_Studies/Best_Global_B rands_2011.sflb.ashx (accessed September 30, 2012). Brand loyalty and the impact of private label products. Deloitte Debates, July 30, 2010. http://www.deloitte.com/assets/Dcom-UnitedStates /Local%20Assets/Documents/us_consulting_BrandLoyaltyDebate_073 010.pdf (accessed September 30, 2012). New York Times. 1972. Dr. Pepper is suing coke on trademark. July 5. Poundstone, W. 1983. Big Secrets. New York: Quill/William Morrow.

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Richardson, G. 2008. Brand names before the industrial revolution. Working Paper 13920, NBER Working Paper Series. National Bureau of Economic Research, Cambridge, MA. Shirrell Kaswell, A. 2007. Coke vs. Pepsi: The Pioneers. Annals of Improbable Research 13 (1): 6-10. Sternberg, G.M. 1909. Reports of the President’s Homes Commission. Government Printing Office, Washington, DC.

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Appendix In 1909, the Reports of the President’s Homes Commission investigated cola products currently on the market in the US. They found that the following products contained both caffeine and extract of coca leaf: Afri Cola, The Afri Cola Co., Atlanta, Ga. Ala Cola, Ala Bottling Works, Bessemer, Ala. Cafe Coca, Athens Bottling Works, Athens, Ga. Carre Cola, E. Carre Co., Mobile, Ala. Celery Cola, The Celery Cola Co., Birmingham, Ala.; Dallas, Texas; 1DVKYLOOH7HQQDQG6W/RXLV0R &KDQ2OD/0&KDQQHOO1HZ2UOHDQV/D &KHUD&ROD8QLRQ%RWWOLQJ:RUNV&ROXPEXV*D &RFD%HWD7KH&RFD%HWD&R1HZ leisure time – active – passive Social activities Snacks at work

Italy

Spain

France

APPETITIVO

MIS DELICIAS

PETIT APPÉTIT

MINI MOTTA

MI RACIÓN

FAIT POUR MOI

BEBI RISO

BEBE

BABY MIEL

RINGO MATCH RELAX

ACTIF PAUSA

SPORT SOURIRE MA PAUSE FRUIT

SNACK FRIENDS

VIEJO AMIGO

COPAINS COPINES

LUNCHABLES

MERIENDALINDA

MON P’TIT CASSE CROUTE

Convenience-prod. Catering sector Naturalness Health awareness Origin of products

MARE PRONTO RISOTTERIA

COCINA PRACTICA EL ASADOR DEL REY

C’PRÊT CENTRALE RESTO

NATURA VIVA

NATURLINEA

LA BIO D’ICI

FITNESS

MÁS SANAS

SANTÉ & SAVEUR

ITAL NATURE

ESPANUT

L’ŒUF DE FRANCE

Linguistic analysis Locality This section focuses on the representation of locality on different linguistic levels of description. Therefore, elements of diatopic linguistic variation3 as well as certain toponyms, appellatives, pronouns and local deictics are used. Oesterreicher attempts a synopsis of the intensity of linguistic variation (diatopic, diastratic, diaphasic) in the three Romance languages (French, Italian and Spanish). He notes that the diatopic dimension in Italian is 3

For a depiction of diatopic variety dimensions in Italian, Spanish and French, see Dardano and Trifone (1985), Lepschy and Lepschy (1986), Berschin et al. (1995), Sokol (2007) and Oesterreicher (2008).

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highly pronounced, whereas French and Spanish are characterised by a heterogeneous use of diatopic elements (Oesterreicher 1995: 11). Accordingly, the following remarks focus on diatopic aspects in brand names of the Italian food market. By using regional language or dialectal elements, a local reference in the sense of an indication of the origin of the product can be established. Many expressions are considered as conveying local colour and therefore function as an identification mark of a certain region, e.g., Neapolitan sfizio (‘lust’) (Lepschy and Lepschy 1986: 45). Based on this noun, the brand names LE SFIZIOSE and SFIZIOLÌ were created.4 The Italian corpus includes the following elements that Zingarelli (1998) lists as dialectal or belonging to regional language: BECHÈR originates from beccaio, meaning ‘butcher’ in the Lombard-Venetian dialect. BUFFLÒ was formed on the basis of buffolo (‘buffalo’), which is a dialectal variant of bufalo. CASCINA D’ORO, CASCINA SAN CASSIANO and LE CASCINE DEL SOLE include cascina, a Southern term for ‘(dairy) farm.’ The noun cremeria in CREMERIA DEL LATTAIO and LA CREMERIA classifies as regional. The noun PAGNOTTELLE (‘bread roll’) comes from Romanesco. The name PUMMARO is an abbreviation of Neapolitan pummarola. Numerous Italian lexemes derive from dialectal or regional language, but have become supra-regionally known to the same extent as the respective objects they designate. This phenomenon can be observed primarily in gastronomic vocabulary (Bruni 1984: 82). Such nouns that are no longer perceived as having a regional origin are also used for the formation of brand names. Table 2. Brand names based on lexemes with diatopic origin Diatopic origin Piemontese Lombardo Emiliano-Lombardo Napoletano

Lexeme grissino risotto parmigiano, reggiano provola, provolone

Brand name GRISSINBON RISOTTERIA PETALI DI PARMA PROVOLETTI

Looking at the names of different types of baked goods from the Mulino Bianco company, various regional origins become obvious: BISSETTE DE EBREI (Veneto, Friuli), CANDELAUS (Sardinia), CRUMIRI (Piedmont, Valle d’Aosta), MOSTACCIUOLI DI NATALE (Campania), 4

In some cases, the regionalism is articulated only in a morpheme. The noun tegolo (‘brick’) that forms the basis of the brand name TEGOLINO is the Tuscan variation of the noun tegola (Zingarelli 1998: 1826). The creation TRE FORNARI includes fornaro, a regional variant of the noun fornaio (‘baker’) (Zingarelli 1998: 710).

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Tu y yo, Prendi e vai, Saveurs d’ici

NIZUDDI PASQUALI (Basilicata, Calabria), OSS DE MORD (Lombardy), SPITZBUBEN ALLA VANIGLIA (South Tyrol), STRACADENT (EmiliaRomagna, Tuscany), SUSPIRU DI MONICA (Sicily). DELICIAS DO SOUTO is a brand from Galicia. Regional linguistic

material is used in the following French brand names. In 1983, the name of the cider-producing company RAISON, founded by Louis Raison, was changed to LOÏC RAISON. Loïc is the Breton version of the first name Louis. LIMUNATA CARINA is of Corsican origin. LE FLAMMKUECHE DES COPAINS and SCHLUCK are brands from the Alsace. The brand name LA SARDANE, which is actually the name of a traditional Catalan dance, is used in France as a name for fruits and vegetables. Besides elements of diatopic language variation, brand names may include toponyms that can convey a concrete local reference to a region, city, village, river, mountain or valley. Locality can be expressed by the use of certain appellative and deictic elements to convey proximity in a broader sense, i.e., regionally and socially. The following table gives examples of local references at a semantic level: Table 3. Toponyms and proximity vocabulary Semantics Country name Other toponyms

Italy

Spain

ITAL NATURE

ESPANUT

France DOUCE FRANCE

BIODOLOMITI

PERLAS DEL GUADALQUIVIR

COCHON D’ACQUITAINE

Lexeme region

I SAPORI DELLE REGIONI

REGIOLIVA

L’ÉPICIER DE NOS RÉGIONS

Lexeme house

SUGOCASA

TUTORTI…YA COMO EN CASA

COMME A LA MAISON

Semantic field family Semantic field friends Local deixis

MAMA MARIA

LAS PATATAS DEL ABUELO

BONNE MAMAN

AMICI MIEI

LOS TRES AMIGOS

LES RECETTES DES COPINES

QUI PER TE

EL PAN HECHO AQUI

SAVEURS D’ICI

Moreover, the French combination of preposition and personal pronoun chez nous (‘at our place’) is a popular deictic means to convey the local origin of a product, e.g., in SECRETS DE CHEZ NOUS.

Interaction In the context of current socioeconomic conditions, not only do brand names convey the concepts of “regionalism” and “locality,” but through

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them consumers are directly addressed by syntactic as well as lexical means. From a syntactic perspective, the use of the imperative is a key method to address consumers. With regard to the communicative intention, Myers (1994: 47) states: Note that advertisers use commands, not because telling you to do something really makes you do what they say, but because it will create a personal effect, a sense of one person talking to another.

The imperative concerns mostly different classes of verbs, following the actual communicative situation and referring to the consumption of the product (Calderón 1991: 41). In this context, the command to enjoy is crucial and finds its lexical realisation in the forms assaporare (Ital.), disfrutar (Span.) and savourer (Fr.). However, Wahl (2011: 30) admits that the simulation of a personal contact by the use of the imperative bears the risk of this form being perceived as obtrusive by the recipient. The call for action can also be expressed with the infinitive or by exclamations. Besides the call for action, a brand name may include a direct request to the consumer as well as a direct product offer. Formulaic expressions such as greetings also direct address the recipient. The following examples of Italian, French and Spanish brand names show how the appellative function in the sense of contacting the consumer can be implemented syntactically. Table 4. Syntactic means of addressing the consumer Italy

Spain

France

Imperative Infinitive Exclamation Direct request/offer

ASSAPORA

DISFRUTA

PRENEZ DU JUS

ESSERE

CALENTAR Y LISTO

CŒUR A PRENDRE

GLUTEN STOP

S.O.S.

S.O.S. NATURE

WUOI?

SOLO PARA TI CARMENCITA

VOULEZ-VOUS

Formulaic expressions

BUONDÌ

BUENOS DÍAS

S’IL TE PLAIT

Consumers can be directly addressed by the use of personal pronouns in the first and second person singular/plural, which can occur in subject or object position. According to Latour (1996: 133f.), the choice of a particular brand can endorse the consumer’s personality. Consumers wish to identify with brands and to distinguish themselves from others. Solomon (1983: 320) confirms that products include social information upon which the consumer often relies to shape self-image and to maximise the quality of role performance.

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Table 5. Personal pronouns 1st pers. (sg.) 1st pers. (pl.) 2nd pers. (sg.) 2nd pers. (pl.)

Italy

Spain

TI VOGLIO

TU Y YO

France FAIT POUR MOI

PER NOI…? I...COTTI

NOSOTROS

TU IN CUCINA

TE CUIDA

“COMME POUR NOUS” 5 THÉ TOI…ET EMBRASSE MOI!

PRONTI PER VOI



JUST FOR VOUS

By means of possessives, an emotional tie between product and consumer can be generated. Possessives are either used pronominally and replace a noun, such as MIO (‘mine’) or NOSTRANELLE (nostrano, ‘ours’), or they accompany nouns as possessive adjectives. On the use of possessive adjectives in the context of current social developments, Calabrese (1989: 168f., my translation) states: The possessive adjective generates an emotional tie between producer and consumer, or binds a customer in eternal love to a product […]. In a depersonalised society that is increasingly lacking interpersonal relations, the product may even replace human beings and their emotions.

Perugini (1994: 607, my translation) confirms: “The adjective, particularly the possessive adjective, ties the producer to the consumer emotionally and makes a product that has been created for the masses become something personal.” The following table illustrates the use of possessive adjectives in Italian, Spanish and French brand names. Table 6. The use of possessives in brand names Possessives 1st pers. (sg.) 1st pers. (pl.) 2nd pers. (sg.) 2nd pers. (pl.)

Italy

Spain

France

BIO MIA

MIS DELICIAS

MA PAUSE FRUIT

NOSTROLIO

NUESTRO MAR

SAVEURS DE NOS FERMES

IL TUO CHEF

TUS TENTACIONES

SORS TES COUVERTS

IL VOSTRO PANE



SURPRENEZ VOS SENS

The use of existing brand names The names of brands have long been regarded as a matter of course and not much attention has been paid to them. However, in recent years brand awareness has grown. In fact, brands can be worth more than the production centres in which the brand products are manufactured. Brands can build customer loyalty and generate new assets (Bugdahl et al. 2000: 5 The name THÉ TOI … ET EMBRASSE MOI! (‘keep still and kiss me’) is a wordplay based on the quasi-homophony of tais (‘keep still’) and thé (‘tea’).

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398). The following equation is suggested by Latour (1992: 140): brand name = capital = success. In today’s globalised world of growing international competitive pressure, many companies make use of the existing brand capital and create new names based on existing company, assortment or line names. In derivations in Italian, Spanish and French, modifying suffixes can give a certain nuance to a noun or an adjective. This method can also be observed in the creation of brand names on the basis of existing names. The name DANITO, for example, was created for the Italian market by shortening the company name and adding a French diminutive suffix. At the same time, the diminutive suffix functions as a hint at the target group, as can be assumed from the following product description: “DANITO is a healthy product which makes an important and valuable contribution to children’s diet” (www.danone.it, my translation). The method of composition is also used in varied forms to create new brand names based on existing company, assortment or line names. A company name may also be integrated in a nominal phrase, e.g., LE MANIE DIE EHRMANN (Ital. la mania ‘obsession’). Moreover, new names may be formed by shortening existing brand names. The aim of all shortening methods is to counteract the tendency towards longer and more confusing names with short correlates. A name can be shortened by deleting some elements in the middle, e.g., In GALBANI > GALBI. Contaminations can be created, in which at least one of the constituents involved is shortened to build a compound (e.g., BIRAGHI > IL BIRALUNGO). Likewise, both constituents can be shortened, e.g., MONELLO > MON(INI) + (nov)ello. In many cases the (shortened) constituents of a brand name cannot be clearly separated, since the single graphemes or grapheme sequences overlap at the segmentation border, e.g., BISCOLUSSI > bisco(tto) + COLUSSI or BUITOST > BUITO(NI) + tost. The following table gives an overview of the different types of word formation with examples from Italian, Spanish and French: Table 7. Creation of brand names on the basis of existing names Formation type Affixation

Italy

Spain

France

BIRAGHINI (BIRAGHI)

DANONINO (DANONE)

DANETTE (DANONE)

Proper composition Phrases

ZOO-DORIA

KINDER BUENO

SECRET DE MAILLE

LE MANIE DI EHRMANN

MI PRIMER DANONE

MON PREMIER NESQUIK

Shortenings

DIALBRODO (DIALCOS)

NATURNES (NESTLÉ)

NESCAFÉ (NESTLÉ)

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Summary Brand names do not only have economic and legal relevance, they are also an extremely interesting research field for linguists. This analysis has shown that the concepts of “regionalism” and “locality” play an important role in the communication field of advertising and that they can be found on different linguistic levels in Italian, Spanish and French brand names in the food industry. This holds for the offer to identify and interact that brand names make. In the context of globalised markets lacking interpersonal relationships between producer and consumer, certain morphosyntactic and lexical structures can generate a tie between the partners in the market. It was also demonstrated that the entire spectrum of word formation types is used when it comes to taking advantage of the brand value of an established name and creating new product, line or assortment names. In examining brand names, various new fields of research have opened up. It would be interesting, for example, to look at how locality is conveyed by examining different product types. With regard to syntactical and lexical methods of addressing customers, a customer survey could provide information about whether recipients actually feel they are personally addressed when these methods are used. Likewise, an impact analysis could give information about how the use of an existing name within a new one makes it easier for customers to memorise the new name, and whether it would increase their willingness to purchase the product and—in consequence—contribute to the success of the latter.

References Becker, T., and E. Benner. 2000. Zur Problematik der Herkunftsangabe im regionalen Marketing (Hohenheimer Agrarökonomische Arbeitsberichte Nr. 1). Institut für Agrarpolitik und Landwirtschaftliche Marktlehre der Universität Hohenheim. Bruni, F. 1984. L’Italiano. Elementi di storia della lingua e della cultura. Turin: Unione Tipografico-Editrice Torinese. Bugdahl, V. B., and B. Bugdahl. 2000. Beabsichtigter Hör- oder Schreibfehler. Markennamen finden nach dem Prinzip Paronomasie. MarkenR—Zeitschrift für deutsches, europäisches und internationales Markenrecht 11-12: 398-401. Bußmann, H. 2002. Lexikon der Sprachwissenschaft, 2nd edition. Stuttgart: Kröner Verlag.

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Calabrese, O. 1989. Il marinismo in serie. Una lingua tra neo-arcaismo e paleo-neologismo. In Una lingua in vendita. L’italiano della pubblicità, A. Chiantera (ed.), 159-178. Rom: La Nuova Italia Scientifica. Calderón, M. 1993. Der Imperativ in spanischen Werbespots. In Grammatikographie der romanischen Sprachen. Akten der gleichnamigen Sektion des Bamberger Romanistentages (23.-29.9.1991), C. Schmitt (ed.), 37-59. Bonn: Romanistischer Verlag. CMA. 1992. Kompendium für Lebensmittel-Marketing. EG-Umfeld, Rahmenbedingungen, Verbrauchereinstellungen und Verbraucherverhalten, Trends. Hamburg: Behr’s Verlag. Dardano, M., and P. Trifone. 1985. La lingua italiana. Bologna: Zanichelli. Esch, F.-R., and T. Langner. 2001. Branding als Grundlage zum Markenaufbau. In Moderne Markenführung. Grundlagen, innovative Ansätze, praktische Umsetzungen, 3rd edition, F.-R. Esch (ed.), 437-450. Wiesbaden: Gabler Verlag. Gabriel, K. 2003. Produktonomastik. Studien zur Wortgebildetheit, Typologie und Funktionalität italienischer Produktnamen. Frankfurt a.M. et al.: Peter Lang. Geigenmüller, A. 2003. Regionale Marken und Konsumentenverhalten. Konsequenzen für die Markenführung. Wiesbaden: Deutscher Universitäts-Verlag. Gloor, M. 1970. Werbung für Nahrungs- und Genussmittel. In Handbuch der Werbung mit programmierten Fragen und praktischen Beispielen von Werbefeldzügen, K. C. Behrens (ed.), 815-826. Wiesbaden: Gabler Verlag. Kotler, P., and F. Bliemel. 2001. Marketing-Management. Analyse, Planung und Verwirklichung, 10th edition. Stuttgart: SchäfferPoeschel Verlag. Kroeber-Riel, W., and F.-R. Esch. 2000. Strategie und Technik der Werbung. Verhaltenswissenschaftliche Ansätze, 5th edition. Stuttgart et al.: Verlag W. Kohlhammer. Langner, T. 2003. Integriertes Branding. Baupläne zur Gestaltung erfolgreicher Marken. Wiesbaden: Deutscher Universitäts-Verlag. Latour, S. 1996. Namen machen Marken. Handbuch zur Entwicklung von Firmen- und Produktnamen. Frankfurt am Main/New York: Campus Verlag. —. 1992. Der treffende Name: Ein strategischer Faktor für den internationalen Erfolg. Markenartikel 54 (4): 140-145. Leitow, D. 2005. Produktherkunft und Preis als Einflussfaktoren auf die Kaufentscheidung—Eine experimentelle und einstellungstheoretisch basierte Untersuchung des Konsumentenverhaltens bei regionalen

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Lebensmitteln. PhD diss., Humboldt-University of Berlin. Lepschy, A., and G. Lepschy. 1986. Die italienische Sprache. Tübingen: Francke Verlag. Lötscher, A. 1992. Von Ajax bis Xerox. Ein Lexikon der Produktenamen, 2nd edition. Düsseldorf, Zürich: Artemis und Winkler Verlag. Müller, W. G. 1997. Interkulturelle Werbung. Heidelberg: Physica-Verlag. Myers, G. 1994. Words in Ads. London: Hodder Arnold. Oesterreicher, W. 2008. Das Französische als romanische Sprache. In Handbuch Französisch. Sprache Literatur Kultur Gesellschaft, 2nd edition, I. Kolboom, T. Kotschi and E. Reichel (eds.), 19-25. Berlin: Erich Schmidt Verlag. —. 1995. Die Architektur romanischer Sprachen im Vergleich. Eine Programm-Skizze. In Konvergenz und Divergenz in den romanischen Sprachen. Romanistisches Kolloquium VIII, W. Dahmen, G. Holtus, J. Kramer, M. Metzeltin, W. Schweickard and O. Winkelmann (eds.), 321. Tübingen: Gunter Narr Verlag. Perugini, M. 1994. La lingua della pubblicità. In Storia della lingua italiana (vol. 2, Scritto e Parlato), L. Serianni and P. Trifone (eds.), 599-615. Turin: Einaudi. Platen, C. 1997. «Ökonymie». Zur Produktnamen-Linguistik im Europäischen Binnenmarkt. Tübingen: Max Niemeyer Verlag. Sokol, M. 2007. Französische Sprachwissenschaft, 2nd edition. Tübingen: Gunter Narr Verlag. Solomon, M.R. 1983. The Role of Products as Social Stimuli. A Symbolic Interactionism Perspective. Journal of Consumer Research 10: 319329. Sprengel, R. 1990. Europa 93—Sind vorhandene Markennamen international einsetzbar? Markenartikel 9: 410-413. Strecker, O., J. Reichert and P. Pottebaum. 1990. Marketing für Lebensmittel. Grundlagen und praktische Entscheidungshilfen. Frankfurt a. M.: DLG-Verlag. Wahl, S. 2011. Entdecken Sie…! Die Geschichte des Imperativs in der deutschen, englischen und spanischen Werbung. In Evolution der Informationsgesellschaft. Markenkommunikation im Spannungsfeld der neuen Medien, C. Steinmann (ed.), 25-50. Wiesbaden: Verlag für Sozialwissenschaften. Zilg, A. 2006. Markennamen im italienischen Lebensmittelmarkt. Wilhelmsfeld: Gottfried Egert Verlag. Zingarelli, N. 1998. Lo Zingarelli. Vocabolario della lingua italiana. Bologna: Zanichelli Editore.

SECTION TWO: CODE NAMES (OF COLLABORATORS IN SECRET SERVICE ORGANISATIONS)

COVER NAMES OF SECURITATE COLLABORATORS WOLFGANG DAHMEN AND JOHANNES KRAMER

In recent years, files originating from the former Romanian secret police Securitate have begun to appear in Romania. These files have uncovered how informants spied on their fellow citizens. In the process, cover names were used. The main intention was to conceal the true identity of so-called informal collaborators. This chapter relies on a corpus of about two hundred supporting documents in order to give an initial overview of the types of Romanian cover names used by Securitate informants. It also compares these choices to cover names used by the former East-German Ministry of State Security, the Staatssicherheit or Stasi. In September 2010, the German public received unsettling news about Herta Müller, who had been awarded the Nobel Prize for literature a year earlier. The prize had focused on the novel Atemschaukel, which in many parts had been written in collaboration with Oskar Pastior, an equally achieved writer who had accepted a number of prizes and, like Müller, was born in Romania. As it turned out, Herta Müller’s intimate friend had been a secret informant (“informeller Mitarbeiter,” “IM” or “informator”) to the Romanian secret police Securitate for years. As a consequence, he had spied on German-language authors in Romania. The news provoked discussions about the activities of the Romanian domestic secret services. These discussions have not subsided to this day. Parallels were drawn between this case and the sinister activities of the Ministry of State Security in the German Democratic Republic, still under scrutiny and inquiry in today’s reunified Germany. Typically, the secret police gave cover names to their informants as soon as they entered active service. It was under these names that informants reported to their commanding officers. The cover names were also used in reports and to identify recipients of payments. Needless to say, the system of cover names was designed to conceal the true identity of the informant. Therefore, when these acts of espionage among citizens are illuminated and reconstructed,

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one of the pressing problems is to find out who was behind a given cover name.1 For example, it is an established fact today that above-mentioned writer Oskar Pastior carried the cover name Stein Otto. Other cover names from the files in question still cannot be connected to the person they refer to. In a number of cases, this connection has become a matter of legal dispute; however, as the following chapter addresses the issue from the point of view of onomastics, the equation “cover name/real name” is an exception. In most cases, nevertheless, we will only refer to and analyse the cover names alone. When dealing with cover names in the communist sphere, one must bear in mind that cover and code names have a long-standing tradition in the history of the communist movement. This tradition arose from the fact that the protagonists of the pre-revolutionary struggle suffered constant persecution by police forces and were forced to form an underground network. The leading Russian or Soviet Bolsheviks, such as Lenin, Stalin, Trotsky and Molotov might serve as examples. Wladimir Iljitsch Uljanow was probably thinking of the river Lena when he chose Lenin, pointing to his time as a revolutionary exiled in Siberia. However, he did use other cover names such as Meyer or Dr. Jordanow, which also appeared on his passports. Stalin, whose real name was Iossif Wissarionowitsch Dschugaschwili, initially called himself Koba, “inspired by the hero from Alexander Kasbegi’s novel The Patricide, a cunning and vengeful bandit” (Montefiore 2006: 37-38). Possibly echoing the sound of the name Lenin, he eventually opted for Stalin for its tough-sounding association with steel. Trotsky, Leib Bronstein in real life, was possibly trying to jettison his Jewish-sounding name when he chose the name of his chief prison guard in Odessa. Finally, Molotov, once Vjatschelaw Michailowitsch Skrjabin, used the Russian appellative ‘hammer’ (ɦɨɥɨɬ). The circles of emigrants relied heavily on cover names to camouflage their activities and protect themselves from persecution. The same is true of the beginnings of the Communist Party in Romania, even though names lack the familiar ring of the famous Soviets. One of the reasons for this lies in the fact that prior to the Second World War, there was no major communist movement in Romania. When communist parties established themselves in Eastern Europe, as well as in eastern parts of Central and Southern Europe, socialist states started building secret police apparatuses aiming to spy on true or imagined enemies of the regime within the country’s borders. We will set aside the details here. Following the historical events of 1989 and the collapse of communist rule, the activities of these organisations have come 1

Official Romanian documents use the term “nume conspirativ de colaborare.”

408

Cover Names of Securitate Collaborators

under varying degrees of scrutiny in the affected states. The general intention was to give those sections of the population that had been spied upon the opportunity to access files and find out who disclosed what about their personal lives and to which organ of the state. The Federal Republic of Germany was the first country to set up such an authority (“Bundesbeauftragter für die Unterlagen des Staatssicherheitsdienstes der ehemaligen Deutschen Demokratischen Republik,” meaning ‘The Federal authority for documents of the Ministry of State Security of the former German Democratic Republic’). Common usage associated the agency with the name of its acting director: Gauck-Behörde, Birthler-Behörde and, most recently, Jahn-Behörde. This agency came to serve as a model to other countries, which instituted similar government bodies, such as Romania’s Consiliul naĠional pentru Studierea Arhivelor SecurităĠii (C.N.S.A.S.) [The National Council for the Study of the Securitate Archives]. Today, these agencies are working to shed light on the activities of the respective national state security organisations and have formed the network European Network of Official Authorities in Charge of the SecretPolice Files, which held its yearly convention in Bucharest in July 2011. It is one of the specificities of C.N.S.A.S. that a wider circle of people (not only directly affected citizens, but also journalists or researchers) than in Germany be granted access to files. Names of former Securitate employees, including related sentences from a court of law verifying this information, are accessible to everybody on the Internet.2 Concerning the onomastic evaluation of this phenomenon, it is important to focus our attention on name-giving. Referring to the German Democratic Republic, Kühn (1995: 515) described the process in the following manner: Cover names are given in an act of naming, similar to the giving of a first name, only that as opposed to baptism, the bearer gets to choose a name, or accepts the name s/he is given. The occasion is provided by […] a declaration of commitment, which in many cases had to be presented in handwriting. The cover name was thus established during such an encounter and it marked the beginning of the conspiracy, as all future communications (oral or written) were encoded by means of its use.3

Romanian Securitate would most likely have followed the same procedure. It is an important factor that the informant usually gets to choose their cover name, thus joining the ranks of a new institution, similar to monks who choose a new name when entering a cloister, 2 3

The official website of C.N.S.A.S. offers a list of 150 informal collaborators. The following examples in German are taken from Kühn (1995).

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renouncing their old one. There is yet another parallel similarity, namely to codes in today’s computerised communication. These are also known to only two persons or institutions. There is often a connection between the cover name and the person using it, invisible to outsiders, but in many cases of great importance to the person involved (another individual, a nice-sounding name, a place name, the designation of a certain profession etc.). This also explains why it is usually difficult to interpret the motivation for choosing a specific cover name in retrospect. The following sections will look at a corpus of cover names for Romanian Securitate collaborators, put together from the C.N.S.A.S. sources available on the Internet, newspaper articles and academic publications. Presently, the corpus consists of two hundred supporting documents, but is to be enlarged in the future. Kühn’s work on cover names used by the Stasi will provide a comparison, highlighting common features of and differences in name-giving by the GDR State Security and Romanian Securitate. This comparison between lists of cover names from the GDR and Romania gives the initial impression that the German names were more imaginative, as it were, and showed a wider variety. A rough calculation shows that about 50% of the Romanian corpus are first names, about 25% last names, 15% first and last names (or vice versa), and only 10% are appellatives of different sorts. Needless to say, these different categories are not easily kept apart in Romanian, where many first names may also appear unchanged as last names, appellatives serve as first and last names, and names from minority languages in Romania, most notably Hungarian and German, create special problems. It is very remarkable, however, that among the names clearly belonging to one category there are very few female names, less than 10%, which has to do with patterns of acceptance of cover names. Men rarely adopt a female cover name. There is one male informant who chose the cover name Isabelle or Izabella, and another who called himself Cocoú Vera. Of course, regular Romanian first names such as Andrei, Radu, Dorin, Dinu, Vasile, Adrian, Victoria, Aurora and Simona are unproblematic. We often find diminutives or nicknames such as Nicu, DănuĠ, Toto, Titi, Gogu, Sile, Didi and Marinică. Marin, Sorin and Stanciu are cases in which it is hard to decide whether they are used as first or family names. Romanian often uses the suffix –escu to mark family names. This is often attached to first names, resulting in the following examples in our corpus of names: Andreescu, Mihăilescu, Petrescu, Grigorescu, Simionescu, Rădulescu etc. Another, less frequent name suffix is –eanu, which may be attached to appellatives, but is often attached to place names to designate a

410

Cover Names of Securitate Collaborators

person’s origins in a given geographical region. These also appear in our corpus, as in Munteanu or Berneanu. There are also instances of switching suffixes, as in the case of one informant who reported in as Bernescu and Berneanu. “Complete” names were popular among informants, with interchangeable positions of first and last names. This might be linked to an old tradition in the Austro-Hungarian Empire, where last names often preceded the first, as in Stein Otto. Cases in which the family name follows the first name are Mircea Moga, Mihai Lupan, Toma Mihăilă or Marcel Popa; the inversion “family name-first name” is somewhat less frequent: Dăscălescu Ion, Popescu Ion, Munteanu Ioan, Simionescu Florin. While Stasi collaborators with an academic education usually chose a cover name indicating a doctoral degree (Dr. Müller, Dr. Ludwig, Dr. Pfeiffer), Romanian cover names do not include university degrees. Stasi cover names often echo the names of highly achieved persons or celebrities (Albert Schweitzer, Karl May, Dr. Heisenberg, Peter Maffay). This phenomenon is rare in Securitate cover names. However, we do find Dragoú, the first voivode of Moldavia in the fourteenth century, Matei Basarab, first count of Wallachia in the mid-seventeenth century, and Mircea Lucescu, a former national soccer player and trainer. When it comes to appellatives serving as cover names, it is hard in many cases to tell whether it may not be a family name after all, or a nickname. This applies to forms such as Puiu ‘chicklet,’ Cocoú ‘rooster’ and Cucu ‘cuckoo.’ Cases such as Chinezu, which in the Banat region also serves as a family name (becoming Cneaz, or Knese in German), or Pîrcălab ‘burgrave,’ are not univocal. Protector is a clear case, though a somewhat cynical one given the context. The cover name Romarta is an exception, given the fact that it refers to a chain of department stores by the same name. Nicolae Mihai Corneanu, Archbishop of Timiúoara and Metropolitan Bishop of Banat, was a special case that received a lot of attention from the Romanian and international media. During the political changes of 1989, he admitted to having collaborated with Securitate for decades. He had used a number of cover names (Munteanu, Munteanu Ioan, Popa Vasile, Popescu Io(a)n), but his real name as well. It is especially noteworthy that in his reports, being a high representative of the Church, he wrote about himself in the third person singular. Remarkably, especially in Transylvania, members of the Hungarian and German minority also served as informants for Securitate. Some, though not all, used Hungarian and German cover names. There are no cases the other way around. No Romanian who chose a German or

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Hungarian cover name was found. Hungarian and German cover names were formed along the same rules as the Romanian ones. In the category of first and family names, we find Stein Otto (as it was previously mentioned), Mayer, Walter, Ludwig Leopold, Nagy/Nogy, Lajos Baroti and Varnai Zoltan. Spelling sometimes alternates between Hungarian and Romanian forms, with Nagy/Nogy as a clear example. At times, names are completely adapted to Romanian spelling, as in Chiú Teodor. One Hungarian informant used both the Hungarian spelling Katona and the Romanian form Catona. The word is an appellative for ‘soldier,’ but may also appear as a family name. In Romania, the use of cover names became so common that informants not only chose names for themselves, but also for the individuals they were observing. Thus it seems appropriate to introduce the notion of “victims’ names.” The names of some of the authors involved in the circle of literary criticism Aktionsgruppe Banat became very well known in Germany, especially Nobel Prize winner Herta Müller as its most prominent member, who was referred to as Cristina (Müller 2009). Her husband at the time, Richard Wagner, was Ziaristul ‘the journalist,’ and Anton Sterbling was Pletosul ‘the long-haired man,’ or Stoian, a Romanian first name. It is one of the specific characteristics of the Romanian system of informants that a number of persons were perpetrators and victims at the same time. This phenomenon had consequences for the system of cover names, since one person could very well carry one cover name as the observer and a second cover name as the observed. This is the case with an informant who signed his reports Dăscălescu Ion, but who simultaneously was the object of spy-operations and was called Barbu. From the perspective of onomastics, of course, there is a fundamental difference between a cover name and a victim’s name, since the victim did not choose or know about the name that was used to refer to them. This also explains why names designating certain professions (such as ‘journalist’) or physical attributes (such as ‘the longhaired’ or ‘the bearded’) appear here. This chapter will close with another brief comparison of Stasi and Securitate cover names. The basic formative types (first name, family name, appellatives) are more or less identical. However, the Romanian corpus does not display specific semantic criteria of categorisation, or shows them only very weakly. There are no place names or names for geographical regions, mountains and rivers (as in the cover names Dresden, Harz, Elbe), flower or tree names (Edelweiss, Fichte), professions (Stahlbauer, Pädagoge), indirect indications of profession (Steiger, Kompass), names indicating social prestige (Senator, Sultan) or

412

Cover Names of Securitate Collaborators

automobile brands (Trabant, Wartburg). Closer scrutiny will not only reveal a number of parallels, but also many differences between these systems in Romania and the German Democratic Republic. Therefore, further research into the repertoire of cover names in former communist countries, especially of the Soviet Union, seems highly promising. However, one does encounter the problem that many of these countries have not yet fully come to terms with this historical epoch.

References Kühn, I. 1995. Decknamen. Zur Pragmatik von inoffiziellen Personenbenennungen. In Namenforschung. Ein internationales Handbuch zur Onomastik. E. Eichler et al. (eds.), 1, 515-520. Berlin/New York: de Gruyter. Montefiore, S.S. 2006. Stalin. Am Hof des roten Zaren. Frankfurt/M.: S. Fischer. Müller, H. 2009. Cristina und ihre Attrappe oder Was (nicht) in den Akten der Securitate steht. Göttingen: Wallstein.

ASPECTS OF NAMING AND SOCIOLINGUISTIC BEHAVIOUR IN CODE NAMES GEORGETA RUS Preliminary aspects and basic corpus The idea of espionage/conspiracy system/conspiracy1 is a current topic that generates much interest and many passionate discussions due to its founding principles that transgress epochs, governments and mentalities. Regardless of the political regime,2 any conspiracy system is firstly based on the dissimulation of identity. This is an essential element in the study of behaviour and the selection of information as regards both the partisans and the enemies of the regime has the purpose of discovering and neutralising possible protests. The starting point of the sociolinguistic analysis in this chapter is marked by the code names given to the collaborators of the Securitate3 and the investigated individuals. Based on the idea of secret, hidden, illegal and clandestine, the onomastic status of this anthroponymic subcategory can help one decode the functionality of the names in question at a certain point in Romanian history. The desire to diachronically integrate the code-naming phenomenon in Romanian onomastics justifies this attempt. This research deals with Romanian communist space (1921-1989) and focuses on establishing both a direction in the matter of giving a code name and the criteria that are found at its basis. This is also an attempt to identify the changes of the onomastic paradigm promoted by the Romanian 1

According to DEX online, conspirativitatea (‘conspiracy’) is a person’s or an organisation’s activity of maintaining secrecy in relation to a political action that is considered illegal by the authorities; a system of illegal work methods, used in promoting a political and ideological ideal by a social group, an organisation, an outlaw party. 2 As Lenin said, “conspiracy […] is a must in any Bolshevik organisation, and ‘the secret of conspiracy, as it is established in its set of rules, is that of granting the party the possibility to organise, agitate and propagandise […].’” (apud Vaksberg 1998: 177-178). 3 The Securitate is the control and espionage organisation of the Romanian communist regime.

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communist regime. Therefore, this study aims at the identification of code names given especially to intellectuals (writers) and the informants mentioned in surveillance records. The study of the Securitate archives made this possible. Therefore, the corpus was consolidated during research at the C.N.S.A.S.4 archives, where many informative records containing files on intellectuals that had been surveilled by the Securitate5 were studied. The authentic documents play their part as accurate describers of the historical period, on the one hand, and of the human reasoning involved in the acquisition of information, on the other. A priori tightly connected to cryptonyms and pseudonyms, code names benefit, in the collective mentality, from a practical approach where imagination and mystery have, without a doubt, a priority role. The popular belief regarding these names is strongly connected to elements of fantasy due to their almost occult character, and since without a prior initiation (only for the chosen ones) the motivation for certain name choices or even their existence remains unknown. One of the reasons behind these beliefs is the mystery that has surrounded the field of espionage/counterespionage and its laws since ancient times: its inaccessibility to the uninitiated gives this field a distinct status as regards name-giving. The over-motivation generally given to this type of referring element is, however, conditioned by the social, political and generational context to which it belongs, and the direct consequence of this phenomenon is the closeness to fictional names. Having a primary function6 that differentiates them from cryptonyms, code names vary according to political context, internal factors (mentality, personal culture) and external factors (affiliation to a political direction). This enables an analysis focused on a geographical space confined by natural boundaries. In the case of communist Romania, the concept of the code name can be defined firstly according to its bearer:

4

Consiliul National pentru Studierea Arhivelor Securitatii [The National Council for the Study of the Securitate Archives] is an institution whose purpose is to make available to Romanian citizens the records and documents regarding the surveillance activity of the former Securitate up to the Revolution of December 22, 1989. The Securitate was the name given to the Romanian secret services. 5 Because Romanian legislation forbids the revealing of identity by a third party, this study analyses only code names in relation to either the real first names or surnames, but without giving the real full name. 6 In this context, code names have negative connotations that are connected to their purpose and use.

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(1) a Romanian communist from the time of absolute servitude to Moscow (1921-1957). (2) an information officer, member of the army, police or espionage agencies who was specialised in gathering, correlating and analysing information and who was in charge of an informative service. (3) a collaborator, an informant7 (who could be main, special or secondary) or a source; they were meant to build informative networks. (4) a person surveilled for the purpose of having their activities verified as to acquire information and to determine whether they were dissenting against the regime. (5) a house where meetings and discussions took place with the surveilled people or between the liaison agents and the informants. Of these categories, this research deals with code names given to surveilled people and informants/sources, which can be found in the informative surveillance records (I.S.R.) kept by the Securitate. The records were compiled for people that had political priors or were suspected as being against the regime or instigating against it. Consisting mostly of informative notes and reports, the I.S.R. help reconstruct the personal history of the individual surveilled at a certain moment in their life or over a longer period of time. The records contained biographical elements, preliminary informative materials, results of the searches done in the absence of the person in question, plans for how to obtain necessary information, names of different informants or sources—without revealing their true identity and, most notably, the code name given to the surveilled individual—which is also written on the cover of the file.8

Methods and criteria of name-giving: Targeted categories The process of giving a code name to the collaborators of the Securitate is the first official stage of joining the ranks of the party. Thus, the “baptism” has a double meaning: (1) to recognise one’s affiliation to the regime

7

Relying on a Securitate report from 1988, Ana Blandiana relates in a conversation that the informants came to be more numerous than those surveilled. There were 1,997 sources in the cultural sphere (apud Cubleúan 2010: 17). 8 The real name and the rest of the biographical information are registered in the records, but for confidentiality reasons only the name of the file, the date when surveillance began, the code name between inverted commas and the word “classified” were written on the cover.

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(2) to indicate the social status change, a consequence of the modification of the name registered in the civil registry and the acquirement of a certain degree of influence and power. In the communist system, names vary according to political context. Different stages are coordinated in concurrence with the situation the party was in. For example, there are great differences among the many names given to an activist (which was common while the party was outlawed) and the double secrecy of the real name (achieved especially by using numbers that correspond to each code name), as well as in the training level of the agent responsible with the naming, the area in which the naming takes place and the importance of the individual to be named. Therefore, Serviciul Special de InformaĠii [The Special Information Service] (up to 1951) had only undercover personnel, regardless of their position. All employees had false identities and, implicitly, code names. In a “Raport privind unele aspecte de organizare ale SSI-ului” [Report regarding some organisation aspects of the SSI], written in 1967 by Major Zeides Emanoil, from the General Directorate for External Information, the author stated that: Each employee of the SSI would receive upon hiring a code name used throughout his employment. The real name was only known to the Personnel Directorate, the head of the Directorate or Service where he worked. The code name was used on every occasion: when signing papers, when signing for items they received, in relationships with co-workers, in work relationships etc. (C.N.S.A.S. Archives b)

The name was usually given at random by an officer or an operative upon recruitment. The importance of anonymity and the conspiracy most of the times surpassed the motivation for anthroponymic choices. Another procedure, marked by temporality as regards code names, is short-term naming. The Fifth Congress of the Communist Party (December 1931) that took place somewhere around Moscow was an opportunity to give special names for the duration of the congress, even though many participants already had one or more code names (Diac 20059). The so-called “names for festive occasions” were an ordinary 9 “Therefore, when in the documents issued by this congress the name Aurel is encountered, we must think that the one who spoke was in fact Imre Aladar, one of the five communist representatives in the 1931 parliament, invalidated by the plenum of the Chamber. Zoe was not the character from Caragiale’s comedy, but Ecaterina Arbore Ralli, a doctor and, for a while, Minister of Health in Soviet Ukraine, and Smaranda, according to congress biographical data and other sources, is identified as being Vanda Nicolski. Alexandru Iliescu had the name of Vasilescu

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practice that aimed at particularising an important event in the history of the party. Considering the fact that a person could be known by more than one name throughout their activity as an informant, the formal aspect of the name was supposed to provide information regarding when and where it was used. This was meant to facilitate the reconstruction of a collaborator’s “professional” journey, referring to their activity in various regions, and also to differentiate between records on Romanian or foreign citizens. In general, this type of information was stored in card indices. The same pluri-referential tendency is also an attribute for the code names given to intellectuals (especially those from the literary world10). However, the main difference is the status of the name changes, and therefore nicknames and bynames occur. They are focused on a moral or physical feature and “borrow” its meaning. Here are a few analysed examples of writers known in the reports under the names of: - Bigamul (‘the bigamist’)/DD/Dinu/Dandu (the name is a calque of the real name); through the large degree of expressivity, bynames such as Bigamul have, at the same time, the role of assimilating data on a possible behaviour and of acting on the linguistic mindset of those involved in the surveillance (helping them identify him more easily), by differentiating the code name from the standard, classic names used for most of the investigated people. - Bărbosul (‘the bearded man”)/Grama Mihai/Gige/Gom; the multitude of names built with the help of bynames and anthroponyms shows the recurrence of the letter “G,” which transfers a part of the real structure. The byname is profoundly subjectified and this means that the individual’s importance allows for some distancing from traditional onomastic norms. - Lungeanu Gelu; characterised by transparency, the code name keeps some formal elements that refer to the individual’s identity, among which is the official structure “surname + first name.” This allows for and simplifies the association with the real name. - Severineanu; the code name can be a surname or a byname. In this case, the term does not fulfil its formal-referential function, as it does not refer to a real identifying aspect. - Nica Dan, Orban/O, Traian.

at the congress—the poet-on-duty was Dumitru Grofu, who later became a victim of the Stalinist trials” (Diac 2005). 10 Only the writer’s code name shall be mentioned here in order to not reveal personal information.

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The giving of code names to intellectuals—that are thus significantly more motivated than those for common people—is based on eclecticism, an aspect that is specific to the whole regime. Motivated in most cases, the naming, as a responsibility of the investigative officers, also reflects their level of professional training. Formal clues such as calques of the real name, abbreviations and byname/nickname designations are observed in this process and thus a relationship between reality and code is created. As regards the naming of the general population, an important point was the attempt to recruit young university students or men while they are performing their compulsory military service. The proposition to become a collaborator of the Securitate always meant having a code name that follows the standard anthroponymic norms also used by the population. In this respect, youngsters were given either a surname or a first name that showed formal simplicity, followed a classic, conventional structure and had to be as impersonal as possible: Popescu, Mihai, Ion, Ionescu, George, Victor etc.

Name changing The dissimulation of identity inevitably required the adoption of a borrowed name that had to give its owner a status or a quality. At the beginning of the Communist Party (1921), some communists had their names changed for various reasons. This process included two essential methods: (1) the inclusion of native elements in foreign names that had a different sonority than the Romanian/Russian ones: Teohari Georgescu; Gheorghe Apostol; Lothar Rădăceanu; Liouba Kiúinevschi; Petre Borilă; Alexandru Moghioroú; Walter Roman; Gheorghe Stoica; Nina/Renée Annie; ùtefan Voicu etc.; (2) the resemblance to real names, either first names or surnames: Ana/Hannah11; Iosif/Ioska; Leonte/Lev; Luca/Lukacs; Brucan/Brukner; Botnăraú/Botnarenko; Miron/Mehr; Sălăjan/Szilágyi; Gheorghe/Ghiuri; Leonid/Leon; Maxim/Maximilian; Pintilie/Pantelei called Pantiuúa (hypocoristic); Dumitru/Dimităr; Coliu/Kolev; VinĠe/Vincze; Ion/János; Mihai/Miúa, Misha; Marcel/Mark etc. The naturalisation of names is also a criterion used in the process of giving code names to the collaborators of the Securitate, as these names were most of the times chosen in accordance with the first letter of the real 11 The first word is the changed code name and the second is one of the real names (i.e., first name or family name).

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first name, or they were translated. The real first name was sometimes merely replaced by a surname, for instance Mira instead of Mircea, Stoian instead of Stoica, Dinu instead of Dan, Ionescu instead of Gheorghe, Geta instead of Ana etc. At the same time, the naming of the collaborators of the Securitate is structured according to various criteria, and different naming criteria are noticed in concurrence with the category of the surveilled person. As this study deals with surveillance records and therefore with the names of the sources involved, it is essential to mention that the sources had to have superior training in order to obtain information without the writer’s knowledge, otherwise the surveillance was destined to fail. The highly culturally trained officers, usually university graduates who had knowledge of literature, philosophy and art, were in charge of the surveillance. An illustrative example is the conspiring informants involved in the surveillance of Romanian writers, who were given names that had Romanian or foreign etymologies. There are, therefore, the cases of the author Stephani, a collaborator of the Securitate, with the code names Mircea Moga and Marin; Kittner named Leopold Ludwig, Lalu, Karol or Karol Andrei (Totok 2011). Maintaining the initial letter in a person’s several code names was one of the principles of the regime’s code-naming system. As concerns the officers of the Securitate, the same impersonal naming tendency is followed—Gheorghe Maxim, Silviu, Georgescu; Gheorghe Pintilie nicknamed PantiuЮa. While the potential informant had “to be a conspiratorial element of absolute discretion” (C.N.S.A.S. 2007: 167), the notes regarding his monitoring and information acquisition activity include these linguistic structures: “the source believes,” “the source knows,” “according to the source, it was normal that […],” “[…] (and the source agrees with him), expresses his suspicion as regards […],” “the source informs you that […],” “the personal source; trustworthy person,” “the source (also) informs us that,” “I believe his activity […] involved only […]” etc. As for informants’ designations, “code names, especially those used in the informative network of the Military Counter-information Directorate, were often down right hilarious and illustrative […] because of the counter-information officers’ level of culture and lack of imagination: Frână de gură [‘mouth brake’], Volan [‘steering wheel’], Tractor, Reactor, Vapor [‘ship’], Raboteză [‘planer’], Bazin [‘basin’], Mâner [‘handle’], Cuer [‘peg’], Bivol [‘buffalo’], Papură [‘cattail’]” (Banu 2008: 31). Another case with original names was in a village where the officer gave and wrote only code names deriving from names of fruit and

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vegetables: Gutâi (‘quince’), Pară (‘pear’), Roúie (‘tomato’), Ardei (‘pepper’) etc. These bynames are also part of the same category of unconventional code names12 used by the Securitate: Epure (‘rabbit’), Vipera (‘adder’) (C. 2010), Cocoúul (‘rooster’), ğăranul (‘peasant’), Maúina (‘car’) etc. Nonetheless, these cases are relatively rare, because names were meant to resemble those in the civil registry, so as not to arouse the suspicion of those investigated.

Typology The records studied in the Archives allow for the establishment of a nominal typology of the collaborators of the Securitate in concurrence with the following onomastic criteria and categories: - surname: Filipescu, Lucescu, Suciu, Pricop, Livezeanu, Soreanu, Nicoara, Cristescu Petrescu, Deleanu, Bogza, Podaru, Pop, Mares, Teodorescu, Mironescu, Somesan, Neagoe, Candor, Oniceanu; - anthroponyms: Vlad, Mira, Lascar, Neagoe, Petru, Horia, Vlad, Bogdan, Ion, Costica, Maxim, Matei, Diana, Marian, Cristian, Barbu, Adrian, Sandu, Andrei, Sanda, Apostol, Nicusor, Valeriu, Viorel; - surname + first name: Gh. Lupu, Mihai Dugan, St. Dragomirescu, Popovici Ion Tudor, Ion Racovita, Petea Pavel, Ion Pricop, Stefan Barbulescu, Popescu Stefan, Stan Ion, Ionescu Pavel, Anghel Anghelescu; - hypocoristic forms: Ricuta, Misu, Bobi; - regional etymology: Falticeanu, Bihoreanu, Sandu Calafateanu; - foreign formal structure/etymology: Dona Alba, Franc, Frank Grigorescu, Xenia, Holly, Aida, Leon, Jean, Artur, Goldfaden, Loreley, Petronius, Nero, Sidorovici, Henrik; - bynames/nicknames: Grădinarul, Banu, Trandafir, Bolovan Nic, Cucu, BrînduЮ, Эoimu Dan, RoЮu; - alphanumeric characters: C1, B2, M1, A1; - abbreviations: N, F, C.A., T.T, R, A.E, P.O.; - changing to a name of the opposite gender: Catrinel Lacramioara— Panait, Maria; Vlad—Ruxandra; Petru—Anca; - plurality of names: Cassian—Crin, Casius, Casio. Moreover, the communist naming practice also used analogic appellatives in surveillance records to refer to people close to the investigated person, when they were of little importance or their identity 12

This paper pertains to a more consistent research project, Unconventional Romanian Anthroponyms in European Context: Formation Patterns and Discursive Function (funded by CNCS, code PN-II-RU-TE-2011-3-0007, contract number 103/2011, project manager Associate Professor Daiana Felecan).

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was unknown. Thus, the presence of some appellatives denoting relatives can be noticed in indirect names such as Dandu’s wife, O’s neighbour, Anca’s man, Petru Rares’ boss, Relu’s girlfriend, two individuals that were nicknamed […] etc. If the slightest doubt regarding the acquaintances of the person in question existed, then the conspiracy rule applied to them as well, for instance Geta, Dinu Radu and Diana Popescu. A special category consists of names used during surveillance operations13 due to the large number of individuals involved. This shows the existence of a naming strategy that allows for associations to be made between a person’s surveillance record and the individuals that took part, in one way or another, in the surveillance and that were external to the record of the investigated person. The following names were encountered in surveillance and identification notes: Ghita, Goanta, Gilda, Gioni, Gogiu, Gut, Gutu, Gom, Gina, Gogu, Geta, Gore, Gigi, Gelu. As one can see, it often happened that names with similar forms and structures were given to people that were acquainted with the surveilled person.

Conclusion The act of assigning a code name alternates foreign and native elements. This contributes to the birth of a double identity. The cyphering requires a transfer, an onomastic duality that reflects the conspiratorial nature of a dictatorial system like communism. The itinerancy between real names and code names has many linguistic and ideological values, because it allows for the functional characteristics of name-giving to be identified and it indicates the elements that help identify the sociocultural heritage present in Romanian society today. This study has applied the relational principle “real names-code names” and the analysis of the corpus has revealed important dysfunctions in the constancy of the naming process. Most names were supposed to obey the rule of “impersonality,” so as to leave the impression that they were ordinary surnames or first names in use. They were also meant to not attract attention or risk exposure. Few exotic names or with a foreign etymology are encountered (especially when a collaborator was foreign). Because of the formal perspective of the name, the primary purpose of identification is not entirely fulfilled. This leads to confusion in reports and in the correct correlation between surveillance agent, information and investigated individual. 13 Operative surveillance of monitoring activities. Photographs and notes regarding the meetings of an investigated individual were used.

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Because the officers in charge of the investigation and the Securitate agents had absolute power in the naming process, it can be stated that their social categories of origin are highly important. At the same time, this process is strongly influenced by the status that the investigated people had in the eyes of the communist regime—the more important the person, the greater the onomastic variety encountered. This provides vast study material, and the names contain a large number of clues that enable the understanding of how the naming system works.

References Acolada. 2010-2011. Banu, F. 2008. Re‫܊‬eaua informativa a Securită‫܊‬ii in anii ’50—Constituire, structura, eficienta. Caietele C.N.S.A.S 1 (2): 31. C., A. 2010. Emanuel Valeriu turnătorul de ziariúti. http://www.napocanews.ro/2010/03/emanuel-valeriu-turnatorul-deziaristi.html (accessed April 2012). Caietele C.N.S.A.S. 2007-2001. C.N.S.A.S. 2007. “Partiturile” Securităаii. Directive, ordine, instrucаiuni (1947-1987). C. Anisescu, S.B. Moldovan and M. Matiu (eds.). Bucure‫܈‬ti: Nemira. C.N.S.A.S. Archives (a). Fond Documentar. C.N.S.A.S. Archives (b). Fond Documentar, file no. 19, vol. 5, f. 137. Cubleúan, C. 2010. Scriitorul, cenzura si securitatea. Acolada 4/6 (33): 17. Dex online. http://dexonline.ro/ (accessed October 2012). Diac C., 2005. Via‫܊‬a ca o închisoare. In Istoria comunismului românesc, Jurnalul Naаional. http://istoriacomunismului.blogspot.ro/2005_06_01_archive.html (accessed June 2012). EvidenĠa reĠelei informative a aparatului de Securitate (I). http://www.ceausescu.org/ceausescu_texts/revolution/evidenta_1.htm (accessed March 2012). Totok, W. 2011. Securitatea úi lumea scriitorilor din România. http://m.rfi.ro/articol/stiri/cultura/securitatea-lumea-scriitorilorromania (accessed September 2012). ğăranu, L. 2008. OfiĠerii “ilegali” ai SecurităĠii, între folclor úi realitate. Cetatea Bihariei 2 (1): 149-158. Vaksberg, A. 1998. Hotel Lux. Partidele frăĠeúti în slujba InternaĠionalei Comuniste. M. Zoicaú (trans.). Bucureúti: Humanitas.

SECTION THREE: NAMES IN LITERATURE

THE CARNIVALISTIC ASPECT OF CHARACTER NAMES IN LITERATURE ANNA FORNALCZYK

The discussion of literature in the context of the carnivalesque started with Mikhail Bakhtin’s studies, written during the 1920s and 1930s, devoted to the analysis of Rabelais’ and Dostoyevsky’s works. Ever since, his theories have enjoyed unflagging popularity, inspiring numerous literary critics and academics. The influence of carnivalism on literature, defined as “carnivalisation” or “carnivalesque,” usually manifests itself in “the penetration or incorporation of carnival” (Cuddon 1992: 120)—a period of merrymaking and feasting, often associated with public parades, masquerades and street parties—into language and literature. The inseparable elements of the carnival are to disrupt and ridicule authority, to introduce alternatives, to suspend hierarchy and turn the hierarchical scale upside down, as well as to break down divisions between the real and the fantastic, the beautiful and the grotesque, monarch and subject, the sacred and the profane. The carnivalesque sense of the world is meant to free people from fear, but also to encourage free interaction, rejoicing in transformation and opposing the existing dogmas. Although the carnival as a cultural form and a specific way of perceiving the world declined in the seventeenth century, it still lives on in literature and popular culture, which adopted its legacy and functions. The typical features of carnivalistic literature are diversity of genres, heteroglossia, combining the serious and the comical and playing with different literary conventions (Skubaczewska-Pniewska 2011). Carnivalesque literature shows scenes of carnivalesque excess, of the lurid and the scatological (Logan 2011: 85), emphasising the disruptive, grotesque body and its biological functions as a factor in the celebration (Mikics 2007: 50). In the field of children’s literature, on which the present chapter will focus, the first extensive attempt at applying Bakhtin’s theories seems to have been undertaken by Oittinen in the 1990s. The Finnish researcher recognises the two concepts Bakhtin elaborated on, that is, carnivalism and

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dialogics, as the key issues characterising children’s culture and, as a consequence, also children’s literature. Oittinen (2006: 85) points out the main parallels between carnival and children’s literature. The first is its very status: “[L]ike carnivalism, children’s culture is nonofficial, with no dogma or authoritarianism. It does not exist to oppose adult culture as such, but rather lives on in spite of it” (Oittinen 2006: 85). Although marginalised for a long time, children’s literature does, nevertheless, occupy its own undeniable place in the literary polysystem and, in recent times, its significance for academic studies has been constantly growing. It is worth noting here the original contribution of a Polish researcher, CieĞlikowski, who regards children’s literature as “the fourth” or “the separate” literature, alongside national (or high), folk and popular (“pulp”) literature (CieĞlikowski 1985: 11). The terms used by him emphasise that children’s literature is a specific type of literature, with its own poetics, rules, market, press and critique. His view of children’s literature seems to explain well its position within the literary polysystem and accounts for the varying reactions of scholars towards the academic study of the subject. In this context, it is also worth mentioning that children’s literature often introduces new aesthetics—paradoxically, its initial marginal position within the literary system gave it the freedom to experiment. For example, it let authors such as Lewis Carroll, Thackeray, Kingsley and George MacDonald write fiction that used fantasy in ways well ahead of their time, in daring and experimental ways that point forward to more modernist freedoms (cf. Briggs 1987: 401). Undoubtedly, one such freedom refers to the use of the guise of a fantasy world to question the traditional world order and overturn social hierarchy. This non-official, non-dogmatic attitude, typical of the carnival tradition, becomes manifest in children’s literature (to mention only Twain’s The Prince and the Pauper or, in recent years, the Harry Potter or Horrid Henry series and Roald Dahl’s Revolting Rhymes). Another parallel between the carnival and children’s literature distinguished by Oittinen is festive laughter, the uproarious atmosphere of festivals and feasting, much enjoyed by the crowd. It includes freeing language from everyday constraints and using expressions unacceptable in official contexts. This is aimed not only at breaking the binding social norms to enjoy freedom and a reversed world order, but has several very practical purposes connected with children’s psychological development. One is the therapeutic act of ridiculing anything that is scary, in order to help child readers overcome their fears; another—opening new opportunities to experiment with language. Also, there is a strong focus on the mouth and eating and exaggerating bodily aspects, which links

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children’s literature to the carnivalesque: “As a whole, children’s culture could well be seen as one form of carnivalism” (Oittinen 2006: 89). Interestingly, the aspects identified above as representing the carnivalesque in children’s literature are also mentioned in empirical studies presenting the reception of humour among young readers. An example could be a survey conducted by Shannon (1999), in which the author set out to define what children viewed as comical in selected literary works. She divided the findings of her research into four categories: (1) achievement, mastery, sense of accomplishment (incidents related to children’s superiority to others, success, getting even); (2) physical events and appearances (the ridiculous, the exaggerated, the unexpected or the impossible in the context of something physical); (3) the scatological and the gross (toilet humour, gross or crude words and incidents); (4) language and wordplay (name-calling, funny-sounding words). All of these seem to have their equivalents in the Bakhtinian description of the carnivalesque. Obviously, they constitute only some aspects of the much more complex theory developed by the Russian scholar (the carnivalesque is not only about humour but about a certain perspective on life—the carnivalistic world view—as represented in literature). At the same time, however, the carnivalesque might be seen as one of the multiple aspects of humour, as pointed out in Mazur and RumiĔska (2007). Therefore, the two notions seem to overlap at some points, albeit remaining two distinct concepts. The goal of this chapter is to analyse selected examples of character names appearing in children’s literature from the perspective of the carnivalistic vision of the world. Firstly, it is assumed (following Oittinen) that children’s culture and children’s literature as such are a form of carnivalism. Secondly, literary proper names are treated as labels, based on the assumption that writers may have particular reasons to choose names for their characters. Thus, the relationship between names and name bearers is often meaningful, especially when the lexical layer of a name, its phonetic properties or the connotations and associations it stimulates add new meanings to the characteristics of a protagonist. Also, if proper names are treated as elements of the narrative communication between author and readers, it would seem interesting to see if (and what) aspects of the carnivalesque are present in the onomastic layer of a text. In the subsequent part of this chapter, selected examples of semantically transparent character names in contemporary children’s literature are

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analysed. Semantically transparent or speaking names (“noms parlant” in French, “redende Namen” in German) have been chosen for the reason that they are strongly context-bound, often invented specifically for the purposes of a narrative and characteristic of their bearers (charactonyms), as their meanings and connotations arise from the meaning and connotation of the words they stem from. The names in question will be discussed both as independent textual units with meanings of their own and against the background of the narrative context, in which they fulfil specific functions and in which their meaning is actualised or modified (for the discussion of the issue of meaning of nomina propria, cf., e.g., Fornalczyk 2012: 53-60). The first group of examples comes from Roald Dahl’s books for children. Criticised as an anti-authoritarian figure, manifesting his contempt for social institutions and showing an unfavourable portrayal of adults, but also praised for the entertaining character of his stories, he still enjoys enduring popularity (to illustrate this point, it is worth mentioning that in a 2008 poll he beat J. K. Rowling as Britain’s favourite author, cf. http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2008/jun/11/roalddahl). In Matilda (1988), an extraordinary child’s parents are presented as contemptuous and unpleasant, oblivious of their daughter’s existence. They are usually referred to as “Mr. and Mrs. Wormwood,” which is an allusion to bitter taste (and which thus forms a negative association). Epstein (2012: 70) makes an interesting observation that the name suits the couple, in that they are “rather rotten, like worm-ridden wood.” In addition, their name is connected with absinthe, made from the herb called grand wormwood, which was thought to cause madness, so the name might imply that these characters are mad or drink excessively. Another speaking name of a negative character is that of Miss Agatha Trunchbull, an ex-Olympic hammer thrower, now the headmistress of the school Matilda attends, who practises her throwing skills with children entrusted to her care. The name may evoke “truncheon” (and thus be a metonym of hitting) and “bull” (associated with enormous physical strength but also reminiscent of bullying), thus forming a scary-humorous mix. Both names fulfil several functions: they are charactonyms that suggest certain (negative) character traits of their bearers, which are later confirmed in the narrative. Additionally, through the use of a funny name, the authority of the adult (parent, teacher) is brought lower. Introducing humour and distance into frightful situations and bringing the high low (typical of the carnivalesque) are further illustrated on the level of the plot, when Matilda’s parents have to leave the country, escaping punishment for the criminal offences they committed, entrusting their daughter to a kind and

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loving teacher, Miss Honey. The other villain character, Miss Trunchbull, is defeated in the end through Matilda’s tricks and has to pay for all her wrongdoings. Calling a scary person with a funny-sounding name is a therapeutic and, at the same time, carnivalesque device of subverting authority. Perhaps not that surprisingly, this is also present in real-life naming patterns, especially when creating bynames for teachers. Juvenile nicknaming motivations stem mainly from their teachers’ physical, psychological or behavioural features and are clearly different from the motivations behind bynames given by adults, as was shown by Van Langendonck (2012: 227). Another book by Dahl to be discussed here is The BFG (1982). It tells the story of Sophie, a young orphaned girl, who with the help of the Big Friendly Giant, the Queen of England and the army manages to render the evil, human-eating giants powerless. The names of the nine monsters are: the Fleshlumpeater, the Bonecruncher, the Manhugger, the Childchewer, the Meatdripper, the Gizzardgulper, the Maidmasher, the Bloodbottler and the Butcher Boy. All the names hyperbolically express the act of devouring human beings and connote violence and destruction. All of them are connected with the act of eating, a thoroughly carnivalistic activity that in this context is directed against humans and thus dangerous. The hyperbole strengthens the humorous appeal of the names, hence making the appalling giants less frightful. Language play is often used for creating names in fiction for children and young adults. M. E. Kerr, Gary Paulsen, Louis Sachar, Polly Horvath often introduce names based on alliteration, allusions and irony (cf. Nilsen and Nilsen 2007). Likewise, J. K. Rowling gives her readers real puzzles, using descriptive and allusive names, often with stems from Greek, Latin and other languages (cf. among others WoĨniak 2006, Nilsen and Nilsen 2007, or numerous websites with dictionaries explaining the origins and meanings of the names and providing information on translations of the series). Proper names based on language and wordplay can also be found in literature for younger readers, for example in the new series Muncle Trogg by Janet Foxley (2010). In interviews, the author revealed that her motivation was to find unique names for the characters, giants, the majority of which are brutish and daft. The names reflect their characteristics: King Thortless (silly), Baby Flubb (flabby) and Titan Bulge (who is enormous, even in a giant-dominated world). The tiny titular giant’s name, Muncle Trogg, comes from Latin and Greek. It combines Latin homunculus ‘little man’ and Greek troglodyte ‘someone who lives in a hole in the ground.’ Creating such names not only reveals the author’s fascination with languages (the sounds and history of words),

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but it may also inspire inquisitive readers to search for the motivations behind the names of their favourite characters. However, enjoying this aspect of names is not reserved to children who are familiar with the actual lexical meaning of the speaking names—empirical research confirms that even names of a purely onomatopoeic or phonetically associative nature elicit responses from readers (e.g., Luft 2007, who used the semantic differential technique in her study of potentially associative proper names). The carnivalesque is not only present on the level of ingenious name structures (based on various stems), but often emerges from the phonetic qualities of the newly-formed names. Among numerous speaking names that can be found in C. S. Lewis’ The Chronicles of Narnia (1950-55), some are remarkable for their onomatopoeic features. Reepicheep and Peepiceek refer to the squeaking sounds mice make (Reepicheep and Peepiceek are both talking mice); Rumblebuffin contains deep, rolling sounds, typical of enormous creatures (Rumblebuffin is a giant); Puddleglum, through the use of specific consonant clusters, conveys the sense of something slimy, heavy and dull (Puddleglum is a marsh-wiggle). By way of digression, some excellent examples of onomatopoeic character names from earlier children’s literature would be Thackeray’s The Rose and the Ring (1854), with Bulbo, Glumboso and Gruffanuff, each evoking certain connotations with readers, which are later confirmed in the narrative, when the characters are introduced and presented in detail. Obviously, such names fulfil a characterising function, creating humorous associations. In some cases, the humorous aspect of names results from an axiological subversion, that is, good characters bear “bad names,” whereas villains bear “good names.” An excellent example is Francesca Simon’s Horrid Henry series (1994-2010), where Horrid Henry, Rude Ralph, Greedy Graham, Tough Toby etc. denote positive characters that readers are meant to identify with. On the other hand, seemingly agreeable propria, such as Perfect Peter, Tidy Ted, Goody-Goody Gordon, Spotless Sam etc. refer to “negative” characters that readers would identify with rather reluctantly. Through the use of humour, the positive or negative element is exaggerated and ridiculed, at the same time arousing doubts whether the good is really good and bad—bad. An important function of such names is to provide entertainment, break conventions and enable bearers to escape responsibility for their deeds, a thoroughly carnivalistic phenomenon (see also Fornalczyk and Biela-WoáoĔciej 2012). Multiple character names of a carnivalesque nature can be found in books representing the genres of fantasy and horror fiction for children. I would like to discuss R. L. Stine’s novels first, focusing on those from the

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Goosebumps series. The author, known as the “Stephen King of children’s literature,” released his first novel from the horror series in 1992 and has been doing so for the last twenty years, enjoying enormous popularity among readers. The series also appeared on the “Top 100 Banned/ Challenged Books,” alongside the Harry Potter series (opening the list), His Dark Materials by Pullman and Catcher in the Rye by Salinger. Goosebumps stories are scary and funny at the same time, and this is mirrored by the level of naming patterns. Often compared to cheap dime novels of the 1880s (in terms of their purposes and patterns of production, cf. Mesmer 1998), they still arouse controversy. As regards the carnivalesque employed in names, one could mention allusions to the distorted, grotesque, perhaps frightening body (Captain Long Ben OneLeg, Curly the Skeleton, the Headless Ghost), names that already on the semantic level signify frightening beings (The Blob Monster, Jonathan Chiller, Madame Doom, the Masked Mutant) and are a blend of the comic and the frightful. Some names bear a direct allusion to food (King Jellyjam) and tabooed bodily functions (Chef Belcher). The semantic meaning of these names is directly linked to the real qualities of their bearers. Another interesting case is Terry Pratchett’s The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents, which won the Carnegie Medal in 2002. This is a Discworld series novel about Keith, a teenage piper, his coach, the cat Maurice and a group of speaking and thinking rats. Pratchett uses numerous puns on names. The doubting rat is called Tomato (allusion to Doubting Thomas from the Gospel), and the famous human story-tellers from the novel are known by the name of the Sisters Grim (Agoniza and Eviscera Grim). Pratchett used an untypical method of inventing names for his characters: the rats’ names come from signs and labels on food tins, which the rats read before they knew what the words meant, but chose them because they liked the sounds. This is why the thinking rats’ gang includes names like Dangerous Beans, Donut Enter, Darktan, Additives, Big Savings, Toxie, Sardines and Peaches. When Malicia meets Keith and the rats for the first time, she is skeptical about their names: “Dangerous Beans? What sort of name is that?” “Shssh! They just learned words off old food tins and signs and things! They didn’t know what the words meant, they just chose them because they liked the sounds!” “Yes, but… Dangerous Beans? It sounds as if he makes you.” “It's his name. Don’t make fun of it!” “Sorry, I’m sure,” said Malicia, haughtily. (Pratchett 2001: online).

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Thus the reader learns that despite their funny-sounding names, the rats are to be taken seriously. Wordplay (and name-play by extension) seems to be one of the favourite stylistic devices Pratchett uses in his book for place names as well. Interestingly, his toponyms derive from several languages; suffice it to mention the German-sounding Bad Blintz in Überwald, Sto Lat (the functional equivalent of Happy Birthday in Polish) or Pseudopolis (from Greek, the name being a joke in itself). Other books from Terry Pratchett’s Discworld show characters whose names refer to food, e.g., Mr Teatime, Sacharissa, Glenda Sugarbean, Doughnut Jimmy, Evadne Cake, Magrat Garlick, Mightily Oats, Sergeant Jackrum. Also, there are allusions to words generally considered improper (offensive) or cruel/frightening, such as Bloody Stupid Johnson, Cut-MeOwn-Throat Dibbler and Coffin Henry (although, subversively, the name was coined for a character who relentlessly... coughs). Obviously, such names serve the purpose of ridiculing the frightening, hence making it less threatening. Possibly, this cursory study could be extended further to include other literary and real-life naming practices. Although the examples analysed in the present chapter come from contemporary children’s literature, similar cases could be discerned in many other “high” literature works, of both contemporary and earlier times. Suffice it to mention Shakespearean Bottom, Flute, Starveling and Snout from Midsummer’s Night Dream, whose introduction serves as a comic relief; Dickensian Honeythunder, Pumblechook, Pecksniff, among many others, or P.G. Wodehouse’s characters, whose detailed description in terms of the carnivalesque would require more space. In general, their names not only lend an additional dimension to readers’ interpretation of the story, but also have an aesthetic and humorous value. Another interesting point for further study is that the carnivalesque outlook on life seems to be so deeply rooted in the human psyche that it also manifests itself in contexts other than literary. Numerous examples could be found, e.g., Spillner’s study (2011), where personal hypocoristics were analysed from a semantic-pragmatic perspective. His research revealed that one of the lexical sources for creating pet names for people are pejorative terms—in principle, words with negative connotations, but interpreted in the context in a positive way, such as Ziege, Kröte, Hexe, Wurmi, Teufelchen, Mausespeck, Miststück, Stinker. Being able to create (and receive) such names certainly requires distancing from established norms and a dose of humour—and both are the underlying features of the carnival.

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As can be seen, the theory of carnivalisation can also be used in the field of onomastics, offering interesting insights into the analysis of literary proper names and real-life naming practices.

References Primary sources Dahl, R. 1982. The BFG. London: Puffin Books. —. 1988. Matilda. London: Puffin Books. Foxley, J. 2012. Muncle Trogg and the Flying Donkey. The Chicken House. Lewis, C.S. 2001 (1950-1955). The Chronicles of Narnia. New York: Harper Collins. Pratchett, T. 2001. The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents. http://home.uninet.ee/~ronin/stuhv/Terry%20Pratchett/Discworld%20 Novels/Pratchett,%20Terry%20-%20Discworld%2028%20%20The%20Amazing%20Maurice%20and%20His%20Educated%20R odents.pdf (accessed November 2012). Simion, F. 1994. Horrid Henry. Orion Children’s Books.

Secondary sources Bakhtin, M. 1981 (1930). The Dialogic Imagination. Austin/London: University of Texas Press. —. 1984. Problems of Dostoevsky’s Poetics. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. —. 1993 (1941). Rabelais and His World. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Briggs, J. 1987. A Woman of Passion: The Life of E. Nesbit, 1858-1924. London: Penguin. CieĞlikowski, J. 1985. Literatura osobna. Warszawa: Nasza KsiĊgarnia. Cuddon, J.A. 1992. Penguin Dictionary of Literary Terms and Literary Theory. London: Penguin Books. Epstein, B.J. 2012. Translating Expressive Language in Children’s Literature. Oxford: Peter Lang. Fornalczyk, A. 2012. Translating Anthroponyms. Exemplified by Selected Works of English Children’s Literature in Their Polish Versions. Peter Lang: Frankfurt am Main. Fornalczyk, A., and A. Biela-WoáoĔciej. 2012. Good names and bad names. The axiological aspect of literary proper names—a cognitive

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approach. In Name and Naming: Synchronic and Diachronic Perspectives, O. Felecan (ed.), 269-283. Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Logan, P.M. (ed.). 2011. The Encyclopedia of the Novel. Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell. Luft, Y. 2007. Die Bedetung von Namen in Kinderbüchern. Eine Studie zur literarischen Onomastik im Spannungsfeld zwischen Autor und Leser. Duisburg: Universitätsverlag Rhein-Ruhr. Mazur, J., and M. RumiĔska. 2007. Humor i karnawalizacja we wspóáczesnej komunikacji jĊzykowej. Lublin: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Marii Curie-Skáodowskiej. Mikics, D. 2007. A New Handbook of Literary Terms. New Haven, London: Yale University Press. Nilsen A.P., and D.L.F. Nilsen. 2007. Names and Naming in Young Adult Literature. Lanham: The Scarecrow Press. Oittinen, R. 2006. The Verbal and the Visual: On the Carnivalism and Dialogics of Translating for Children. In The Translation of Children’s Literature. A Reader, G. Lathey (ed.), 84-97. Clevedon, Buffalo, Toronto: Multilingual Matters. RumiĔska, M. 2007. Michaáa Bachtina teoria karnawalizacji jĊzyka. In Humor i karnawalizacja we wspóáczesnej komunikacji jĊzykowej, J. Mazur and M. RumiĔska (eds.), 181-202. Shannon, D. 1999. What children find humorous in the books they read and how they express their responses. International Journal of Humor Research 12-2: 119-149. Skubaczewska-Pniewska, A. 2011. Teoria karnawalizacji literatury Michaáa Bachtina. In Teoria karnawalizacji, A. Stoff and A. Skubaczewska-Pniewska (eds.), 15-36. ToruĔ: Wydawnictwo Naukowe Uniwersytetu Mikoáaja Kopernika. Spillner, B. 2011. Kosenamen von deutschen Jugendlichen. In Name and Naming. Proceedings of the International Conference on Onomastics, O. Felecan (ed.), 263-267. Cluj-Napoca: Editura Mega. Van Langendonck, W. 2012. Diachronic Classification of Bynames given by Adults, and Bynames given by Young People. In Name and Naming: Synchronic and Diachronic Perspectives, O. Felecan (ed.), 222-231. Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. WoĨniak, M. 2006. Czy Harry Potter pod inną nazwą nie mniej by pachniaá? Przekáadaniec 1/2006 (16): 171-192.

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Online sources (accessed November 2012) http://www.kidsreads.com/authors/janet-foxley/news/interview-040812 http://rlstine.com http://www.ala.org/advocacy/banned/frequentlychallenged/challengedbyde cade/2000_2009 https://secure.hosting.vt.edu/www.soe.vt.edu/elementaryed/mesmer/pdf/M esmer%201998.pdf

ESOTERIC MEANINGS OF TOPONYMY IN MIRCEA ELIADE’S PROSE GHEORGHE GLODEANU

Mircea Eliade drew up a specific imaginary universe, oftentimes hallucinating, where reality always mixes with the imaginary and with the fabulous universe of myths. The writer uses a crafty technique of the mask; behind the exterior décor one can always find hidden significances which are easily missed at a superficial reading. The author of The Forbidden Forest (Noaptea de Sânziene) drew up an original theory about fantasy literature based on camouflaging the sacred in the profane or, in other words, on the theory of the unrecognisability of the miracle. Contributing to the creation of a mythological geography, toponymy and onomastics are not random in Mircea Eliade’s prose. On the contrary, these all participate in the creation of the fantastic effect and in the circumscribing of a novel universe in which the sacred is disguised in the profane. Researching Mircea Eliade’s fantastic prose from an archetypal perspective leads to the decoding of some ancient myths, turned into literary themes due to the actuality of their message. The writer starts from the beliefs manifested in oriental philosophical systems and especially from the local folklore traditions which he processes by means of his imagination. The essential resemblance that the well-known historian of religions sees between his fantastic prose and mythology resides in the fact that, similar to myths, such a type of literature puts special focus upon the act of creation itself: Such a type of literature creates its own Universe, just like myths present to us the creation of Worlds, of the different states of being (animal, plant, human etc.), of institutions, of behaviours etc. In this respect one can talk about the prolongation of the myth into literature: not only due to the fact that certain structures and Mythological figures appear in the imaginary universes of literature, but especially due to the fact that in both cases one talks about the creations, i.e., revelation, of parallel worlds. (Eliade 1993: 586)

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This is not only about the transformation of myths into literary themes through the repetition of certain epic scenarios or mythological figures, but about the creation of parallel universes capable of competing with the objective reality. The act of genesis remains the essential issue which marks the prolongation of myths into literature. Even the organic need for dreams that is felt by individuals in desacralised societies is nothing more than the reflex of an acute need for mythology, the myth being, above all, a story told according to all the rules of the species, even if it lost its sacred character along the way: What is fascinating about these experiences is the organic need that the individual has for “dreaming,” i.e., mythology. (For no matter your approach to the structure and content of dreams, their “mythological” character is indubitable. At oneiric level, “mythology” means story, i.e., watching a sequence with epic or dramatic episodes. It seems that in any situation individuals need to witness stories, to watch them, to listen to them. The original character of the Epopee. To be linked to everything I wrote about the ecstatic origins of the epic poem). (Eliade 1993: 554-555)

Through its epic and/or dramatic content the narrative translates an existential requirement, namely that of constantly finding out new histories, no matter the literary genre or species into which they materialise. On the other hand, the literary work (especially the novel), represents an instrument for knowing the world, its universe revealing— like myths—a series of major meanings related to the individual’s condition in the universe. Just like the human being in archaic societies— Eliade writes in his Journal—cannot exist without myths, the modern individual cannot live without exemplary stories, for the latter the narrative being a “formula readapted to the modern consciousness of myth and mythology” (Eliade 1993: 210). In fact, in the vision of the great scientist, the degradation and disappearance of great mythologies is what paves the road to literature. Another thing that brings literary imagination and mythical imagination closer together is the special interest for unveiling significances. Eliade wishes to rehabilitate the metaphysical dignity of the narrative, ignored by the tradition of the nineteenth century realistic literature. In fact, the writer considers literary imagination as a prolongation of the mythological creativity and of the oneiric experience. For the author of The Forbidden Forest (Noaptea de Sânziene) the myth remains an epical matrix that can be infinitely modelled and enriched and that by means of the artistic process is adapted to the consciousness of the contemporary individual. Another important element in the definition Eliade provides for the myth is that one can read in it a definition of the

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fantastic, seen as an eruption of the sacred into the profane: “In fact, myths describe the diverse and sometimes dramatic outbursts of the sacred (or the supernatural) into the world. It is precisely this outburst of the sacred that truly substantiates the world and makes it what it is today” (Eliade 1978: 6). In his conversations with Claude-Henri Rocquet, Mircea Eliade talks again about the contiguity between literature and myth, providing more nuance to the previously expressed ideas. The historian of religions identifies literature with a new form of mythology, the mythology of modern individuals, who alienated themselves from the sacred and who feel a strong compensatory need for dreaming. Even the scientist’s approaches can be considered attempts to rediscover the forgotten springs of literary inspiration: It is known that literature, be it oral or written, is the daughter of mythology and that it inherited some of its functions: to tell stories, to tell something significant that happened in the world. […] I think that any narrative, even that of a very common fact, prolongs the great stories found in myths which explain how this world came into being and how our condition became what it is today. I think that our interest for the narrative is part of our way of being in this world. It answers our need for hearing what happened, what people achieved and what they can achieve: risks, adventures, trials of all kinds. We are not here as mere rocks, or flowers, or insects, whose life is decided beforehand: we are human beings made up by events. And people will never cease to listen to stories. (Eliade 1990: 141-142)

In Mircea Eliade’s vision the appearance of writing does not destroy mythical creativity; on the contrary, it creates a new mythology, that of the Book. Considering that the myth is prolonged in the act of writing, the writer, even though a confirmed advocate of novelty in literature, denies those experiments which promote philosophical nihilism and artistic insignificance. The triumph of the lack of significance which manifests itself in certain direction of modern art seems to him a revolt towards the human essence; being human means precisely revelling significances, authentic values. Nevertheless, in his literary work Mircea Eliade does not find inspiration only in the universe of myths; he creates, in his turn, a series of essential myths such as the myth of the homeland or that of the citadel. In the work dedicated to his spiritual master, Culianu (1995: 168) considers that the author of The Serpent (ùarpele) “is undoubtedly one of the greatest creators of myths of our times.” Both the employment of the fantastic and the narrative technique used deeply contribute to this aspect.

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On the one hand, the writer aspires to complete authenticity and reveals himself in his autobiographic literature. On the other hand, there is the intervention of the creator of myths, the playful author of enigmas, who never reveals ultimate realities, but is satisfied only with mere suggestions. The text is always doubled by a subtext and the reader needs to have the patience of a hermeneutist aiming at decoding an encrypted message. The stories always have one or more possible keys, the writer being a cryptographer elaborating an esoteric message, who through his labyrinthic approach, does not shy away from baffling the reader. The author of The Ethereal Parchment (Pergamentul diafan) considers that Eliade is a creator of myths especially due to the inability of the others to decipher the story, a creation deliberately positioned “under the seal of mystery.” Starting from the meanings provided to this term by the ancient Greeks, Culianu calls Eliade a “mystagogue,” i.e., a master, a guide. On the other hand, the writer proves to be a “mystagogue” because “he invents mysteries and coaches others into following his pathway” (Culianu 1995: 256). In other words, he is both a spiritual master and a guide, an initiator in the net of mysteries he created. One of the essential myths present in Mircea Eliade’s prose is that of the citadel. Tied through thousands of sentimental threads to his native city, the author presents not a historical Bucharest but a fabulous city, dominated by myths and symbols, camouflaged behind a quotidian background that is only apparently banal. For the exile, the city that decisively marked his life becomes a privileged space, a true paradisiacal topos. From this perspective, the city present only in the memory of the exile becomes a true citadel of joy. Mircea Eliade seems to illustrate the fact that despite the appearances and etymological suggestions, Bucharest is not the “the city of Bucur.” The name of the citadel originates rather from “Helis” (‘The Citadel of Joy’), the capital-city/citadel of King Dromihete located in this area. “I like this city, I like living in Bucharest” (Eliade 1995: 193), confesses Leana, the main character in the short story In Dionysus’ Yard (În curte la Dionis). This confession expresses, in fact, the author’s feelings, the antique links between Mircea Eliade and his native city. The miraculous events the reader witnesses unfold in an environment of a distinctive charm, that of Bucharest between the two world wars. This is the land where the heroes of so many remarkable narratives discuss, act, suffer and love. On Mântuleasa Street (a symbolic name, referring to the possibility of salvation, of redemption, of the access to the sacred camouflaged in the profane) one can find the old teacher Zaharia Fărâmă (‘Zachariah Crumb’) ceaselessly telling his ancient stories. It is important to remember that for Mircea Eliade it is not the

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“real” history of a place that is important. History based on documents becomes a mere pretext for the projection into mythology. Making up the memory of a topos with highly fabulous resonances, Zaharia Fărâmă (‘Zachariah Crumb’) is a symbolic character. Through his labyrinthic stories, he is the one who maintains the mythology of the place. The name of the character is significant in itself, making reference both to the memory and to a narrative technique based on narrating fragments (crumbs). The first name Zaharia (‘Zachariah’) is of Hebrew origin, deriving from Zakaryah. Zekarjah or Zakaryah is an anthroponym with tradition for the old Jews. The structure of the name is also suggestive. The “jah” particle originates from Jahve, the name of the divinity, while the verb “zakar” means ‘to remember.’ The origins of the Mântuleasa Street are lost in legend. Even the name of the street sends us back a few centuries, when the land on which the new neighbourhood would be built belonged to the squire Iorgu Calomfir and his wife, Arghira. Because she was able to give back Arghira’s eyesight, a trial at which all doctors and lens-makers had failed, Zamfira, a peasant girl, was rewarded with the land on which the future Mântuleasa Street would be built, the name of the street originating from the name of the woman’s future husband. In the writer’s vision, the city is a protective centre, a space of comfort, of dreaming. Metaphorically speaking, Mircea Eliade’s Bucharest represents a true yard of Dionysus. Under the seal of God Dionysus, the citadel turns into a true embodiment of the earthly paradise. This paradisiacal image becomes even more vivid in the memories of the exiled writer, who cannot return to the miraculous topos of his childhood and youth. As the god of the vine and of wine, Dionysus imposes a specific style of life. Every city is characterised by the existence of certain edifices which provide it with a specific atmosphere. Such mysterious places, famous for their atmosphere, are the little Bucharest pubs. It is here that one can meet Leana, the main character in the short story In Dionysus’ Yard (În curte la Dionis): “[…] You should have seen her about ten years ago, continues Hrisanti; you should have seen her in 1920-1922, when she was singing at ‘The Sunflower!’ No, there’s no way you know the place; it was a small pub, hidden on Popa Soare Street (Priest Sun Street), but it used to have a garden as well, and Leana would come to sing there every summer” (Eliade 1995: 175). The name Leana makes reference to the famous princess in Romanian folklore stories, Ileana Cosânzeana. Its solar significances are found in consonance with the name of the pub where she used to sing (“The Sunflower,” ‘Floarea-Soarelui’) and with the name of the street Popa Soare (‘Priest Sun’), where the pub was located. Leana is

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the typical character of the Bucharest gardens, condemned to sing in pubs “for her sins.” In Dionysus’ Yard (În curte la Dionis) is the name of the most famous song sung by the mysterious songstress. “The Sunflower,” “Sycamore Trees,” “The Swing,” “Seagull” and “Petty Longing” are only a few of the gardens where she announces through her songs the future integration in the famous “yard of Dionysus.” In a world dominated by the cold war, Mircea Eliade rediscovers the myth of Orpheus and speaks about the possibility of salvation of humankind through music. Leana takes the place of an amnesic Orpheus, Adrian, who loses his memory (and thus his purpose in the world) after an accident. It is now too that the true meaning of the song In Dionysus’ Yard is revealed to us; it is a poem written under the sign of Orpheus singing about “the nameless beatitude” to be found in God Dionysus’ court. The message of the orphic myth is the following: “the change of the human being, hid mutation, cannot start from the top, through the elite, but from very low, from the common people, the ones who party in gardens and restaurants at night […]” (Eliade 1995: 214). Not understanding the meaning of Orpheus’ teachings, “nobody understands that poetry is not only a soteriology but a political technique as well” (Eliade 1995: 214). Only poetry can bring us redemption or change a person. This is the message of the modern Orpheus, descended into the Bucharest gardens. Bucur’s city has inspired numerous writers ever since the nineteenth century (Alexandru Pelimon, Radu Ionescu, Ioan M. Bujoreanu, George Baronzi etc.), to the present day. This is also Gavrilescu’s homeland, the piano teacher from the narrative called With the Gypsy Girls (La Ġigănci). The character is symbolic. His name represents the degraded variant of the Archangel Gabriel, the true messenger of the sacred, of the divine message. One must not forget the fact that the character has an altered destiny. For his sins (which brings him close to Leana, the central character in the narrative In Dionysus’ Yard/În curte la Dionis), the former artist falls to the more modest status of piano teacher. Similarly, instead of Hildegrad, the great love of his life, Gavrilescu marries Elsa, a rather degraded, domestic variant of the feminine ideal. And this is the origin of the character’s great tragedy. What is interesting, though, is the fact that the important changes in the hero’s destiny occur due to accidents: the scorching heat in his youth and the forgetting of the piano scores in his adulthood. The piano teacher’s entire life unfolds according to certain automatisms. There are three symbolic spaces among which Gavrilescu’s fantastic adventure happens: Preoteselor Street (‘The Priestesses’ Street’), the paradisiacal territory of the gypsy girls and the Vama Poútei (‘The Posts Customs’). On Preoteselor Street (topos with sacred resonances), at

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number 18, lives Mrs. Voitinovici with her niece, Otilia Pandele, Gavrilescu’s pupil. The second major spatial benchmark, the garden with nut and linden trees, represents a true court of delights, whose patron is the God Dionysus. At Vama Poútei (number 101) is the house of Gavrilescu and of his wife, Elsa. The movement of the character among these symbolic territories takes place three times a week by tram. The reference to numerology is not accidental in Mircea Eliade’s narratives, the use of numbers with magical value potentiating the esoteric significances of the text. Entering the protective topos of the gypsy girls at a symbolic hour (3 o’clock in the afternoon) sets off a serious temporal anomaly between the mythical time (a form of atemporality) and the historical time (which means passing, degradation, death). In the profane Bucharest the hours spent “with the gypsy girls” represent twelve years, the symbol of the great cosmic year. At the end of the narrative, the profane vehicle, the tram, is substituted with a mythical one, the hansom. Thus making the passage between worlds, the access to the sacred possible, the hansom is a thanatic vehicle, similar to the car in the novel The Forbidden Forest (Noaptea de Sânziene). Space returns to the centre of attention in the narrative called The Secret of Dr. Honigberger (Secretul doctorului Honigberger). This time the story is about a mysterious mansion on S. Street (an initial of mystery), number 17. It holds the famous library of Zerlendi, the one set on decoding the great mysteries Dr. Honigberger hides. As a symbol of intimacy, the house represents a microcosm, a miniature replica of Dionysus’ yard. By means of his descriptions, Mircea Eliade circumscribes the topography of Bucharest at the beginning of the twentieth century, endowing it with mythical connotations. And it is not only the exile’s distance in time and space that contribute to it, but toponymy as well.

References Culianu, I.P. 1995. Mircea Eliade, reviVed and improved HGLWLRQ. F. ChiriĠescu and D. Petrescu (trans.). Bucharest: Nemira. Eliade, M. 1978. Aspecte ale mitului. P.G. Dinopol (trans.). Bucharest: Univers. —. 1993. Jurnal, volumXO I (1941-1969). M. Handoca (ed. coord.). Bucharest: Humanitas. —. 1995. Integrala prozei fantastice, vol. I-III, Pe strada Mântuleasa. E. Simion (ed.). Iaúi: Moldova.

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Glodeanu, G. 2009. Coordonate ale imaginarului în opera lui Mircea Eliade. Iaúi: Tipo Moldova. Ionită-Iancu, I. 2012. Onomastica românească si unele aspecte didactice ale valorificării antroponimiei. Piteúti: Paralela 45. Rezeanu, A. 2003. Toponimie bucuresteană. Bucharest: Romanian Academy, National Foundation for Science and Art, “Iorgu Iordan— Al. Rosetti” Institute of Linguistics. —. 2009. Studii de toponimie urbană. Viziune diacronică. Baia Mare: Editura UniversităĠii de Nord.

TRANSLATION OF LITERARY PROPER NAMES GEORGIANA LUNGU-BADEA Introduction Defining proper names (Pn) has been an issue since antiquity, as the thesis regarding the duality of language extends to them. In Cratylos, Plato concurs with Socrates’ opinion on this topic that has an undiminished vitality: Soc[rates]. The word onoma seems to be a compressed sentence, signifying on ou zetema (being for which there is a search); as is still more obvious in onomaston (notable), which states in so many words that real existence is that for which there is a seeking (on ou masma); aletheia is also an agglomeration of theia ale (divine wandering), implying the divine motion of existence; pseudos (falsehood) is the opposite of motion; here is another ill name given by the legislator to stagnation and forced inaction, which he compares to sleep (eudein); but the original meaning of the word is disguised by the addition of ps; on and ousia are ion with an i broken off; this agrees with the true principle, for being (on) is also moving (ion), and the same may be said of not being, which is likewise called not going (oukion or ouki on = ouk ion). (Plato: online, my italics)

Wishing to draw attention to a certain translational prejudice, this chapter deals with aspects of the translation of semantic Pn1 in literary works, particularly those that refer to literary characters and to the titles of literary works (which are proper names belonging to the category of ergonyms). According to this, the interlingual transfer of Pn is a process that does not strain the translator, as these are rendered by means of reporting or transcoding (Ballard 2001 Delisle 2003). The portrayal of the legitimate extension of the non-translation, specific to the non-semantic Pn (from the category of semantic and literary Pn, i.e., ergonyms, anthroponyms, toponyms etc.), has allowed the identification of the risks of distorting the ST (source text) and TT (target text), the information, the 1

Neologisms, non-semantic Pn or those consisting only of macro-generic signs (/human/ and /male/, for Giuseppe, Pascal, Ion, or /human/ and /female/, for Florence, Anne, Claire) are not analysed in this chapter.

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connection and the communication, but also of deviating from the meaning, objective or effect intended by the author. Literary onomastics and the four-dimensional nature of Pn (semantic, sociolinguistic, graphic and phonetic), the place given to proper names in different paratexts and cultural references sometimes require paratextual explanations or “re-active” translation creations. Thus, the (in)translatability of literary proper names created by writers refers not only to different levels of translation analysis, but also to the matter of proper name semantics (descriptive, modified, mixed etc.). Onomastic taxonomy (anthroponyms: patronyms, forenames; toponyms: oronyms, odonyms etc.; pragmatonyms, ergonyms) proves the complexity of the phenomenon known as “proper name” (Tomescu 1998). Moreover, its substance makes it impossible to ignore its four-dimensional nature— semantic, sociolinguistic, graphic and phonetic—especially since the signs macro-, micro-, mesogeneric and specific (Herbert 1996: 43) that particularise the analysed semantic Pn (literary names, anthroponyms, bynames, ergonyms) can be updated simultaneously or consecutively, thus increasing the difficulty to generalise a prototypical behaviour.

The multidimensional nature of literary Pn It is, therefore, difficult to divide the analysis of the four-dimensional nature of Pn. The forenames, patronyms, pseudonyms, bynames, culturebound terms, pseudo-Pn (cf. Frege 1971) that have been given new meanings by lexicalisation and recontextualisation in non-literary texts where they gain the status of culture-bound terms (Jourdain, Folleville, Fréron, Panurge etc., cf. Lungu-Badea 2004, 2009a, 2011b), require their semantics to be analysed.

The semantics of Pn and their translation Relevant translations demand the noting and understanding of the designation function of Pn, which, at a semasiological level, serve to identify an entity or a very precise concept, but also of the connotations and meanings that can be activated in a given context. The dilemma with defining, approaching, dealing with and using Pn, maintained by the tendentious interpretation of semantic-non-semantic cleaving perspectives, has equally troubled philosophers, linguists and writers. Admirably illustrated by Carroll, the issue also perpetuates in translation:

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“[…] but tell me your name and your business.” “My name is Alice, but—” “It’s a stupid name enough!” Humpty Dumpty interrupted impatiently. “What does it mean?” “Must a name mean something?” Alice asked doubtfully. “Of course it must,” Humpty Dumpty said with a short laugh: “my name means the shape I am—and a good handsome shape it is too. With a name like yours, you might be any shape, almost.” (Carroll 1964: 181)

In the same manner, it is constructively and creatively treated by translators: Fr. Alice, respectively, the phonetic match Heumpty-Deumpty, whereas in Ro. Alisa, graphically and phonetically assimilated, and the lexical creation Coco-Cocou (Ballard 2011). Metaphorical and lexicalised Pn Many lexicalised Pn renew their identification function in literary texts, pamphlets and satires. A proper name and an ergonym, Candide (Voltaire 1990) presents inherent and extrinsic signs and connotations that comprise the semantic paradigm of “candour”—naivety, innocence, purity etc. Owing to lexical, extralinguistic, paratextual and peritextual knowledge, the translator identifies the entity marked (Gary-Prieur 1994: 34) by a proper name whose meaning derives from the interaction between multiple types of signs (/macrogeneric/human/, /male/; /microgeneric/hero/, /Voltairean character/; /mesogeneric/fiction/; /specific/, /most naive/, /the purest/ etc.). It should be mentioned that the translation of a type of Pn, even when they are found in one and the same literary text, does not follow a unique transfer strategy, through a unique translation process. Therefore, in transferring the proper name frère Giroflée, Ro. fratele Garoafă, It. fra’ Garofolo, Sp. el hermano Alhelí, En. Father/Friar Giroflee (Voltaire, op.cit.), it can be noticed that a different connotation arises—the meaning of the sign is associated with a metaphorical proper name, not a referential one. Its semantics derive from the connotation that the sign activates in the context, in this manner differentiating itself from referential Pn, whose semantics come from the content of the referent and for which the onymic interpretation is exclusively based on the proper name as a linguistic sign (Gary-Prieur 1994: 58). Although Candide and frère Giroflée are part of the category of metaphorical Pn, the way in which they are translated is not the same—the former (the meaning of the sign, ‘of an absolute moral purity’) is transferred into the TL by using its semantic equivalent (Ro. Candid, It. Candido, Sp. Cándido, En. Candide); the latter can be adapted in order to avoid explaining the Voltairean irony in a translator’s note, or transferred by means of reporting (in En.) and commented in the

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translator’s note. The translator’s decision is directly influenced by the type of text and its purpose, but also by the receiver’s mentality, by linguistic varieties. This is one example—En. Humpty Dumpty (Carroll), Fr. Heumty-Deumpty (Carroll/Parisot), Ro. Coco-Cocou (Carroll/ Papadache).2 However, Blancheur is transferred by means of reporting, although it is part of the same category and could subscribe to the semantic paradigm of Candide (Bédier 1981 Gyurcsik 2000). Semantic Pn like Gargantua (with a bizarre, empirical, subjective, and homophonous etymology “que grand tu as”), Badebéec (“bouche-bée” and “bec-ouvert” ‘gaper, open mouth’), Pantagruel (from Gr. panta ‘everything’ and gruel ‘altered’), Epistemon and Pricocol, Painensac, Mouillevent, are transferred by means of reporting or by using loan translations in the Romanian version—Pâinensac and Vânturăvânt (Rabelais 1961). For the transfer of mixed, descriptive-designating Pn, the translation method is also mixed—report and semantic translation—Aguyguerran le Roux, Iseut la Blonde (Bédier 1981: 24, 55), Aguyguerran cel Roúcovan, Isolda cea Blondă (Bédier and Gyurcsik 2000: 10, 32), la Reine aux cheveux d’or (Bédier 1981: 48), Reginei cu părul de aur (Bédier and Gyurcsik 2000: 27). Pn as culture-bound terms The inherent evocation effect of Pn as culture-bound terms increases their endurance to translation (Lungu-Badea 2012: 289-308), and this is added to the general relativity that conditions the meaning and form of Pn as culture-bound terms. In this quality, Pn are: (1) able to be automatically identified, as they are current and easily understood by the target audience, but not necessarily transparent for the translator (2) less used, bookish, historical, therefore quasi-(in)accessible to the translator (3) inaccessible, non-current or with a restricted usage, varying from one speaker to another (see Bally 1951, I: 208, 211, 247). The importance of these Pn, as that of pseudo proper names (Frege 1971: 116-117), is essential in their recontextualised usage. The comparison of identifying and metaphorical types of Pn reveals that due to their descriptiveness, metaphorically modified proper names are closer to common nouns. For instance, the metaphorical Pn Harpagon (/fictional character/, /Molière’s character/, /the most avaricious/) 2 The examples are taken from the Romanian version of the paper called Le Nom propre en traduction by M. Ballard.

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describes a person characterised by these qualities. As a name lexicalised by means of modifiers—a real/un vrai Harpago, some/des Harpagons (Rom. “Harpagoni”)—, it is very likely to be substituted3 by a culturebound term specific to the TL, by Hagi Tudose (in order to stay within the same category of Pn) or by “cheapskate.” Another recontextualised use worth mentioning (Lungu Badea 2004, 2011a), from the same epoch, is that of the patronym Fréron (/history/, /French journalist and polemist/, /Voltaire’s most famous adversary/, /the least capable [according to Voltaire] to write literary texts/) and the intersection of the signs. Qu’appelez-vous un “folliculaire”? dit Candide—C’est, dit l’abbé, un faiseur de feuilles, un Fréron (Voltaire 1994: 209) Ce înseamnă un pamfletar? […] Unul care scrie tot felul de fiĠuici úi le răspândeúte în toate părĠile ǚ. (Voltaire translated by Al. Philippide 1993: 157). “Che significa per voi „follicolario”? disse Candido. “Significa,” disse l’abate, “un facitore di fogli, un Fréron” (Voltaire, Candido ovvere l’ottimismo, translated by R. Baccheli 2004: 119) ¿A qué llamáis foliculario?, dijo Cándido—Es, dijo el abate, fabricantes de panfletos, un F…* (Voltaire, traducción de E. Diego 2001: 132) * F… es Fréron, periodista director de L’Année littéraire à partir de 1754 e enemigo de Voltaire (NdT – E.D.). “What is a folliculaire?”—said Candide. “It is,” said the Abbé, “a pamphleteer—a Fréron*.” (Voltaire, anonymous English version, 1991: 58) * Explanatory TN. “D’où vient que ce nom de Fréron / Est l’emblème du ridicule?” (Voltaire, Les Fréron)

3

In accordance with the type of text, there are several types of solutions that should be considered when transferring Pn as culture-bound terms: (1) reporting, transcoding or borrowing, according to the level of language or discourse; (2) (1) accompanied by clarifications; (3) dynamic equivalence; (4) (3) plus a translator’s note; (5) (1) plus a translator’s note (Lungu-Badea 2004: 113).

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Translation of Literary Proper Names De unde numele ăsta, Freron / E blazon de bufon?—“Where does this name, Freron, come from/ Is it a buffoon’s blazon?” (my translation)

In Candide Voltaire justifies, much like Rabelais, the sign and the contextual meaning of the proper name with the help of a common noun, and the subjective combination of the translation solutions seems to predominate. Only the Romanian translator omits the proper name (ǚ) and chooses pamfletar (‘pamphleteer’),4 “pamphlet author,” developing a meaning close to “grub,” “copyist,” “gribouilleur,” scribălău (‘penman’), “scribouillard,” without, however, following the folliculaire-feuilles relation. FiĠuicar (‘ragger’), derived from fiĠuică (‘rag’), could precede the proper name Fréron, which should also be kept in the Romanian version. The Spanish translation is vindicated to the level of acceptability, but not of adequacy, by the translation note. The translators of Italian, Spanish and English use the lexical correspondent, borrowed, paraphrased and explained through its semantic equivalent to convey Fr. faiseur de feuilles (the maker of sheets of paper, not leaves!), Fr. pamphlétaire. The underestimation of the specific Pn traits determined the alteration of the author’s intention by changing the referent due to the adoption of functional stylistic equivalence. This way, the preservation through report5 of the patronym Hainăroúie6 (/fiction/, /Romanian communist/, /the most fervent/) leads to a complete oversight of the author’s psychological intention and of the semantic intention of the ST. The variability of the transfer strategy of literary Pn can, at times, be justified in one and the same text by a single translator. In other situations, it is incomprehensible, showing subjectivism or inconsistency, as in the case of the authentic proper name Paul Goma (/historical reality/ and/or /fiction/, /Romanian writer residing in Paris/, /Romanian dissident and anti-communist first and foremost/), transferred by using a different patronym, Paul Toma.

Literary titles and Pn Thematically (Fr. Qu’est-ce que la traduction ‘relevante’?, Derrida) or rhematically (Fr. Plaidoyer pour les intellectuels, Sartre), as labels or auctorial, lecturing, editorial, commercial reading programmes, titles are included in the category of ergonyms. They are locutionary speech acts 4

All the examples in this chapter were translated by the author. Habits rouge would have referred to English soldiers, however the translation using the loan translation Vesterouge might, in spite of the hyponymy, transfer the semantic proper name created by ğepeneag. 6 Examples taken from Maramureú by D. ğepeneag. 5

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(according to Hoek 1981: 244) with an informative function (ibid.: 283), as well as illocutionary speech acts (ibid.: 284) with a performative function and based on the sender’s authority, but also perlocutionary acts that are persuasive, challenging and commercial. The proteanism of titling functions is the cause of the translator’s apprehensions. Varying in length, literary ergonyms can have different forms: - one-two letters: S/Z from Barthes; - one word, from a common noun: Fr. L’Étranger, It. Lo straniero, Sp. El extranjero, Ro. Străinul (Camus); - a proper name with a titling value: Fr. Artémis (Nerval); Fr. Caligula (Camus); Fr. Phèdre, Sp., It., Ro. Fedra (Racine); Fr., It., Catalan Kyra Kyralina, Ro. Chira Chiralina (Istrati); - an elliptic or non-elliptic sentence: Fr. La matière et la mémoire, It. Materie e Memoria, Ro. Materie úi memorie, Sp. Materia y memoria (Bergson); Fr. Le Mythe de Sysyphe, Ro. Mitul lui Sisif (Camus); Fr. J’accuse, Ro. Acuz (Zola); - a complex sentence: Fr. Mais, maman, ils nous racontent au deuxième acte ce qui s’est passé au premier, Ro. Bine, mamă, da’ ăútia ne povestesc în actu doi ce se-ntâmplă-n actu-ntâi (Visniec). The journey of ergonyms in translation is not always without incident upon delivery, as it is in the case of the translation of some of Perrault’s stories: Fr. La Belle et la Bête Le chat botté Le petit chaperon rouge Cendrillon La belle au bois dormant

En. Beauty and the Beast Puss in Boots Little Red Riding Hood Cinderella The Sleeping Beauty

Ro. Frumoasa úi bestia Motanul încălĠat ScufiĠa Roúie Cenuúăreasa Frumoasa din pădurea adormită

Beyond its semantic function, a title is also the proper name of a literary work, marking it as different from other works, other texts and other artistic products. The title of the film Dancing North, derived from the Italian meta-novel or meta-screenplay Dancing Nord. Viaggio tra gli inuit del Canada (Rinaldis), shows that the editorial choice is done to distinguish the book, the screenplay and the film through a minimalist brand ensured by the spelling of “North-Nord,” which could also establish at the same time the confrontation of the two worlds that deal with the cultural products in question. The translator of the novel Dancing North/Nord will choose between the non-translation of the title (not

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untranslatabble, but assum med non-tran nslatability) annd the perlocutionary translation. c of ergony nyms, where the t report There arre situations, even in the case (Fr. Ponts ddes Arts, ğepeeneag) and the semantic literalness (En.. Therapy 1995, Fr. Laa Thérapie, Roo. Terapia, Lo odge; Fr. Le T Testament fran nçais, Ro. Testamentull francez, Maakine; L’Isola fatale [Fr. L L’Île fatale, Ro. R Insula fatală, Rinaaldis) are nonn-time-consum ming choicess. However, there are titles whosee evoking effeect is less obv vious. For exaample, It. Ven nto largo, explained byy Biamonti inn the glossary y of Liguriann and Provenccal terms, 7 located at thhe end of the novel, n is tran nsferred througgh phrasal equ uivalence into Fr. Vennt largue andd in Ro. Vântt larg (‘wide wind’). It iss literally transferred into French and explaineed by critics and translato ors8 as a nd unsettling . The translaation into marine winnd that is unppredictable an b literally and semanticcally; the marrine term Romanian ccan be done both vânt larg (‘w wide wind’) actually defin nes a “wind th that blows tow wards the broadside aand four rhum mbs behind the t broadsidee” (Ionescu 1982, 1 my translation).9 Still, the perrlocutionary effect e seems ccompletely ov versighted b through thiss process. Onlly translators can decide whether to su bside—or not?—in thee favour of loyalty to authors (as in the solution previously p discussed) oor to serve the target readerss. The titlee of the story Papuciada (ssau istoria arm matei bravulu ui căpitan Papuc) [The Slipperade (or the Histo ory of the Brrave Captain Slipper’s Camil Petrescu, has a similar translation journey. Papuciada (a Army)] by C kind of Odyyssey withoutt the glory)— —the title creaated by the author a by using papucc (‘slipper’ < tt.) t and crucia adă (‘crusade’’)—is reported d into Fr., Papuciade, graphically annd phonetically adapted. Thhis non-transllation has onary and a predictablle effect—thee omission off the locutionnary, illocutio perlocutionaary effects. Thhe transfer in nto Fr. of the proper name from Fr. ‘to cover,’ babouche (< < tt., < persan , form med with ‘leeg’ and see also TLF Fi) and croisaade, would leaad to: Babouchheade (ou l’histoire de l’armée du bbrave capitainne Babouche)..10 7

“Vènt-larg:: (provenzale) letteralmente, vento largo. Vento di maree, a largo raggio ; cambbia sovente direezione e inquieeta i naviganti. È detto anche ‘largado’” (Biamonti 1994: 109). 8 “Le vent larrgue est en Proovence un air marin m plein de ffougue et de caaprice dans ses brusquess changements de direction” (Saundersen 1993); a “ven nt marin.” Tramuta (19993) translates thhe explanation given g by Biamoonti (1991: 109)). 9 The same definition can be found in Munteanu’s M Ma Marinărie: manu ual pentru liceele cu prof ofil de marină [S Seamanship: a textbook t for seaamanship high--schools]. 10 For the usee of the word baabouche, see alsso Nodier, Histtoire du Roi de Bohème B et ces sept châteeaux (1830: 3222-323).

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For a toponym that functions as an ergonym, the report can be unsatisfactory. In this manner, the title of ğepeneag’s novel, Maramureú (a county in the north of Romania, considered the topographic centre of Europe) is transferred into Fr. Au Pays de Maramures (2001), hinting directly at Carroll’s “Wonderland.” Another novel title by the same Romanian author, Zadarnică e arta fugii, is literally-semantically transferred into American English Vain Art of the Fugue, but the play on words and the polysemy of the Romanian word fugă (‘run’) are recreated by the French translators who are inspired enough to combine arpèges and pièges in Arpièges. Rien ne sert de courir, compensating for the polysemy of the Ro. fugă ‘fugue’ and ‘fuite.’ It can be observed that anthroponyms from literary texts are not transferred automatically, not even if they are accompanied by appellatives, although the custom is to transfer them through semantic equivalents—Fr. Le Neveau de Rameau, It. Il nipote di Rameau, Ro. Nepotul lui Rameau; Fr. La Cousine Bette, En. Cousin Bette, It. La cugina Bette, Ro. Veriúoara Bette; Fr. Père Goriot, It. Il padre Goriot, Sp. El padre Goriot, Ro. Moú Goriot. One can notice the preservation of the Pn (patronyms or forenames) that are accompanied by translated appellatives—Goriot, Bette, Rameau, etc. Nevertheless, there are exceptions—Fr. Oncle Anghel by Panait Istrati, translated into Ro. Moú Anghel, not by using the semantic equivalent unchi (‘uncle’) (as in Fr. Oncle Vania, Ro. Unchiul Vania by Cehov), which is chosen, however, in Catalan, El Tion Anghel, It. Lo zio Anghel, En. Uncle Anghel. Literary or not, titles are a continuous challenge. Considering that the use of these terms—“proper noun” or “proper name”—is not always equivalent, neither in grammar and linguistics nor in onomastics, as their objectives and perspectives are not identical (Leroy 2004: 30), it seems appropriate for two things to be mentioned. The first refers to the status of the title of the book on translation theory Le Nom propre en traduction by Michel Ballard, which is a noun or a proper name, an ergonym. The second refers to the translational intention. Without summarising the research done on nouns or proper names, it must be mentioned—not wishing to alter the orientation of the translated text—that the Romanian research in this field classifies proper names as nouns, as an independent nominal class, as nominal substitutes (alongside pronouns) or as pertaining to various onomastic subclasses (Tomescu 1998: 3-15).

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Terms such as “proper nouns”11 and “proper names”12 are found in Romanian grammatical terminology. The term already established in onomastics has been chosen here, much to the disadvantage of the other one used especially in grammars, so Fr. nom was used through its equivalent “name,” although—according to Romanian grammars and even to the content of the translated text—“noun” would have been at least equally adequate, as not all proper names in French are proper names in Romanian, not even proper nouns for that matter (for example un Français/un francez ‘a Frenchman’), while other proper names originally are common nouns. The title of E. Labiche’s vaudeville, Embrassons-nous, Folleville, is easy to transfer into other languages through the literal translation or report of the proper name: ST: Le vaudeville de Eugène Labiche Embrassons-nous, Folleville est paru en 1850 TT(Ro): Vaudevilul Sa ne îmbratisam, Folleville de Eugène Labiche a aparut în 1850 11

Cf., among others, I. Manliu and Ioan Slavici, Curs practic úi gradat de gramatică română (1900: 15); D. Macrea, Gramatica limbii române (1954: 124); Iorgu Iordan and Vladimir Robu, Limba română contemporană (1978: 368); Dumitru Irimia, Structura gramaticală a limbii române. Numele úi pronumele. Adverbul, “having only form and not meaning, proper nouns only designate” (1976: 37), “proper names are incompatible with determination by means of indefinite article” (ibid.: 38), “phonetically, feminine proper nouns have no phonetic alternations as common nouns have in each grammatical case” (ibid.: 49); Dimitrie Macrea, Limba română (1956: 71). 12 See Titu Maiorescu, Despre descrierea limbei rumâne (1866: 7, 31, 44, 59, 62, 68); I. Manliu, Ioan Slavici, Curs practic úi gradat de gramatică română (Socec & Comp, 1900: 130, 186, 188); NP (exactly with this abbreviation, p. 210) in Limba română (Institutul de Lingvistică Bucureúti, 1966: 209-211); Al. Graur, Mic tratat de ortografie (Bucureúti: Editura ùtiinĠifică, 1974: 54, 102, 132); in Cercetări de lingvistică (vol. 32-36, Institutul “Iorgu Iordan,” Academia RSR, 1987: 162, 179, 171 sqq.); Gramatica limbii române (Bucureúti, Editura Academiei RPR, 1963: 88, 89, 102 sqq.); Eugen Câmpeanu, Substantivul: studiu stilistic (Bucureúti, Editura ùtiinĠifică úi Enciclopedică, 1975: 102): “proper names are indicative, the common ones are significant”; Iorgu Iordan believes that a “great part of the proper names” are “isolated appellations, having, that is, one special meaning, applied to only one object or only one being.” (Scrieri alese, Editura Academiei RSR, 1968: 184); Probleme de logică, vol. 9 (Editura Academiei RSR, 1986: 38): “proper names are symbols; either semi-motivated […] or arbitrary. When they are used in the presence of objects, in pragmatic contexts, proper names work, mostly, as indicative signs and signals (vocative, imperative).”

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TT (It): […] Abbracciamoci, Folleville […]

However, its recontextualisation makes the translation troublesome. Here are two instances of recontextualisation: Cet “Embrassons-nous, Folleville ,” aussi soudain que de commande, nous met mal à l’aise. (J-C Maurice, Journal du Dimanche, 21 nov. 2000) Embrassons-nous, Folleville. Chahutés par la crise économique, les leaders du G20 ont fait jeudi, 2 avril à Londres, une belle démonstration d’unité. (Marc Roche, “Pendant ces temps, les traders de la City ont la tête ailleurs,” dans Le Monde, samedi 4 avril 2009, 6)

Depending on the context, author’s intentions, purpose of the ST and the TT, and on recipients, the ergonym reinvested with the meaning that suited the vaudeville, in this case, could be semantically but not formally transferred through: (1) Latin nolens-volens; (2) the Romanian equivalent collocation vrei nu vrei […]; (3) Ro. Să treci prin furcile caudine la […] (from Lat. furculae caudinae); (4) the idiomatic phrase Vrei, nu vrei, bea, Grigore, agheasmă, good enough to transfer the perlocutionary effect but not the locutionary effect.

Conclusion It is desired that the relation established between the writer, the translator and the intended reader be similar to the one between the author and their source reader. In order to reach this objective, any means of translation seems justified—literal translation, report, adaptation, creation of new Pn or new ergonyms—as long as the end result corresponds and lives up to the expectations and the multiple translational intentions developed in the field of translation—psychological, semantic, cultural, ideological.

References Ballard, M. 2011. Numele proprii în traducere [2001. Le Nom propre en traduction. Pari: Ophrys]. G. Lungu-Badea (trans.). Timiúoara: Editura UniversităĠii de Vest. Delisle, J. 2003. La Traduction raisonnée, 2nd edition. Ottawa: Presses de l’Université d’Ottawa. Frege, F.L.G. 1971. Sens et Dénotation. In Gottlob Frege. Écrits Logiques et Philosophiques, C. Imbert (trans.), 102-126. Paris: Seuil.

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Galisson, R., and J.-C. André. 1998. Dictionnaire de noms de marques courants. Essai de lexiculture ordinaire. Paris: Didier Erudition Gary-Prieur, M.-N. 1994. Grammaire du nom propre. Paris: PUF. Hoek, L. 1981. La marque du titre. Paris: Mouton. Ionescu, Gh. 1982. DicĠionar marinăresc. Bucureúti: Editura Albatros. Kéchichian, P. 1993. Le Passeur mélancolique. Le Monde (August). Kleiber, G. 1981. Problèmes de référence. Descriptions définies et noms propres. Paris: Klincksieck. Kripke, S. 1982. La Logique des noms propres. Paris: Éditions de Minuit. Leroy, S. 2004. Le nom propre en français. Paris: Editions Ophrys. Lungu-Badea, G. 1999. Les Titres: fonctions et rôles dans la traduction. Buletinul ùtiinĠific al UPT, Limbi moderne 44 (58): 41-44. —. 2004. Teoria culturemelor, teoria traducerii. Timiúoara: Editura UniversităĠii de Vest. —. 2009a. Quelques questions concernant la traduction des noms propres: application au roumain. In La Traduction: philosophie, linguistique et didactique, T. Miliaressi (ed.), 249-252. Lille: Université Charles de Gaulle-Lille3, collection UL3 ‘Travaux et Recherches.’ —. 2009b. Remarques sur le concept de culturème. Translationes 1: 1578. Timiúoara: Editura UniversităĠii de Vest. —. 2011a. Un panorama de la traduction roumaine des noms propres (roumain-français). In De la linguistique à la traductologie, T. Milliaressi (ed.). Presses Universitaires du Septentrion. —. 2011b. La traduction (im)propre des noms propres litteraires. Translationes 3. —. 2012. Traduire les effets d’évocation des culturèmes: une aporie? In Des Mots aux actes. ‘Jean-René Ladmiral: une œuvre en movement,’ 3: 289-308. Paris: Éditions Anagrammes. Mill, J.S. 1988 (1843). Système de logique dans Système de logique inductive et déductive: exposé des principes de la preuve. LiègesBruxelles: Pierre Mardaga, éditeur. Raskin, L. 2003-2004. De la traduction des noms propres. Anales des Filologia Francesca 12: 371-383. Saundersen, E. 1993. /DWHUUHJDVWH. La Croix -XQH . Sublet, J. 1991. Le voile du nom. Essai sur le nom propre arabe. Paris: PUF. Tomescu, D. 1998. Gramatica numelor proprii în limba română. Bucureúti: ALL Educational. Tramuta, M.-J. 1993. La Quinzaine littéraire (December).

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Online documents Lexique des termes marins. http://www.mandragore2.net/dico/lexique1/ lexique1.php?page=r. (accessed October 2012). Maurel, D., and M. Tran. 2005. 8QH RQWRORJLH PXOWLOLQJXH GHV QRPV SURSUHV ,Q Corela. Numéros spéciaux: Le traitement lexicographique des noms propres. http://edel.univ-poitiers.fr/corela/document.php? id=460 (accessed May 21, 2008). Plato. Cratylus. http://philosophy.eserver.org/plato/cratylus.txt. (accessed October 2012).

Corpus Balzac, H. de. 1992. Cousin Bette. S. Raphael (trans.). Oxford: Oxford Press University. Biamonti, F. 1994 (1991). Vento largo. Torino: Giulio Einaudi editore. (1993. Vent largue. B. Simeone (trans.). Éditions Verdier). &RQGHHVFX11&XYkQWXOWUDGXFăWRUXOXL,Q*DUJDQWXDúL Pantagruel, F. Rabelais. A. Hodoú (ed.), 31-35. Chiúinău: Editura Hyperion. Djuvara, N. 1975. Civilisations et lois historiques. Essai d’étude comparée des civilisations. Paris/La Haye: Djuvara et Moutton et Cie. —. 2007. CivilizaĠii úi tipuri istorice. Un studiu comparat al civilizaĠiilor. ù. Broché (trans.). Bucureúti: Humanitas, Istrati, P. 2008. Kyra Kyralina y El Tion Anghel. Valencia: Editorial PreTextos. Lodge, D. 1995. Therapy. London: Penguin Books. [2004. Thérapie. S.V. Mayoux (trans.). Rivages poches/Bibliothèque étrangère, 2002. Terapia. R. Paraschivescu (trans). Iaúi: Editura Polirom]. Makine, A. 1995. Le Testament français. Paris: Gallimard [2002. Testamentul francez. V. Baciu (trans.). Iaúi: Editura Polirom]. Nodier, C. 1830. Histoire du Roi de Bohème et ces sept châteaux. Paris: Delangle Frères Éditeurs-Libraires. Rabelais, F. 1945. Gargantua et Pantagruel. M.J. Garros (trans.). Paris: Librairie Gründ. —. 1993. Gargantua úi Pantagruel. A. Hodoú (ed.) Chiúinău: Editura Hyperion. Rinaldis, A. 1999. Dancing Nord. Viaggio tra gli inuit del Canada. Torino: E.D.T. Edizione di Torino. —. 2012 (2006). L’Isola fatale. In Translationes 4/2012. Viennepierre Edizioni.

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Tsepeneag, D. 1973. Arpièges. Rien ne sert de courir. Traduit du roumain par A. Paruit. Paris Flammarion [1991. Zadarnica e arta fugii. Bucureúti: Editura Albatros 2007. Vain Art of the Fugue. P. Camiller (trans.). Dalkey Archive Press]. ğepeneag, D. 2001. Maramureú. Cluj-Napoca: Editura Dacia. [2001. Au pays de Maramureú. A. Paruit (trans.). Paris: P.O.L. editeur.] Visniec, M. 2004. Mais, maman, ils nous racontent au deuxième acte ce qui s’est passé au premier. Paris: L’Espace d’un instant, coll. ‘Maison d’Europe’. Voltaire. 1979. Candide ou l’optimisme. A. Magnan (ed.). Paris: Bordas, —. 1988. Candido ovvero l’ottimismo. R. Baccheli (trans.). Milano: Arnoldo Mondadori Eitore S.p.A. —. 1990. Candide ou l’optimisme. J. Goldzink (ed.). Librairie Larousse. —. 1991. Candide. S. Appelbaum (ed.). Mineola N. Y.: Dover Thrift Editions. —. 1993. Candid sau optimismul. Al. Philippide (trans.). Chiúinău: Editura Hyperion. —. 1994. Micromégas. Zadig. Candide. Paris: Flammarion. —. 2001. Cándido o el optimismo. In Voltaire. Cándido. Micromegas. Zadig E. Diego (trans. and ed.), 57-169. Madrid: Catedra, ‘Letras Universales’. —. 2005. Candide or Optimism. R. Burton (trans.). New Haven: Yale University Press.

SECTION FOUR: NICKNAMES/BYNAMES/PSEUDONYMS IN THE WORLD OF POLITICS, HIGH-LIFE, ART AND SPORT

NICKNAMES OF FOOTBALL CHAMPIONS IN ITALY DANIELA CACIA

Fans know many Italian football champions by their nickname. Simply browse through a sports newspaper or watch a football chronicle for a lengthy and mind numbing array of nicknames: Aeroplanino (‘airplane,’ for Vincenzo Montella1), Formica Atomica (‘Atom Ant,’ for Sebastian Giovinco2), Matrix (Marco Materazzi3), Super Mario (Mario Balotelli4), Trilly Campanellino (‘Trilly Tinkerbell,’ for Andrea Pirlo5). This is an ageold tradition; just think of the nicknames attributed to famous players in the past: Balilla (Giuseppe Meazza6), Bell’Antonio (‘beautiful Antonio,’ for Antonio Cabrini7), Golden boy (Gianni Rivera8), Picinin9 (Franco Baresi10), Ragno nero (‘black spider,’ for Fabio Cudicini11). This nickname is used with the player’s official name, irrespective of changes of team and/or country and it is occasionally heard abroad. For example, there was an article about Alessandro Del Piero12 in the English newspaper The 1

Former striker, current coach of Fiorentina. Juventus striker. 3 Former defender, known for the famous head-butt into the chest he received from Zinedine Zidane during the final match of the 2006 World Cup between Italy and France. 4 Manchester City player, of Italian nationality. 5 Current Juventus midfielder after many years playing for Milan (2001-2011). 6 He was a football player and then a football coach (1910-1979), a world champion with the Italian national team in 1934 and 1938. In 1980, the stadium of Milan was named after him. 7 Juventus defender from 1976 to 1989 and ten times captain of the Italian national team. 8 Giovanni Rivera, called Gianni, wore the Milan jersey between 1960 and 1979. He is considered one of the best Italian football players of all time. 9 A word from the Lombard dialect meaning ‘small boy.’ 10 One of the few Italian players loyal to the same team for over twenty years (Milan). 11 Goalkeeper for Rome, Brescia and Milan in the sixties and seventies. 12 Captain of Juventus from 2001 to 2012. 2

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Telegraph (January 21, 2000): “No player in Italy’s squad arouses quite the same passions as the man they call Pinturicchio, after a Renaissance painter famed for his delicate frescoes.” This custom includes foreign players on Italian teams: Imperatore (‘the emperor,’ Adriano13), Marekiaro14 (Marek Hamsik15) and Janku (Marek Jankulovski16). Foreign nicknames of players who come to Italy can be used as well (Álvaro Alexander Recoba Rivero, Uruguayan, called el chino ‘the Chinese’ due to his oriental facial features17). Sometimes these are translated (Germán Gustavo Denis, Argentinian, nicknamed el tanque ‘tank,’ is called carro armato18 in Italy), or even rejected and replaced (Julio Ricardo Cruz, striker for Inter, known as el jardinero ‘the gardener’ in Argentina but called Poncharello in Italy). We make some preliminary observations based on this brief survey. There follow some specific considerations on the extent of semantic transparency of nicknames found and the most frequent nickname types.

Narrowing the survey The corpus consists of approximately 150 nicknames used in Italy for both Italian and foreign football players. Nicknames from abroad such as el chino or el tanque have not been included. The data comes from the archives of the most popular sports newspapers available online and in Italian sports magazines. The nicknames used in football commentaries, often thought up by sports commentators, were included in the corpus only if they received official recognition in the press and/or fan communities.19 Thus we exclude occasional nicknames, made up by imaginative reporters on the spur of the moment and no longer used. A synchronic approach sheds light on the original reasons for the nickname, through explanations provided by the 13

Adriano Leite Ribeiro, Brazilian striker, played on several Italian football teams. “Marechiaro” in Italian, meaning ‘clear seas’ in English. 15 Current Slovak midfielder playing for Naples. 16 Czech defender on several Italian teams (Naples, Udinese and Milan). 17 La Stampa (October 21, 2009): “non dovevamo prendere Recoba. Non mi sono imposto e lì sono nati i problemi perché il chino non ci serviva e ha rotto gli equilibri” [we shouldn’t have taken Recoba. I did not impose myself and problems started because we didn’t need il chino and he upset the balance]. 18 La Stampa (November 21, 2011): “Denis, il ‘carro armato’ che fa strada all’Atalanta … Nessuno pensava a German Denis, ‘il tanque’ argentino. Nessuno tranne lui” [Denis “carro armato” is is the top-goalscorer for Atalanta. […] No one believed in German Denis, the Argentinian “tanque.” No one but the manager]. 19 Surveyed through the official websites of the major Italian football teams. 14

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creators themselves. See the comments20 made by Roberto Scarpini, historically established sports commentator on the Inter Channel (quotes 1 and 2), and by Carlo Pellegatti, sports journalist on the Milan Channel (quote 3): (1) Matrix (Materazzi) “Il soprannome gliel’ho messo io e ne sono molto orgoglioso. Mi sa che chiedo il copyright […]. L’ho chiamato Matrix perché l’ho visto subito con qualità quasi sovrannaturali, come Keanu Reeves nel film. Un supereroe.”21 (2) Poncharello (Cruz) “Perché è identico a Frank Poncharello, il poliziotto moro della fortunata serie di telefilm ‘Chips.’ Una somiglianza incredibile, così ‘el jardinero’ è passato in secondo piano.”22 (3) Trilly Campanellino (Pirlo) “La fatina di Peter Pan resa famosa da Walt Disney. Si muove in una scia di luce e stelline, arriva dall’Isola che non c’è e lascia un alone di magia.”23

The international success of the The Matrix science fiction film, written and directed by the Wachowski brothers in 1999, gives the nickname a high degree of semantic transparency. The small winged fairy created in 1911 by J.M. Barrie, with the name of Tinker Bell in the original English version and known as Campanellino in Italy, became, owing to Disney’s 1953 animation in particular, Trilli24 or Trilly (equally rooted in the public imagination). Combining both names into a single nickname (Trilly Campanellino) leaves no room for doubt.

Semantic transparency of nicknames Italians, even those who do not share a passion for football, easily understand most players’ nicknames. Sometimes, however, the meaning of

20

Gazzetta dello Sport newspaper (March 11, 2007). [I gave him this nickname and I am proud of it. I think I should file for copyright registration […]. I called him Matrix because I saw his almost supernatural qualities right away, just like Keanu Reeves in the film. A superhero.] 22 [Because he is identical to Frank Poncharello, the dark-haired policeman of the hit television series “Chips.” It is an uncanny resemblance, so the nickname “el jardinero” has come off second best.] 23 [The fairy from Walt Disney’s Peter Pan. He moves in a stream of light and stars, he comes from Never Never Land and leaves a magic halo.] 24 The name Trilly appears in the book written by J.M. Barrie as a hypocoristic of Tinker Bell. For further information on onomastics and toponymy in children’s literature, see Carosella (2010). 21

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a nickname is only understood by the community of fans that created it. Therefore, there are three levels of semantic transparency: (1) nicknames with generic semantic transparency (2) nicknames with sectoral semantic transparency (3) opaque or non-transparent nicknames. Nicknames in the first group are based on the common cultural heritage of contemporary Italian society. These—such as Matrix and Trilly Campanellino—refer to elements, concepts or real or invented characters. This category includes Imperatore, from the ruler of ancient Rome with the same name as the player who was given this nickname (Adriano), and Pinturicchio, in relation to the famous Renaissance painter. The latter nickname refers to Alessandro Del Piero and it was created by industrialist Gianni Agnelli,25 president of Juventus at the time, who also came up with another nickname for Del Piero, Godot, when he missed a goal: Godot è arrivato. Atteso, invocato e sognato, ma il primo gol di Alessandro Del Piero nella nuova casa bianconera non poteva che maturare nel giorno dedicato all’Avvocato. Il suo primo tifoso, che lo accostò al personaggio più celebre di Samuel Beckett, ieri sera avrebbe apprezzato la prodezza che riscrive la storia della Juve e del suo capitano26 (La Stampa January 25, 2012).

In the second group, we include nicknames with semantic transparency exclusive to football fans who know the physical characteristics and attitudes of their heroes on the field. Fans know Vincenzo Montella as Aeroplanino because before his recent retirement from football, he mimicked the flight of an airplane after each goal. Formica Atomica was inspired by the cartoon character, Atom la formica atomica (the original name is Atom Ant), created by the Hanna-Barbera production company in 25

Gazzetta dello Sport newspaper (May 14, 2012): “Sono lontani i tempi in cui l’Avvocato Agnelli gli affibbiò il nomignolo di ‘Pinturicchio,’ pittore rinascimentale. Lo fece per differenziarlo da Baggio, che l’Avvocato chiamava Raffaello” [Gone are the days when Lawyer Agnelli gave nicknames like “Pinturicchio,” the Renaissance painter. He did it to differentiate the footballer from Baggio, whom the Lawyer called “Raffaello.”] 26 [Godot has arrived. Although expected, dreamed and invoked, the first goal from Alessandro Del Piero in the new Juventus could not happen on the day dedicated to the lawyer. His biggest fan, who compared him to Samuel Beckett’s most famous character, would have appreciated last night’s feat, which rewrites the history of Juventus and its captain.]

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1965. The unlikely adventures of this tiny ant with superhuman strength were broadcast in Italy in 1978; it has recently been aired on some satellite TV channels. The nickname was given to Sebastian Giovinco because of his short stature combined with his exceptional speed of movement. The nickname was adopted by the player and the Juventus fan community, as confirmed by its use on Sebastian Giovinco’s profile on the official team website: Estro, fiuto del gol, dribbling fulmineo, rapidità di movimenti, visione di gioco, piedi raffinati... Ad elencare le qualità di Sebastian Giovinco si rischia di comporre una lista troppo lunga e probabilmente inutile […]. I due anni trascorsi a Parma, specie l’ultima stagione, non hanno fatto altro che confermare il talento della “Formica Atomica.”27 (www.juventus.com)

This category also includes nicknames based on players’ real names. The name or surname may be shortened (Janku), enhanced by an appreciative prefix (Super Mario) or become the basis for expressions (Bell’Antonio) and compounds (Marekiaro). Nationality is sometimes used, for example: Furia Ceca (‘Czech fury,’ for Pavel NedvƟd,28 of Czech nationality), Il Cigno di Utrecht (‘the swan of Utrecht,’ for Marcel van Basten, known as Marco van Basten,29 born in the city of Utrecht), l’Aquila di Patrasso (‘the eagle of Patras,’ for Grigorios Georgatos, sports manager and former player of Greek origin). Epithets become less transparent with the passage of time, as the link between nicknames and their origin fades. This happens firstly because nicknames have a limited validity, temporally speaking. For example, Fabio Cudicini was called Ragno nero because he had the habit of wearing a suit with black tights and, when he stood in the goal area, he looked like a spider in a web.30 The nickname’s meaning was explicit for fans at the

27

[Creativity, a flair for goals, lightning-like dribbling, fast movements, vision and fine feet […]. If we were to list the qualities of Sebastian Giovinco, the list would be endless and most likely unnecessary […]. His two years with Parma, especially the last season, merely confirmed the talent of the “Formica Atomica.”] 28 Former footballer, played midfield for two well-known Italian soccer teams (Lazio and Juventus). 29 Coach and former football player, he played for Milan from 1987 to 1995. 30 The epithet was given during an intense clash between Manchester and Milan in the semi-final of the 1969 European Cup. In an Interview on the origin of the nickname, Cudicini said: “Io portavo la tuta completamente nera. Di qui l’appellativo. Quella battaglia con il Manchester, con il Ragno nero, non l’ha dimenticata nessuno” [I wore a completely black suit. This is where the nickname

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time, but now, a few decades after the player retired, the semantic origin is unclear. Secondly, the degree of transparency depends on geolinguistic factors and specifically on the dialect in which the nickname was created. In the corpus, we encounter nicknames expressed in Italian through lexemes that have now disappeared from contemporary language and nicknames partially or fully expressed in dialect. With regard to the former, we observe that at times the lexemes used frequently in a certain cultural and historical period lose effect, disappear from use and, consequently, from the consciousness of the majority of speakers. This may be the case of Balilla. In 1927, when the young Giuseppe Meazza debuted on the Inter team at only 17 years of age, he was given the nickname Balilla by a teammate. At the time, this word was used for boys between the ages of eight and fourteen in the Opera Nazionale Balilla (Italian Fascist youth organisation established in 1926) that were undergoing paramilitary training. It came from the nickname31 of a boy from Genoa, Giovanni Battista Perasso, known as Balilla, who in 1746 started the revolt against the Austrian regime that occupied the city. The semantic transparency of nicknames that are partially or fully in dialect require specific language skills that are often exclusive to the community that created the name. Franco Baresi’s nickname Picinin is derived from a word of the Lombard dialect meaning ‘small boy’: the player was initially rejected by Inter because he was considered too frail. The expression El segna semper lü (meaning ‘he always scores’) was given to Maurizio Ganz32 by Inter fans in Lombard dialect. Er chiacchiera, er pupone, core de Roma are from the Roman dialect. Simone Pepe, the Juventus midfielder born in Albano Laziale in the province of Rome, was given the nickname Er chiacchiera (meaning

comes from. Nobody has forgotten about that battle with Manchester, with the Black Spider.] The transcript of the interview is available online (http://www.sportmediaset.mediaset.it/calcio/articoli/articolo29998.shtml). 31 During Fascism the nickname was both a male and a female name (Rossebastiano and Papa 2005: s.v. Balilla). 32 Corriere della Sera newspaper (December 17, 1997), during the transfer of Ganz from Inter to Milan: “El segna semper lü, lo striscione dedicato a Maurizio Ganz, che dal febbraio scorso era esposto sul secondo anello della curva interista, è stato malinconicamente arrotolato” [El segna semper lü, the banner dedicated to Maurizio Ganz, on display on the second ring of the Inter curve since last February, was sadly rolled.]

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‘chatterbox’). This alludes to the player’s fluidity of speech and his habit of frequently speaking in the dialect of Rome.33 The current captain of Roma, Francesco Totti, is called er pupone (meaning ‘little boy’) by fans and sports reporters, because he celebrates each goal by putting a finger in his mouth, as children do with pacifiers.34 Giacomo Losi, Roma captain between 1954 and 1969, earned the nickname core de Roma, or rather ‘heart of Rome,’ which is explicit for anyone who knows the dialect of the city. Nicknames in Southern dialects include Palo ‘e fierro and the more recent arrogu tottu. Palo ‘e fierro (‘iron pole’) was given by fans to Giuseppe Bruscolotti, defender of Naples in the sixties and seventies, for his physical mass and strength. Arrogu tottu is Sardinian for ‘he smashes everything.’ Attacker Antonio Langella earned this nickname when he played for Cagliari. The origin of the nickname is explained in the following extract taken from an article of the La Stampa newspaper (December 7, 2004): “Arrogu tottu, arrogu,” “Spacca tutto, spacca.” Langella bruciò Materazzi, procurandosi un rigore. Poi umiliò Burdisso, infilando Toldo. Infine, spinto dall’afflato dell’Arrogu tottu, seminò i bracconieri recapitando sulla testa di Esposito la colomba del 3-1.35

There is no shortage of nicknames that are partially or fully expressed in languages other than Italian. In these cases, however, their transparency emerged in English, the international language. Some examples include: Golden boy (Gianni Rivera), Scooter (Francesco Turrini36), the Wall (Samuel Walter Adrian37). 33

La Stampa newspaper (June 17, 2010): “Simone Pepe ha fatto vedere perché piace a Del Neri […] e ieri a Casa Azzurri s’è capito perché lo chiamano ‘er chiacchiera’. Ha battute da cabaret, con istintivi sconfinamenti nel romanesco” [Simone Pepe showed us why Del Neri likes him [...] and yesterday at the Italian headquarters, we understood why they call him “er chiacchiera.” He tells funny Roman jokes with flair] 34 La Stampa newspaper (June 27, 2006): “ha segnato Er Pupone” [Er Pupone scored]. 35 [“Arrogu tottu, arrogu,” “Smash everything, smash.” Langella stung Materazzi, earning a penalty. Then he humiliated Burdisso, piercing Toldo. Finally, prompted by Arrogu tottu’s inspiration, he sowed the poachers by delivering a 3-1 on the head of Esposito.] 36 Former footballer, midfielder. He acquired the nickname during his years in Naples (1996-2000). 37 Defender for Inter, from Argentina.

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Nickname types Nicknames defy any attempt at complete and unambiguous classification.38 Indeed, they represent a livelier name-giving tradition that is continuously and rapidly changing. Unlike surnames, which are passed down from generation to generation, nicknames generally have a short life and change over time, as in the case of Alessandro Del Piero who had different nicknames at different times in his football career (Pinturicchio and Godot). Epithets often belong to different typological categories. For example, the nickname Formica Atomica may be: a nickname related to the physical characteristics of the person (height); a nickname that refers to aptitudes shown on the field (speed of movement); a nickname inspired by invented characters (the atomic ant cartoon character). Therefore, we adopt a semantic and motivation-related criterion and a sufficiently broad classification to allow for successive integrations, both in light of a possible extension of the sources examined and in light of new nicknames that may appear in football reports in the meantime.

Nicknames based on specific behaviour and skills The majority of nicknames given to players refer to their behaviour during a game or, to a lesser extent, off the football field (such as er chiacchiera). Post-goal celebratory gestures (Aeroplanino, er pupone) or distinctive qualities, such as physical strength (Palo ‘e fierro), precision (Metronomo ‘metronome,’ the nickname of Demetrio Albertini,39 referring to the musical time measuring device) and speed (Pendolino, the name of a high speed train used in Italy, given to Marcos Evangelista de Moraes, better known as Cafu40), capture the public’s imagination. Special qualities hinting 38

Among the numerous classification proposals see Rohlfs (1984) and Ruffino (1988). 39 Sports manager and former football player. La Stampa (December 22, 2003): “Albertini, solito metronomo, si pianta nel centro della sua numerosa mediana e da lì detta le operazioni” [Albertini, the metronome, stands in the middle of his numerous median and he directs operations from there]. 40 Brazilian-born defender, active in Italy from 1997 to 2008 (Lazio and Milan). La Stampa (April 22, 2007): “L’azione parte dai piedi di Seedorf che serve Cafu. L’ex Pendolino interviene in scivolata e ruba il pallone a Del Grosso” [The action starts from Seedorf’s feet who serves Cafu. The former Pendolino slides in and steals the ball from Del Grosso].

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at concrete objects, as in the cases just mentioned, or at offices and professions may be legitimate (il generale ‘the general’—Mark van Bommel,41 lo sceriffo ‘the sheriff’—Vittorio Mero42) or non-legitimate (the Killer—Miroslav Klose43). Special qualities may also be suggested by means of animal names (il pitone ‘the python’—Raffaele Biancolino,44 il giaguaro ‘the jaguar’—Luciano Castellini,45 Airone ‘heron,’ given to the striker Andrea Caracciolo46 for his post-goal cheer), general terms (Ringhio ‘snarl,’ the epithet attributed to Gennaro Gattuso,47 Schizzo ‘squirt’—Marco Tardelli48) or references to invented characters (Arsenio Lupin, conceived by Carlo Pellegatti for Milan player Massimo Ambrosini because “ruba i palloni a centrocampo come il ladro gentiluomo rubava per sé ma anche per i più bisognosi”49). Common nicknaming conventions are based on praise for a player’s gameplay with reference to another player. For example, Uruguayan Gonzalo Bueno was given the nickname il nuovo Lavezzi (‘the new Lavezzi’). From a morphological point of view, the nickname is a phrase 41

Dutch footballer active in Milan between 2011 and 2012. Brescia defender, who died prematurely in a car accident, earned the epithet “sheriff,” as is stated in an article published in the Corriere della Sera newspaper (January 24, 2002), for his commitment during the game and during training: “Lo «sceriffo» è morto […] il soprannome è di Nedo Sonetti, il tecnico della promozione in serie A di due stagioni fa: ‘Era un ragazzo corretto e umile, che metteva una grande determinazione in campo e negli allenamenti’” [The “sheriff” is dead […] Nedo Sonetti was a coach after being promoted to the A league two years ago: “He was a proper and humble boy who would put strong determination into his gameplay on the field and in training.”] 43 Lazio striker in 2011 and striker for the German national team. La Gazzetta dello Sport newspaper (October 5, 2011): “In Italy they have already nicknamed him the Killer for his deadly instinct in the goal net.” 44 Striker for Avellino. 45 Former football player; he played as a goalkeeper in Turin and Naples in the seventies and eighties. 46 La Repubblica newspaper (June 5, 2007): “Andrea Caracciolo, ‘l’airone’ per la sua esultanza a braccia aperte, è la grande scommessa della Sampdoria” [Andrea Caracciolo, “the heron” for his exultation with open arms, is the big bet of Sampdoria.] 47 He was transfered to the Swiss Sion in June 2012 after playing for years for Milan (from 1999 to 2012). 48 Football coach and former football player, was among the protagonists of the 1982 World Cup in Spain. The nickname comes from the player’s acceleration ability. 49 La Gazzetta dello Sport newspaper (March 11, 2007). [Steals the ball at midfield like the gentleman thief who stole for himself but also for the most needy.] 42

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consisting of “article + adjective + the name of another player” (il nuovo Vieira ‘the new Vieira’—Paul Labile Pogba,50 il piccolo Zidane ‘the small Zidane’). Alternatively, the string is made up of the name of another player, combined with a prepositional phrase with toponymic value, referring to the place of origin or the origin of the nickname (Maradona dei Balcani ‘Maradona of the Balkans,’ Mirko Vuþiniü51), or time of nicknaming (il Baresi del Terzo millennio ‘Baresi of the third millennium,’ Alessandro Nesta52).

Nicknames based on physical characteristics In general, nicknames derive from skin colour or other physical attributes. Somatic traits can be invoked either explicitly or implicitly. To illustrate the first subgroup, we will dust off the epithet Baffone ‘big moustache’ given to Paolo Conti53 for his thick moustache, and the famous Codino or even Divin Codino (‘pigtail,’ ‘divine pigtail’), nicknames by which Roberto Baggio54 was known because of the way he wore his long hair in a pigtail. Note that the nicknames survived the haircut. Sometimes, somatic features make metaphorical reference to animated (cinghiale ‘boar’ or cinghialone ‘big boar,’ given to Angelo Peruzzi55 for his considerable stature) or inanimate elements (Spillo ‘pin,’ given to Alessandro Altobelli56 for his slender body, similar to a pin57). This category includes nicknames that emphasise the similarity between a player and other celebrities, usually from the world of entertainment. The character invoked by the nickname can be real (Dustin, an epithet reserved for Roberto Antonelli58 for his similarity to the actor Dustin Hoffman) or fictional, such as characters from films (Jack Sparrow, 50

French footballer, current Juventus midfielder. Current Juventus striker. 52 Lazio (1993-2002) and Milan (2002-2012) defender. 53 Former football player from the seventies and eighties. 54 Sports manager and former striker of the leading Italian football teams. 55 Former football player, he played as a goalkeeper on several Italian teams, including Juventus and Lazio. 56 Milan goalkeeper from 1967 to 1972. 57 La Stampa newspaper (October 30, 2006): “Alessandro Altobelli diventa ‘Spillo’ per quel fisico lungo lungo e falsamente delicato che lo scorta come un mantello e sembra un grissino: o uno spillo, appunto” [Alessandro Altobelli was nicknamed “Pin” for being very tall and apparently delicate; his body “protects” him like a cloak and looks like a breadstick, or a pin] 58 Former midfielder in the seventies and eighties. 51

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the nickname given to Marco Borriello59 because of the similarity with Captain Jack Sparrow, played by Johnny Depp in the movie saga Pirates of the Caribbean), television series (the already mentioned Poncharello), children’s books and cartoons (Bagheera the Panther, the nickname conceived by Carlo Pellegatti for the black player Dida,60 with reference to the panther from The Jungle Book).

Nicknames based on personal data As mentioned previously, a player’s nickname may derive from their personal data; examples include Janku, Super Mario, Marekiaro, Il Cigno di Utrecht. First names or shortened hypocoristics of names may have a prefix of praise (SuperPippo for Filippo Inzaghi61), while the surname is usually changed by means of apocope (Chiello for Giorgio Chiellini62; Gila for Alberto Gilardino63). The alteration of the surname with the word “goal” is sometimes used for footballers’ nicknames (such as Batigoal given to Gabriel Batistuta64), as a form of praise and exhortation.

Conclusion Players’ nicknames are recognised by fans, sports journalists and players themselves. The nicknames of players on Italian teams have at least two specific traits, distinguishing them from nicknames attributed in other communities. Firstly, they alter more quickly with changing conditions, new contexts that spark fans’ imagination or expectations, or players’ preferences. Indeed, players may reject their assigned nickname and change it. For example, Roberto Scarpini said about the player Samuel Walter Adrian: “Lo chiamavano ‘The wall,’ il muro, ma a lui non piaceva così mi ha

59

Current Genoa striker was nicknamed Jack Sparrow when he played for Rome. Nelson de Jesus Silva, known under the pseudonym of Dida. La Gazzetta dello Sport (March 11, 2007; interview with Carlo Pellegatti): “è elegante e flessuoso come una pantera e io ho scelto quella simpatica del Libro della giungla” [is elegant and lithe like a panther, and I chose the likeable feline from The Jungle Book]  61 Current coach and former striker. In Italian, Pippo is short for Filippo. 62 Defender for Juventus and the Italian National team. 63 Striker for Bologna. 64 Former Argentine player, active in Italy during the 1990s. 60

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chiesto di cambiarlo. I compagni hanno cominciato a chiamarlo Wally, vezzeggiando il nome Walter”65 (La Gazzetta dello Sport March 11, 2007). Secondly, players’ nicknames in Italy are hardly ever derogatory. Nicknames generally praise, so as to enhance the player’s physical characteristics and quality of play. Thus, Italian nicknames are different from those in other countries, which are often offensive. This is clear by the nicknames assigned, at different times and in different countries, to Antonio Cassano66: el gordito (which means ‘chubby’) in Spain, during the militancy period with Real Madrid; FantAntonio (‘fantastic Antonio’) in Italy. Thus, from an onomastic point of view, the world of football is a very interesting microcosm that is worthy of further investigation.

References Carosella, M. 2010. Fairylandia. Personaggi e luoghi delle terre incantate. Saggi di onomastica e toponomastica fantastica. Roma: Aracne. Rohlfs, G. 1984. Soprannomi siciliani. Palermo: Centro di studi filologici e linguistici siciliani. Rossebastiano, A., and E. Papa. 2005. I nomi di persona in Italia. Dizionario storico ed etimologico. Torino: Utet. Ruffino, G. 1988. Soprannomi della Sicilia occidentale (tipi idiomatici, fonosimbolici e triviali). Onomata 12: 480-485.

65

[We called him “The wall,” but he was not pleased with it so he asked me to change it. His teammates started calling him Wally, based on his name Walter.] Note that Wally is derogatory in British English but not in Italian. 66 Current striker for Inter.

CONTEXTUAL VARIATION OF SURNAMES AND FIRST NAMES OF POLITICAL FIGURES IN ROMANIAN PUBLIC SPACE MARGARETA MANU MAGDA Preliminary considerations As regards the means of communication practised in post-communist Romania, one can observe that the configuration of language registers has been subject to a fundamental change that is visible especially in the various dimensions of public space. The transformation is marked by the adoption of patterns of social and communicative interaction that are completely different from previous ones and by the altered contextual repartition of these patterns (see Zafiu 2001a, 2001b, 2007, 2010). In this respect, there is recorded the tendency to extend colloquial language excessively to contexts in which the official register of language is supposed to be used (particularly in autochthonous written or spoken mass media). This leads to specific stylistic phenomena (functions/ dysfunctions) that on the level of discourse, refer to the modification of the system of address used in public space (see Felecan, D. 2011 Magda 2004 Manu Magda 2007, 2009). The present chapter aims at analysing certain aspects of the contextual variation of first names and surnames of political figures in contemporary Romanian public space. The author starts from the following general assertions: (1) The identification, in public communication, of a large number of variants of first names and surnames used to designate Romanian political figures. (2) The (more or less appropriate) association of the aforementioned variants with different linguistic and stylistic registers. Deviations from the principles of communication (those of cooperation and of politeness, along with the corresponding maxims) have unsettling effects on social communication (they trigger dysfunctions related to the proper perception of lexical and sociocultural meanings).

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The theoretical perspective adopted in this study is common to pragmatics and sociolinguistics, while the analysis of the phenomena investigated makes use of methods that pertain to French text linguistics and discourse analysis. The corpus (containing items that are relevant both to written and spoken language, standard and non-standard) was compiled from Internet resources.

Theoretical and methodological considerations Among the most important issues that sociolinguistics has approached, there is that of linguistic variation, which is determined by social factors and their invariants (in relation to a given community or individual behaviour). Thus, linguistic variation is, within the broader field of language sciences, a technical term. It refers to linguistic diversity in association with variables that are conditioned macro- and micro-socially, such as context, interlocutor, status, belonging to a group etc. The core law of sociolinguistics is that language in action serves as a means of communication that bears the print of the social context, in its capacity as a constituent element of the group whose unity it can determine (Slama-Cazacu 1999: 513). A context of communication implies the place and time of verbal interaction, the relative position of interlocutors and their sociocultural status, institutionalised and situational roles, all of which are elements that impose a certain type of relationship between communicators. Language registers are linguistic subcodes that are knowingly or spontaneously chosen in a certain sociolinguistic community, in view of adapting oneself to the situation of enunciation and to the conversation context. In agreement with Coúeriu (1955-1956, quoted in Dominte 2003), a sphere (region) denotes a space within the confines of which a sign functions in determined systems of signification. Such a space is delineated, on the one hand, by linguistic tradition and, on the other, by the experience related to the signified realities.1 1

In a study called Determination and Framework. Two Issues of a Linguistics of Speech, Coúeriu (1955-1956) groups contexts into four types: situation, sphere, context and discourse universe. In the author’s opinion, a context of speech includes the entire reality that surrounds a sign, a speech act or a discourse, whether one refers to physical presence, interlocutors’ baggage of knowledge or their activity. Three kinds of contexts can be distinguished: idiomatic, verbal and extraverbal. The first is marked by language itself, as a “background” for speech. Verbal context involves the level of discourse, as a “framework” for each of its

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One could notice of late that the responsibility of finding solutions to society’s essential problems has fallen on the shoulders of the political sphere (cf. Larrue-Trognon 1994: 12). A discourse is political when it refers to situations that regard public interest. The foundation of every debate on the relationship between politics and communication is the concept of public space (public sphere). This is the framework of political communication, as it allows for the development of all the practices, discourses and activities that make up a political act and the interaction of social agents. The visibility of political events and participants relies on what could be called symbolic or virtual public space, which ensures the circulation of information and the dissemination of forms of communication, such as journals/magazines/newspapers, audio-visual media and electronic media (among others, see Miège 1995 and Sinescu 2010). A key feature of contemporary public communication is the simultaneous usage of its forms with those of private communication. The tendency to generalise the presentation of political figures’ private lives in the media constitutes an actual transgression of the boundary between the two spaces, which can affect the coherence of political communication. There occur numerous glides between the universe of politics and that of “civilian life” (the latter contributes to the construction of the former), due to the fact that language is nowadays more and more a matter of the “street” (Charaudeau and Ghiglione 2005: 99). In public space, interaction between individuals takes place, on the one hand, by means of multiple roles that political figures assume and that are governed by specific norms, which determine individual and collective behaviours, as they are defined by the context of human interaction. On the other hand, various social groups tend to spontaneously generate new contextual rules of virtual behaviour (which are associated with the aforementioned roles), whose function is to create a collective framework of action as a basis for political opposition manifested on the level of communication. This implies changes in the norms of correlation between

components. Extraverbal context is made up of every non-linguistic circumstance that is perceived by speakers in a direct or mediated way. There exist several subtypes of this context: physical, empirical, natural, practical, historical and cultural. By discourse universe, the author understands the universal system of signification to which a discourse (or an utterance) pertains and which determines its validity and meaning. Literature, mythology, hard sciences, mathematics, the empirical universeas “themes” or as “fields of reference” of speechare all “discourse universes.”

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language and social behaviour. The norms in question are illustrated best by socially conditioned onomastic variation: Every language resonates with certain fields of experience and, therefore, every language possesses “usual” words that from the viewpoint of other languages appear “technical” and “untranslatable.” In this respect, proper names are “technical words” too, to the extent to which their Geltungskreis does not depend on idiomatic organisation, but on the field in which their object is known. (Coúeriu 1955-1956, quoted in Dominte 2003, orig. Romanian, my translation)

Due to their lexical “self-sufficiency,” proper names are generally the most suitable elements for the creation of “mediated situations,” namely for getting things into the spatial-temporal horizon of speech without the risk of causing ambiguity. The preference of the Romanian language for the allocutive agreement in communication (and hence for the identification and designation of the allocutor) accounts for the diversity of linguistic forms used in the initiation of communicative relationships between individuals, but also in the elaboration of social contacts on the level of language.2 In what follows, the chapter takes into consideration the system of official forms of address (surnames and first names) used in an allocutive and nonallocutive manner (looking at the global function of identification that basic forms of designations have and at the contextual functions of marking bearers’ behavioural features, which can be seen in the numerous sociolinguistic variants of these forms of address). The category analysed has the following characteristics that are relevant on the current occasion: (1) Once given, official anthroponyms are fixed coordinates in relation to their bearer. Giving, bearing and changing personal names are social problems, regulated by law. Within every class of equivalent forms, only one will be an official anthroponymic formula, in agreement with effective laws, while all the other constructions will function as unofficial anthroponyms (Sfârlea 1989). (2) Proper names have no meaning beyond the naming act of individualisation of a certain object. (3) Between a proper name and a designated object, there is a temporary relationship that creates the signification of the proper 2

In pragmatics, Romanian has been defined as a language that shows a preference for allocutive agreement in communication (in which conative and phatic functions play a significant part). Among others, see Thun (1979: 200-201).

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name, which is related exclusively to the object individualised through that name. (4) The mobility and freedom of proper names (which can distinguish any object) account for the solely contextual manifestation of meaning within this noun class (Tomescu 2008: 118-129). Consequently, the game of names, which ensures an individual their social identity, is amplified and complicated in direct ratio to the need to create sociolinguistic distinctions that could operate in a community. On the level of utterance, this fact is salient in the largely unaltered keeping of the basic form of an anthroponym and in the addition to it of lexicalgrammatical auxiliary elements, and even in the truncation or distortion of names, all of which are meant to mark the various semantic-stylistic nuances that the users/creators of the variants in question aim to convey as regards the persons designated by such name forms. Thus, onomastic variation refers to changes such as additions, abbreviations or associations with terms that provide a name with special connotations (see the field of derivation, compounding, phonetic modificationparonymy, analogy or the attachment of honorific or anti-honorific, degrading forms etc.).

Aspects of contextual variation of surnames and first names of political figures in contemporary Romanian public space As proper names are signs of a strictly contextual semantic dependency, their sociocultural situational determination is compulsory (IchimTomescu 1975: 246). Dealing with language as an expression of inter-subjectivity (given by the otherness of a subject and by their solidarity with a tradition of a community of speakers), the author of the present research focuses her attention on the distribution of conventional markers of identification of some political figures in contemporary Romanian public space along interlocutive contexts. In this respect, the following will be established: the communicative contexts in which the terms of address/reference analysed are employed; the inventories of terms that are compatible with each of these contexts; the relationship between the terms in question as well as the contextual function they fulfil.3 3

For considerations regarding the link between reference and meaning with proper names, see Charaudeau (1992: 579-581), Chelaru Murăruú (2010: 175-193), Felecan, D. (2011), Lyons (1977), Kleiber (1981), Gary-Prieur (1994) and Jonasson (1994).

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From the perspective adopted on this occasion, two large categories of communicative contexts are germane: (1) Institutionalised communicative contexts,4 and (2) “Free” communicative contexts (especially in the case of chat rooms, blogs and forums). (1) Institutionalised contexts are typical of audio-visual and written mass media communication (conveyed by means of specific channels or via the Internet). Texts generated in this kind of space are meant to inform, influence and stimulate an audience (a group of undetermined individuals who are geographically diffused and who have a certain psychological and cultural profile) in a particular direction, in relation to social, political, economic, artistic events etc. Therefore, the key features of texts created/used in institutionalised contexts are heterogeneity (due to a very wide thematic scope) and mobility (as they are at the core of everyday reality). Texts of this kind illustrate that this register is the most sensitive one to novelty and linguistic changes. Media discourse is embodied in numerous forms that depict social reality by making use of specific discursive means. The genres of communication employed include written monologue (in various publications), oral monologue (radio and television), oral dialogue (public debates) and written dialogue (interviews rendered in writing). Institutionalised contexts are necessarily associated with a high degree of formality, which involves social distance, pertinent social status differences between allocutors and the integration of official surnames and first names in complex, conventionalised anthroponymic forms of address/designation.5 One’s (willing) incompatibility with formal contexts of communication leads to the creation of (surprising) non-standard effects. To a great extent, the names used in the types of texts analysed belong to real public figures. Some of these anthroponyms function strictly as instruments of identification and individualisation (they effect the designation of a person without describing or classifying them), which act as pure “rigid designators that are not related to the personality of the

4

Of the texts produced in such contexts, the present chapter takes into consideration only those that pertain to mass media. 5 The algorithm of conventional address in Romanian implies the use of one’s forename and/or full name, along with reverential forms of address, such as domn (‘Mr’), doamnă (‘Mrs’), domniúoară (‘Miss’), associated with names of functions, occupations or professions (cf. Manu Magda 2008: 887-898 in GALR II).

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designated individuals” (Kleiber 1981: 353, apud Chelaru-Murăruú 2010: 176, orig. Romanian, my translation). Although in this context, according to the norms of proper communication, anthroponyms should occur with deferential forms of designation and/or, given the situation, with names of occupations, professions or roles, personal names can be found (to a considerable degree and depending on the type of publication they appear in) with the following configurations (either out of a need to get an efficient and neutral, impersonal communication or out of carelessness): - family name and first name: Ecaterina Andronescu, who was nominated by Victor Ponta for the position of Minister of Education (http://comunitate.ziare.com/comments/26509/2020430/are-grijaandroneasca)

- the patronym of a designated person: Asked whether he considered appointing Pop, Ponta answered […]. Prime Minister Victor Ponta stated Tuesday, […] claiming that he has also got premonitions, just like Băsescu, and that Andronescu will be a minister. (http://www.antena3.ro/html5/#172078)

In other instances, however, journalistic texts show a satirical usage of proper names with famous referents. In this case, anthroponyms often develop a “descriptive function (which is indicative of a person’s intrinsic characteristics), owing to their being integrated in significant microcontexts. Therefore, historical names can be associated with various representations that interfere in their interpretation” (Chelaru-Murăruú 2010: 176, orig. Romanian, my translation). Many first names and family names are frequently used in the media with familiar forms that are typical of spoken language, as a part of a strategy to mock the public figures in question. Thus, one can identify a series of direct (lexical-grammatical) and indirect (semantic) means of creating certain pragmatic effects. Of the lexical-grammatical mechanisms of variation, one can find: (a) derivation by means of motional suffixes (i.e., nominal suffixes that form male or female counterparts of certain nouns, e.g., –ess in lion— lioness): Why should Androneasca be considered trustworthy in relation to “SpiruHaret”?!

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(http://www.ziuaconstanta.ro/categorie/ziua-satelor.html) (Androneasca < Rom. family name Andronescu)

(b) derivation by means of (ironic, apparently hypocoristic) diminutive suffixes: - […] respectable followers of comrade NeluĠu Iliescu. (http://www.bistriteanul.ro/) (NeluĠu < Rom. male first name Ion) - Trăienel and Boculetz. (http://ro-ro-facebook.com) (Trăienel < Rom. male first name Traian, Boculetz < Rom. surname Boc)

(c) derivation by means of augmentative suffixes: Băsescilă needed Baconschi […] (http://www.ziare.com/ion-tiriac/stiri/) (Băsescilă < Rom. surname Băsescu)

(d) derivation with suffixes that have ironic connotations6: The funniest election moments with Geonache and Băselu. (http://www.realitatea.net/tag/umor_96227) (Geonache < Rom. surname Geoană)

(e) truncation: - How could Milică and aunt Zoe (with her “little boy”, Dan) forget all the insults made by […]? (http://www.evz.ro/detalii/stiri/) (Milică < Rom. male first name Emil) - How did Hrebe get into Băse’s office again […]? (http://sutu.ro/angoasapolitica/cum-s-bagat-hrebe-din-nou-biroul-lui-base/) (Hrebe < Rom. surname Hrebenciuc, Băse < Rom. surname Băsescu)

(f) acronyms: - The extravagant shopping made by MRU, which made his name become a basis for unforgettable nicknames […] (http://jurnalul.ro/specialjurnalul/anchete/) (MRU < Mihai Răzvan Ungureanu) - EBA’s wedding. The “economical” party from Snagov, described by a famous guest. (http://www.realitatea.net/) (EBA < Elena Băsescu)

6

“The suffix –ache is, in contemporary Romanian, one of the elements that is constantly linked to an ironic connotation […] in first names, it evokes a higher degree of familiarity that can trigger humorous effects” (Zafiu 2001b, orig. Romanian, my translation).

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(g) diversified name forms that result from the attachment of determinatives: - The plural form of some proper names (multiple naming) can be metaphorical, as it stylistically explores certain features of the names in question (i.e., a referent’s belonging to a group) (see GALR I: 124): Note that Băsescu is ORANGE, and that in the diaspora it is the others, not the Iliescus that have always won. (http://roxanaiordache.wordpress.com/) (Iliescus < Rom. surname Iliescu; in Romanian, the plural form of the name is Ilieútii)

- Adjectival determinatives can give a proper name certain qualities that are specific to common nouns: I know you do not believe me, but there will come a time when for the keyword Băsescu, Google could reveal other Băsescus that are more anonymous than the “media Zeus.” (http://www.pParvan.ro/?p=483) (Băsescus < Rom. surname Băsescu; the Romanian plural of the name is băseúti, spelled with an initial lower case letter to suggest the similarity to common nouns).

(h) elements that pertain to the class of determiners: - indefinite articles used with proper names (for metaphorical stylistic effects) Elena Udrea: “Ponta is not a Năstase underneath his clothes” (http://www.evz.ro/detalii/stiri/)

- the use of the definite article with proper names, in contexts where common nouns would normally occur (antonomasia): - The museum of communism and the outrage of the Iliescu (http://inliniedreapta.net/insemnare) (Rom. Iliescului) - The Tăriceanu under the sign of the Crin (http://www.alfanews.ro/2012) (Rom. Tăriceanul, Crinului)

- the use of derivatives and compounds based on antonomasia: - Bogdan Chirieac is a Băsist undercover!!! (www.antena3.ro) (Rom. Băsist ‘a follower of Traian Băsescu’s politics’) - TVR 1 beat B1 at băsism. (revistapresei.businesslive.ro/) (Rom. băsism ‘an attitude of praise toward Traian Băsescu, the President of Romania’)

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- There is too much băsescianism in politics (www.cotidianul.ro/) (Rom. băsescianism ‘a political movement that promotes and adopts Traian Băsescu’s ideology’) - Traian the Cotrocenian, King of the DLPs. (http://www.academiacatavencu.info/) (Rom. Cotrocenianul ‘an inhabitant of the Cotroceni Palace, the residence of the President of Romania’; Rom. pedeleilor ‘members of the PDL, the Democrat-Liberal Party.’ The entire phrase is a pun on “Jesus the Nazarene, King of the Jews.”)

Meaning effects result from the modification of conventional anthroponyms, based on mechanisms such as: (a) the alteration of the phonetic body of an anthroponym, which is made to resemble (by means of analogy, paronymy) an appellative that points to a certain meaning that is suggested by the name bearer: Do you think I want what is best for the Iliciosaurus? (forum.hotnews.ro) (The semantic effect is achieved by comparing Ion Iliescu to a dinosaur and, at the same time, to Vladimir Ilici Lenin, the father of communism).

(b) the contextual juxtaposition of appellatives that belong to different registers: for instance, the attachment of a first name to a deferential allocutive domn/doamnă (‘Mr’/‘Ms’), which is inappropriate in standard Romanian, triggers ironic connotations: - When he arrived, Mr Dan [referring to Dan Diaconescu] was greeted with a round of applause. (http://www.rtv.net/) - Comrade Ilici will never die. (forum.hotnews.ro) (associating Ion Iliescu with Comrade Vladimir Ilici Lenin) - Papa Ilici slapped the Simpleton in the face. (http://www.roncea.net/index.php/component/k2/item) (Simpleton—the nickname of Mircea Geoană, coined by Ion Iliescu)

(c) the integration of anthroponyms in versified, clichéd contexts (ludic mechanisms): - To Băse goes a firefly (whose trunk is bigger than its eye) etc. (http://www.gandul.info/) - Mr President Crin the Dancing Queen (http://forum.desprecopii.com/forum/) (about Crin Antonescu).

(d) the use of intertextuality mechanisms to evoke the meaning(s) that a locutor intends to convey relative to an anthroponym (parodic variants of similar texts):

480 Contextual Variation of Surnames and First Names of Political Figures - To Băse an Arab comes—You can see what mayhem the country is in after Arafat’s resignation. (citynews.ro/editorial-4/) (< the poem “El Zorab” by George Coúbuc) - The avatars of Ilici (< the fantastic short prose “The Avatars of Pharaoh Tla” by Mihai Eminescu) - Băse the Sailor (www.jurnalul.ro/interviuri/) (< the animated series Popeye the Sailor Man) - Ilici, Ilici—über alles (www.versuri-si-creatii.ro/) (< a song played by Sarmalele reci, called after the national anthem of Germany, Deutschland, Deutschland über alles).

(2) “Free” communicative contexts display (depending on the situation: private vs public sphere of communication, superiority vs inferiority relationships, distance vs intimacy between speakers) a gradual organisation of phatic elements of address, which corresponds to the level of familiarity or the level of affection that exists between conversation partners. If the roles that take part in a communication are more socially distant, the form of address consists of the interlocutor’s forename and/or family name, preceded by doamnă/domnule (‘Mr’/‘Ms’) + their title. As the distance between the roles diminishes, speakers turn to the vocative case of given proper names or common nouns, and even to interjections (Manu Magda 2008: 887-898 in GALR II): Comrade Androneasca. Yesterday, the Minister of Education and Research (did I say this correctly?), Ecaterina Andronescu, while having a chat with the illustrious, almost octogenarian Ion Iliescu, thought about how she could […]. Her dream […] is inspired by our own very dear friend Nicolae Ceauúescu, who was shot in Târgoviúte by an organised group. Ecaterina Andronescu has got the brilliant idea that […]. In Ecaterina Andronescu’s opinion, the schooling system should not involve classes of physical training. She is not supported by Vanghelie for nothing! (http://www.umbluliber.com/ganduri/tovarasa-androneasca/)

In this class of contexts, which also comprises some instances of simultaneous chat (IRC), one can find the most numerous conventional anthroponyms that are used in an allocutive way, preferably in variants that pertain to popular, colloquial or slang registers. The most notable cases include: (a) forenames and/or patronyms with a marked vocative case, but without the juxtaposition of deferential forms of address:

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- God: Nelule,7 is that you? Speak louder, Nelule! I cannot hear you […]. (http://www.kmkz.ro/de_ras/texte/stenograma-discutiei-dintre-ion-iliescusi-dumnezeu) (Rom. hypocoristic Nelu—Nelule) - Traian Băsescu: Adriane, you cannot possibly understand just how small you are beginning to appear to me […]. (http://www.realitatea.net/) (Rom. male first name Adrian—Adriane) - Voiculescule, where have you been in the last two years? (http://adevarul.ro/continut/stiri/) (Rom. surname Voiculescu—Voiculescule)

(b) forenames and/or patronyms with a marked vocative case and with the juxtaposition of popular/colloquial forms of address: - What vote, Papa Ioan, the one from the referendum? Traian, the Chicken Heart, has got one more duty, to go home. Papa Ioan, he did us in […]. (http://www.evz.ro/detalii/stiri) (Rom. nea’ < nene ‘pop, papa,’ an informal form of address + Ioane, with the vocative case in –e) - Traian,8 rid the country of thieves, deary! (alcoor.weblog.ro) (Rom. Traiane) - Traian, you are leaving the Cotroceni Palace, my boy! (www.youtube.com) (Rom. Traiane) - Let it be, Brother Traian, you are not fooling anyone anymore […]. (http://www.ghidoo.ro) (Rom. frate Traiane)

While the interlocutor is being addressed, they are, at the same time, qualified, relating to the level of affection that the locutor has for them (see Charaudeau 1992: 579-581). Qualification is achieved by means of (a) positive identification (terms of affection) - Dear Mr Adrian Năstase, the agent of Traian’s humiliation […]. (http://surprinsdedumnezeu.wordpress.com/) - Dear Năstase “Seven Houses,” could you share with us commoners […]. (http://www.sebastianbargau.ro/2012) - Crin Antonescu… Our sweet and eternal interim President! (http://www.hotnews.ro/)

(b) negative identification (insults): - In the Land of Boc the Stupid […] (gabriel-dalis.blogspot.com/2010) 7

In Romanian, the endings –e, –(u)le and –o are markers of the vocative case (e.g., Vlad—Vlade, Nicu—Nicule, Ioana—Ioano). 8 For the description of anthroponymic variants that designate the President of Romania, see Felecan, D. (2011: 277-295).

482 Contextual Variation of Surnames and First Names of Political Figures - This is not Boc the Naked, but the porn midget! (www.academiacatavencu.info/)

Concluding remarks Many of the anthroponymic constructions analysed above are recurring structures in contemporary Romanian media. They are based on representations that exist in the local collective mentality regarding the aforementioned political figures. Some of the stereotypes related to these politicians were established by Academia CaĠavencu9 [The CaĠavencu Academy], currently called CaĠavencii), wherefrom they were taken by other Romanian publications. In time, they have earned the status of common places in everyday conversations: Whether they were taken from common usage or not, some of these [stereotypes] tend to behave, due to their frequent occurrence and transfer from one publication to another, as functions of nicknames, and thus they trigger a “re-baptism” of the referents. In these cases, the referential function of proper names is seconded by the emotional one, as these convey equally a speaker’s subjective attitude toward referents (just as common names do, at least as regards diminutivisation) (Chelaru-Murăruú 2010: 176-177, orig. Romanian, my translation).

References Academia CaĠavencu, weekly magazine, year I (1990). Charaudeau, P. 1992. Grammaire du sens et de l'expression. Paris: Hachette. Charaudeau, P., and R. Ghiglione. 2005. Talk showul. Despre libertatea cuvântului ca mit. Iaúi: Polirom. Chelaru-Murăruú, O. 2010. Nume, porecle, semnături ironice în paginile Academiei CaĠavencu. In Limba română: Controverse, delimitări, noi ipoteze (II), Pragmatică úi stilistică, Actele celui de al 9-lea Colocviu al Catedrei de limba română (Bucureúti, 4-5 decembrie 2009), R. 9

Academia CaĠavencu is a well-known Romanian satirical journal of investigation, founded in February 1990 for the very reason of penalising the vices of postcommunist Romanian society by means of (black) humour. It is worth mentioning that the articles of this magazine are “literary” texts that develop a satirical intention. They are written by a selection of authors whose key objective is to cultivate thematic aspects of humorous written media and the stylistic effects that result from the use of mechanism of orality in writing.

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Zafiu, A. Dragomirescu and A. Nicolae (eds.), 175-184. Bucureúti: Editura UniversităĠii din Bucureúti. Coúeriu, E. 1955-1956. Determinare úi cadru. Două probleme ale unei lingvistici a vorbirii. In Introducere în teoria lingvistică. Antologie pentru Seminarul de Teorie a Limbii, C. Dominte. http://ebooks.unibuc.ro/filologie/dominte/index.htm (accessed September 2012). Felecan, D. 2011. ObservaĠii privind utilizarea unor alocutive de identificare în limba română actuală (exemplul Preúedintelui României [PR]). In ONOMASTICON. ǵȞȠȝĮıIJȚțȩȞ. Studii despre nume úi numire I, O. Felecan (ed.), 277-295. Cluj-Napoca: Mega. Gary-Prieur, M.-N. 1994. Grammaire du nom propre. Paris: PUF. GuĠu Romalo, V. (coord.). 2008. Gramatica limbii române (GALR), I-II. Bucureúti: Ed. Academiei Române. Ichim-Tomescu, D. 1975. Sens úi context la numele proprii. SCL 26: 239246. Jonasson, K. 1994. Le nom propre. Constructions et interprétations. Louvain-la-Neuve: Duculot. Kleiber, G. 1981. Problèmes de référence. Descriptions définies et noms propres. Paris: Klincksieck. Larrue, J., and A. Trognon. 1994. Introduction à la pragmatique du discours politique. In Pragmatique du discours politique, A. Trognon and J. Larrue (eds.), 5-16. Paris: Armand Colin. Lyons, J. 1977. Semantics I. Cambridge: CUP. Magda, M. 2004. Strategii ale discursului public—Riscuri úi oportunităĠi: consideraĠii introductive referitoare la unele disfuncĠii specifice discursului public românesc actual (perspectivă pragmalingvistică). In Fenomene úi procese cu risc major la scară naĠională, )*)LOLSDQG %&6LPLRQHVFX FRRUGV . Bucureúti: Academia Română. Manu Magda, M. 2007. Dialogul în comunităĠi plurilingve: aspecte ale comportamentului mediatic alocutiv (exemplul României). In Europa úi spaĠiul public. Practici comunicaĠionale. Reprezentări. Climat emoĠional, C. Beciu and N. Perpelea (eds.), 62-102. Bucureúti: Editura Academiei Române. —. 2008. Limba română vorbită. GALR II: 869-904. —. 2009. Indici de alocutivitate în limba română actuală (clasa alocutivelor interjecĠionale). In Dinamica limbii române actuale. Aspecte gramaticale úi discursive, G. Pană-Dindelegan (coord.), 459490. Bucureúti: Editura Academiei Române. —. 2012. Pragmatics and Anthroponymy: Theoretical Considerations on the System of Appellatives in Contemporary Romanian. In Name and

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Naming: Synchronic and Diachronic Perspectives, O. Felecan (ed.), 18-31. Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Miège, B. 1995. L’espace public—au delà de la sphère politique. Hermès 17-18: 49-62. —. 2000. Societatea cucerită de comunicare. Iaúi: Polirom. Sfârlea, L. 1989. Rumänisch: Anthroponomastik. In Lexikon der Romanistischen Linguistik (RLR), G. Holtus et al. (eds.), 358-380. Tübingen: Niemeyer. Sinescu, C. 2010. SpaĠiul public al comunicării politice. Sfera Politicii (November 2009). http://www.sferapoliticii.ro/sfera/141 (accessed September 2012). Slama-Cazacu, T. 1999. Psiholingvistica, o útiinĠă a comunicării. Bucureúti: ALL. Thun, H. 1979. Die Existimatoren des Deutschen und ihre rumänischen Aquivalenten. Beiträge zur deutsch-rumänischen Grammatik, I, 193206. Bucharest: (n.p.). Tomescu, D. 2008. Substantivele proprii. GALR I: 118-129. Zafiu, R. 2001a. “Românache,” “străinache.” România Literară 10. http://www.romlit.ro (accessed September 2012). —. 2001b. Diversitate stilistică în româna actuală. Bucureúti: Editura UniversităĠii din Bucureúti. —. 2007. Limbaj úi politică. Bucureúti: Editura UniversităĠii din Bucureúti. —. 2010. 101 cuvinte argotice. Bucureúti: Humanitas.

POLISH ARTISTIC PSEUDONYMS KINGA ZAWODZIēSKA-BUKOWIEC Introduction Artistic pseudonyms, as one of the most important points on the typological map of pseudonyms, undoubtedly enrich the whole subcategory they pertain to.1 Although they appeared on Polish ground much later than, for example, pen names, they are a very interesting phenomenon, both onomastically and culturally. The observation of artistic pseudonyms while taking into account the area (national, local, individual) in which the corresponding speech act occurred, enables one to capture, on the level of onomastics, “uĪywanie form jĊzykowych nazw wáasnych w powiązaniu z czynnikami psychiczno-spoáecznymi” (Kaleta 1998a: 61).2

1

Pseudonyms—category or subcategory? Although the treatment of pseudonyms and first names, surnames, nicknames etc. as different categories of personal proper names is a commonly observed phenomenon in Polish onomastics (see “charakterystyka przezwiska jako kategorii antroponimicznej,” CieĞlikowa 1998a: 119-134; “pseudonim jako kategoria antroponimiczna,” CieĞlikowa 1998b: 135141), it is worth noting that the traditional division of onymic resources is based on two main categorical bases: anthroponyms and toponyms. Only within them are subcategorical classes distinguished and specific types and subtypes correspond to their internal ordering. The complete taxonomy of a pseudonym subcategory includes: (1) a type, based on the user criterion, such as a pen name, artistic pseudonym, sport pseudonym; (2) a variant, specifying the nature of a user. Variants work within specific types, e.g., for the type “artistic pseudonym,” the following variants are specific: pseudonyms of painters, sculptors, graphic designers, actors, singers; (3) a genre, determined by structural criteria, e.g., fictonyms, cryptonyms, graphonyms. From the author’s standpoint, one should analyse the properties of individual subcategories in relation to their differing values within a given category and the uniqueness of the properties underlined in their description. Connections established both within a specific field of onyms and in the broader system of naming allow for the identification of appropriate levels of inferiority within a category (see Mrózek 2003: 11-20). 2 [the use of language forms of proper names in conjunction with psycho-social factors] (my translation).

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Previous reflections and research on Polish pseudonyms focused primarily on pen names and, to a lesser extent, conspiracy pseudonyms. Other types of pseudonyms have not prompted much interest in researchers so far. While the Polish literary “pseudonymography”3 has been of high quality, there are no similar studies for other types of pseudonyms. The term of “artistic pseudonym” was never given a clear definition. In general, it designates a name attributed to public figures, well-known in the world of art (broadly speaking). As we read in the Sáownik JĊzyka Polskiego, an artist is “czáowiek uprawiający jakąĞ dziedzinĊ sztuki; artysta dramatyczny, kabaretowy, filmowy; artysta malarz, muzyk” (SJP 2003: 23-24).4 So, starting from this definition, let us look at pseudonyms whose users belonged to the Polish artistic community. Against the background of artistic anthroponyms as a whole, stage pseudonyms are certainly distinctive. It is commonly known that an artistic community, along with the above-mentioned professions, is co-created by writers and poets; therefore many researchers also perceive pen names as artistic pseudonyms.5 However, due to the characteristic features of different types of pseudonyms, the varied distribution of individual functions and a reevaluation within the subcategory, the separation of pen names and artistic pseudonyms seems legitimate. The number of excerpted artistic pseudonyms is about 1,200. Both print publications (monographs, biographies, anthologies, lexicons and encyclopaedias), as well as numerous online publications, newspaper articles, radio and television programmes were used in the collection of research material. Conducting surveys, interviews and initiating e-mail 3

This is mainly due to Bar’s Sáownik pseudonimów i kryptonimów pisarzy polskich, and Jankowski’s Sáownik pseudonimów pisarzy polskich. It is a fact that there are many convergent elements that characterise pseudonyms belonging to different typological groups, but one must not ignore (quite explicit) distinctive features that are specific only to particular types and kinds. The extent of these differences is so large that it cannot be underestimated. The first person who became interested in the artistic pseudonym was Montalban (1928). In this case, separation of the two types of pseudonyms indicates that what was noticed, though perhaps yet not named, were typological differences between pseudonyms used by representatives of various communities. 4 [A person practising in a field of art; an actor, comedian, painter, musician] (my translation). 5 See “Do dziĞ natomiast przetrwaáy pseudonimy artystyczne, gáównie zresztą literackie i sceniczne, oraz polityczne” [To this day, the surviving artistic pseudonyms, mostly from literature, performing arts and politics] (ĝwierczyĔska 1999: 15, my translation).

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correspondence constituted an important part of the research on the aforementioned types of pseudonyms.

Short historical outline of Polish artistic pseudonyms In the first place, it should be noted that native artists had not felt the need to hide under pseudonyms for many centuries. While in the Middle Ages anonymous works were often created, from the sixteenth century, besides unsigned works of art, there also occurred creations whose authors sought fame and glory. The situation was very similar to that of actors’ communities. There is even the belief that coming up with a pseudonym was not necessary for an eighteenth century actor, because the first and/or last name of the character played by an actor for many years became one’s stage anthroponym. One might therefore observe in such cases sources and manifestations of the phenomenon of artistic pseudonymy, but it would be too much of a simplification. One can actually talk about a phenomenon of true artistic pseudonyms in Poland from the nineteenth century onwards. Among Polish artists, actors were the first to opt for pseudonyms, the following among them: Helena Modrzejewska (Helena Jadwiga Cháapowska), Gabriela Zapolska (Maria Gabriela Korwin-Piotrowska6), Ludwik Mancewicz/Ludwik Solski (Ludwik Sosnowski), Teodor Roland (Teodor Konopka). The full flourish of artistic pseudonyms, particularly those of actors, occurs in the first half of the twentieth century. This was even called a fashion, about which Brzeski (1936: 5) wrote with some disapproval. According to Litwin (1930: 46), the first Polish artistic pseudonyms were “niby nazwisko, nazwisko rzekome, którego ktoĞ uĪywa zamiast swego nazwiska cywilnego.”7 Motivations of first users of Polish artistic pseudonyms do not differ substantially from those generally accepted.8 Consequently, social-customary 6

Gabriela Zapolska was originally just a pseudonym of the actress, but later she also used it in the field of literary creation. 7 [like a name, an alleged name that someone uses rather than his/her civil name to mark his/her person] (my translation). 8 The author of this chapter distinguishes external causes (sociopolitical and socialcustomary), as well as internal ones (psychological). See also ĝwierczyĔska (1999: 17) and CieĞlikowa (1998b: 136). It is worth noting that “Motywy przybierania pseudonimów opisane są zarówno w literaturze (w obrĊbie fikcji), jak i w literaturze naukowej, pamiĊtnikarskiej, dokumentalnej” [Motives for taking pseudonyms are described both in fiction literature and in scientific, memoir, documentary literature] (CieĞlikowa 1998b: 136, my translation). Besides, “w nazwach wáasnych róĪnych typów i kategorii zawarta jest informacja o tym, co byáo przyczyną ich powstania lub wyboru dokonanego przez czáowieka” [In proper

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causes are the most frequent ones, but sometimes there are also psychological ones. Among the social-customary causes, the need to stand outside of or be accepted by a particular social group or environment is quite significant. For example, brothers Julian and Mariusz MaszyĔscy are actors who—because their career choice was not accepted by their family—performed as Julian KrzewiĔski and Mariusz KrzewiĔski. Other reasons may include considerations of honour for certain people, attachment to family tradition and the desire to commemorate places that are important to the artist: Ludwik Solski takes his pseudonym from the maiden name of his beloved wife; actress A. Chaáupiec takes the pseudonym of Pola Negri, thus expressing her respect for the Italian poet Ada Negri; Anna ûwikliĔska, actually Mieczysáawa ûwikliĔska, took her pseudonym in honour of her grandmother; Eugeniusz Bodo, or Bogdan Eugeniusz Junod, made his pseudonym by combining the first syllables of his middle name and his mother’s name; the pseudonym Jerzy Nowogródzki refers to the street Nowogrodzka (No. 27), where the user, Tadeusz Faliszewski, lived. Pseudonyms often occurred by chance; so it was with Adolf BagiĔski who had intended to use the pseudonym of Scipio del Scampio, but when the actor’s sister received a phone call from the theatre asking for his pseudonym for a poster, forgetting about her brother’s plans, she simply said Adolf Dymsza, and so it remained. In general, pseudonyms accompanied artists throughout their lives. However, there were situations in which artists changed their pseudonyms, even several times. A perfect example is an actor and singer of the interwar period, Tadeusz Faliszewski. It seems that during that time no one had recorded as many albums as he did, no one worked with so many labels and nobody signed with so many pseudonyms: Jan Saskowski (on the threshold of his career), Jerzy Nowogródzki, Jan Pobóg or Jerzy Orowski. Artistic pseudonyms were taken both by individual artists, as these examples show, and by members affiliated with artistic groups. For example, members of the artistic group Szczep Rogate Serce (LameĔski 2007) received pseudonyms referring to the Slavic culture: Marzyn z Kszeszowic, Ziemitrud z Kalwarii, Trudzin z Rudy.9 While in the second half of the twentieth century representatives of actors’ communities rarely opted for a pseudonym, in circles of musicians, painters, graphic designers, photographers, acrobats and circus artists, the opposite happened. The following pseudonyms date from this period: Jan names from various types and categories, there is information included on what was the reason for their origin or choice made by a person] (Rzetelska-Feleszko 2006: 7, my translation). 9 The group has operated since 1929.

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Danek, Czesáaw Niemen, Fryderyka Elkana, Anja Orthodox, Shakin’Dudi, Kora, Obywatel G.C. At the turn of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, far more than in previous decades, we find that the phenomenon of artistic pseudonyms changes, especially in the music environment of hip-hop and rap. Currently, an artist can have several pseudonyms, such as Marcin Marten (AbradAb, dAb, Lord MM dAb) and Ryszard Andrzejewski (Peja, Onomato, Onomatopeja, SykuĞ, Charlie P, RPS). The change of a pseudonym is often connected to a change in the field of artistic activity, e.g., changing the band or stage image10: Ania WiĞniewska, a singer of the band Ich Troje, adopted the name of Aniqa at the start of her solo career; Alicja Janosz turned from the sweet Ali into a raging Alex.

Polish artistic pseudonyms and nomination It should be noted that according to CieĞlikowa (1996: 5-19), postaü nazwy zaleĪy nie tylko od obiektu, ale takĪe od nazywającego, kodu jĊzykowego […] aktu mowy, czyli obudowy semantyczno-pragmatycznej.11

The following characteristics are also significant: the purpose and the reason for naming, the duration of named objects in extralinguistic reality, the number of objects, their place in space, the most important physical and mental features of the class of objects, the naming method or the nomination process (formative creation, metaphorical, metonymic, description, the choice from an existing sets of names). The method of nomination probably has the biggest and the most direct impact on the shape of Polish artistic pseudonyms. Nomination refers to designation through a name choice (from an extant set of onyms), on the one hand, and to designation through creation (from a set of appellatives), on the other. The employment (i.e., borrowing) at the time of nomination of elements from other word categories and subcategories in the creation of pseudonyms may be because of the object or because of the name. The object determines naming when a pseudonym user turns to a name because of the object bearing it. Likewise, a certain name can be borrowed for the

10 Here referring to psychological reasons for the phenomenon of artistic pseudonyms. 11 [the form of the name depends not only on the object, but also on the form of address, code language […] speech act or semantic-pragmatic structure] (my translation).

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aesthetic and sound impact it has.12 The following aspect is also worth noting: cechy fonologiczne i fonemy dziĊki swej trwaáoĞci stanowią budulec, który moĪe byü uĪyty do konstruowania pewnych efektów dĨwiĊkowych speániających w tekĞcie funkcjĊ ekspresywno-impresywną lub symboliczną (Milewski 1973: 314).13

Consequently, pseudonyms resulting from nomination by means of choice can have a structure that is common to all anthroponymic or toponymic categories. Names created in this way use morphological patterns typical of aforementioned onyms. The structure itself does not change, so there are no form markers specific to pseudonyms resulting from nomination by means of selection.14 The choice of a name model is somehow related to the phenomenon of nomination by means of choice. This implies that a user who creates a new name chooses not from a potential set of known onyms, but from onymic structural patterns. First and foremost, the choice is related to a specific name model; for instance, for a surname ending in -ski, the new name is based on this pattern: Ryszard Bolesáawski is the pseudonym of Bolesáaw Ryszard Srzednicki. On the border of nomination through selection and through creation, there are pseudonyms created, for example, on the basis of surnames, not by the direct transfer of the whole anthroponymic pattern from one subcategory to the other, but through specific linguistic and word formation actions (negative derivation characteristic of all acronyms, as well as paradigmatic and affixal derivation). The nominative gravity centre falls in this case on rather loose associations with the appellative area of language. Due to the different formal actions, on the basis of a surname the pseudonym of an associative character is created: Wars/Vars < Warszawski. 12

See also CieĞlikowa (1994: 194; 1992: 112) and Kuryáowicz (1968: 176-181). [Phonological features and phonemes, for their strength, are the building blocks that can be used to construct certain sound effects that perform the expressiveimpressive or symbolic function in the text] (my translation). 14 Many researchers in similar cases talk about the primary phenomenon or the socalled “equality” between the names of various (sub)categories (see, e.g., Rospond 1965: 9-63, and subsequent scientific responses to this proposal, the work of LubaĞ, KaraĞ, Wróbel, Kaleta). However, according to the broad definition of the term derivation proposed by BartmiĔski (1981: 8), specific derivation processes can be seen. In such cases, which occur throughout the system of onyms, CieĞlikowa (1994: 198) recognises both semantic and syntactic derivation. 13

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The creation of a new name is primarily based on a set of appellatives (CieĞlikowa 1994: 194). Speaking of nomination through creation, the following types of creation should be taken into account: wishful, realistic, metaphorical, metonymic and artificial creation of names (CieĞlikowa 1996: 12-13). Forms of pseudonyms resulting from an act of wishful, realistic, metaphorical and metonymic creation do not show morphological traits with respect to their motivational basis, which means that to a large extent, but not necessarily, they reproduce appellative morphological patterns. However, if we take into account semantic and paradigmatic changes that accompany the transition from one language plan to another, we will also see other derivational processes apart from affixal ones. Between pseudonyms and the appellatives that motivate them, the linguistic equality phenomenon is only virtual and generally comes down to the parity of the singular nominative form. One more method of nomination through creation remains to be discussed. It is important as it was probably used for the first time in the field of pseudonyms and, equally important, is not present in any other anthroponymic subcategory (perhaps with the exception of some of the contemporary environmental nicknames). The creation of artificial names refers to the coinage of names in accordance with an adopted letter, syllabic or graphic key (based on Polish and foreign characters/lexemes). The structure of pseudonyms created in this way deviates strongly from the onymic plan; what is more, we can rarely find their formal counterparts15 in the pattern of appellatives. Due to the scale of the phenomenon and the lack of similar patterns among other anthroponyms, this issue is worth a little more attention. In the case of artificial names, proper names, common words and graphic marks constitute the motivational base. Importantly, the creation of artificial names often (though not always) excludes the possibility of semantic classification. Due to the graphically and orthographically varied record of many pseudonyms, the given examples are presented in accordance with the original spelling. It turns out that for many artists, it is important in what graphic form the pseudonym operates in the communication area, for example: K.A.S.A. not Kasa is the artistic pseudonym of Krzysztof Kasowski. The linguistic operations that occur in the creation of pseudonyms can be grouped as follows: (1) Switching the letters or syllables in a name and/or surname/appellative and combining them in a different order, for example: 15

Among artificially created names, CieĞlikowa (1996: 13) lists the names of breeding and purebred animals, products, shops, brands.

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Dj Tomekk, Aga Zaryan16—the first part was formed from the initial of the name Agnieszka and the first syllable of the foreign surname Gazaryan, whose bearer was important for the pseudonym user; the second part was made from the same surname as a result of cutting off the first syllable. (2) Fragmentation, changing the graphic form of the surname, name or appellative, keeping the correct order of the letters from the motivational word: Feel-X (S. Filiks). (3) Various language games, primarily on an appellative basis: Dj TaĞmy Trzaski (Tapes Glitches), Filip Itoito. (4) Shortenings of the authentic name, last name and/or pseudonym, as well as other terms that characterise a holder; rejection or moving any part thereof; common acronyms or derivatives motivated by several-word names. Appellatives from a separate system or the one accompanying a motivational proper name are also subject to shortening in the nomination act. Various pseudonym structures are the effect of shortening: (a) Letter structures are rarely seen as independent forms in the case of an artistic pseudonym; however, there are letter structures diversified with graphic marks: 4P (P. Majewski). (b) Structures based on initials can be combined with a variety of graphic marks, usually parentheses: (it) < Izabella Trojanowska. (c) Abbreviation structures (of a name and/or last name, pseudonym) can be created by rejecting the initial and/or final part of the anthroponym: In < Indianin (the stage name of W. Liksza), Fu < Fusznik, Wito < Witold, Barbara Ur (Barbara Urszula Piwarska). It so happens that with this type of shortenings one may observe a change of sounds—either due to the phonological conditions of a pseudonym (e.g., Fogg < Fogiel) or because of the possibility of providing a pseudonym with additional associations (e.g., Zalef < Zalewski, ĩuber < Zubrzycki). (d) There also exist acronym-based structures, mainly acronyms consisting of initial letters17 which are rarely found in a pure form in the case of contemporary artistic pseudonyms: Eldoka, consisting of the names of letters that are the artist’s initials, separated by do, thus “L do K” (Eng. ‘L to K’); IGS (Igor Sobczyk); Emade, from the previous pseudonym of Dj. M.A.D.

16

Naturally, the pseudonym form reflects the structure of the anthroponymic composition, due to the way that a name is introduced in the area of communication discussed. 17 Putting continuous letter structures on the list of acronyms is rather conventional, as their appropriate place is the boundary between the initial basic structure and acronyms based on initial letters.

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(5) Using a non-letter graphic mark with a pseudonym function— typical almost exclusively for painters, graphic artists, photographers. Let it be emphasised once again that although the act of nomination based on the creation of artificial names is not reserved only for pseudonyms, such structures have a distinguishing feature as compared to other anthroponymics.

Structure of Polish artistic pseudonyms In terms of structure, artistic pseudonyms constitute a part of a system of formal arrangements regarding all types of pseudonyms found in Poland. When describing the structure of an artistic pseudonym,18 one must remember that with such diverse material, it is difficult to maintain clear, strict and immutable structural separations. As rightly pointed out by Skulina (1989: 177), with reference to different types of pseudonyms: stan ten jest skutkiem wzglĊdnie duĪej swobody wyboru formy tych nazw—istnieją bowiem popularne wzory, lecz nie ma obowiązujących powszechnie norm tworzenia pseudonimów (Skulina 1989: 177).19

Moving on to more specific issues, all pseudonyms consist mainly of letter characters or non-letter ones. Among letter marks, two main groups should be discriminated: (I) fictonyms, (II) cryptonyms and non-letter characters that constitute a large group of so-called (III) graphonyms. (I) Fictonyms is an internally, unevenly varied group. While some forms of pseudonyms fully implement the anthroponymic scheme, others, even those certainly included in the proper name plan, mark some deviation from central elements of the subcategory (whose structure they take). Thus, we do not have doubts about the evaluation of the structure of pseudonyms such as Aida, Kazik (Michaá KaĨmierczak), Leon, Vitek, ĩaklina, Juras (pseudonyms having the structure of names); Nowak, Pola Negri, Anna Jantar, Marek Andrzejewski, Monika Mamzeta, Szarlota Pawel, Sara May (pseudonyms created according to the principle of creating full names and anthroponymic constructions; the aforementioned pseudonyms were created using the model of real, functioning names and of fictional characters’ surnames or significant surnames). 18 The works of following authors were helpful in the description of the structure of pseudonyms: ĝwierczyĔska (1999) and Skulina (1989: 173-180). 19 [This condition is the result of a relatively large freedom to choose the form of those names—there are in fact popular models, but there is no universally applicable standard of pseudonym creation] (my translation).

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Polish Artistic Pseudonyms

Specific descriptions must also be included in the group of fictonyms, e.g., Mieczysáaw z Miechowa, Ziemin z KsiĊĪa and SáoĔcesáaw z ĩoáyni. A little further from the centre, but still within the borders of fictonyms, we can situate Pan Yapa, Pan Bhahekti, Dj Adamus, Dj Pablo and Dohtor Miód. The reason for this decision is the appellative nature of the first segments that are deeply rooted in Polish consciousness. On the border of fictonyms and cryptonyms, the following forms of pseudonyms can be placed: El–Vis, Natal.ka and Wall-E. Pseudonyms using the structure of nicknames can be controversial, because their trace is difficult to follow.20 Difficulties in the description of their structure may result from the multiplicity of possible structures. Artistic pseudonyms using the formal nickname pattern take the form of either adjectives (Suhy from the adjective suchy ‘dry’), Zagmadfany (from the adjective zagmatwany ‘complicated, difficult to understand’21) or nouns (Abselektor, from selector ‘a term for a DJ in reggae or dancehall music, s/he deals, for example, with the choice of rhythm patterns’; Glaca from glaca ‘baldness, hairless head’; Mandaryna from the nickname that accompanied the bearer since childhood, which derived from the surname Mandrykiewicz). As one can see, on this occasion, the meaning of the term fictonym, in relation to earlier presentations (ĝwierczyĔska 1999: 39),22 was definitely expanded. Not only pseudonyms were created using the pattern of authentic names and anthroponymic compositions, but all optional substitution names corresponding structurally to different anthroponymic subcategories. (II) Cryptonyms are pseudonyms made up of letters or graphic marks arranged in sets/strings of letters or words, groups of words and even sentences. Such pseudonyms are assigned to the group of cryptonyms only under the condition that none of these structures can be found within anthroponymic typology. Undoubtedly, pseudonyms such as K.A.S.A., 20 It should be emphasised that all fictonyms were created either as a result of nomination through choice from an existing set of onyms or following a specific anthroponymic model. However, nomination through creation also applies to fictonyms. Sometimes it is difficult to clearly assess whether a pseudonym such as Dziarski was created in an act of nomination by means of choice from a subcategory of nicknames, or as a result of nomination through creation, but it is certain that such a pseudonym should be treated as a fictonym both structurally and functionally. 21 Sometimes, the graphic form of a pseudonym is deformed in order to reflect the phonetic transcription of a name. 22 Fictonyms understood as pseudonyms in the form of surnames can be found in works of earlier researchers; see Holzmann and Bohatta (1906) and Weller (1856).

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W.E.N.A., WB, WSZ, Yry, Envee and MZetKa should be assigned to cryptonyms, because in fact they go beyond structures typical of anthroponymy. Thus, cryptonyms—understood as forms whose structure does not mirror any anthroponymic subcategory—generally tally with lexical definitions and theoretical findings on pseudonyms. (III) Graphonyms. This specific group of pseudonyms includes items that consist of non-letter graphic marks. They are a relatively rare subject of exemplification. Moreover, they are relatively rare among Polish artistic pseudonyms. When encountered, they occur with painters and later with graphic designers and photographers. Here are examples of graphic marks used in Polish artistic pseudonyms: §, $, &, ¨, Ƃ, ƃ. Pseudonyms that have an equally complex structural scheme—letter-based characters + nonletter characters—are even more rarely found. Letter-based pseudonyms, due to their nature (they are linked structurally to graphonyms), can be considered either as ficto-graphonyms (e.g., George&G) or as cryptographonyms (e.g., 4P, 600V).

Artistic pseudonyms as names in marketing and mass media By analysing the history, the different motivational and nomination processes, and the structure and the “psychology” of Polish artistic pseudonyms, we note that in the course of several decades this type of pseudonym has evolved considerably. One of the changes relates to the structure of artistic pseudonyms. Suffice it to say that artistic pseudonyms had a two-piece structure for many years. At the beginning of the development of Polish artistic pseudonyms, the first part often (but not always) was an official name or its diminutive form, e.g., Józef Orwid (actor Józef Kotschy), Andrzej Szakowski (actor Andrzej PluciĔski), Mieczysáaw Fogg (singer Mieczysáaw Fogiel) and Ina Benita (actress Janina Ferow-Buáhak). An analysis of the second parts/segments enables one to observe a tendency to move away from choosing names with the suffix -ski for artistic pseudonyms. In the second half of the twentieth century, artists made use of increasingly various linguistic techniques when coining pseudonyms, which allowed such designations to be close to creative artificial names. Thus, for example, Violetta Villas consists of the first letters of the bearer’s Christian name and the appellative las (‘forest,’ because she lived near a forest that gave her relief) with double “L.” This does not change the fact that the pseudonym structure fully implements an anthroponymic pattern (“first name + surname”). In the 1970s and 1980s, the number of structures

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Polish Artistic Pseudonyms

corresponding to full anthroponymic compositions is still high, but at the same time, there are already shorter, one-piece pseudonyms (e.g., Piasek, Kora, Kayah, GrabaĪ, Bohun). This can be associated with a general language tendency and an increasing need for communication economy. The aforementioned phenomenon was notable at the turn of the twentyfirst century. More importantly, such pseudonyms often follow the morphological patterns of nicknames: Dzwon, SpiĊty, Kapsel, Gleba.23 In recent decades, one can note structures of anagrams and acronyms that are new in the sphere of artistic pseudonyms. Artists—either based on their names and/or surnames, nicknames and other pseudonyms, or based on the appellative area of language—create pseudonyms such as, e.g., Hal (T. Halicki), Feel-X (S. Filiks), Pan DuĪe Pe (M. Matuszewski), Eldoka (L. KaĨmierczak), Onomato, Peja (R. Andrzejewski), L.U.C. (à. Rostkowski), IGS (I. Sobczyk) and EMZetKa (R. Ciurka). By shortening motivational bases, switching individual letters, linking letters and sounds in a new order in accordance with an adopted letter, sound or syllable key, artists often create asemantic names, which are incomprehensible to the average reader. Receivers of the artistic creation of the bearers of such pseudonyms simply accept the anthroponymic status of the artificially created name. The evolution of Polish artistic pseudonyms was subjected to a gradual weakening of misinformation—the basic function of the subcategory of pseudonyms—and a simultaneous strengthening of additional aesthetic, marketing and media functions. From the very beginning, when choosing a pseudonym, Polish artists were fully aware of its purpose and additional functions. They were generally looking for a name that could not only disguise their real surname, but also help to create a stage personality. Through the creation of a pseudonym that draws attention to the uniqueness of an artistic name, the aesthetic function is largely practised. In such cases, the main reason for which one chooses to hide behind a pseudonym is the desire to replace an inefficiently sounding surname.24 Thus, starting from non-linguistic 23

The nickname origin of many of contemporary pseudonyms can be explained by holders, who often emphasise that their artistic pseudonyms were chosen based on nicknames that were previously known only within a certain environment. 24 The need to replace an inefficient surname has been assigned by researchers to a group of causes that are of a customary-social nature. However, if we consider the issue from a psychological point of view we can see that surname bearers cannot accept the ineffectual form of their name. The situation is the same with “dull” surnames and one’s willingness to officially change such a surname. There are still some who request a surname change, but there are also those who accept them.

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conditions that occurred in the act of creation, we find that in the case of the sample pairs presented below (name + pseudonym) the aesthetic sense comes to the fore, e.g.: Juliusz Maluszek—Juliusz Osterwa, Apolonia Chaáupiec—Pola Negri, Czesáawa CieĞlak—Violetta Villas. The need to be remembered or the desire to draw attention is increasingly important for artists. In such situations, the aesthetic function is somewhat supported by the marketing function. In the second half of the twentieth century, the phenomenon of pseudonyms among Polish artists started spreading far and wide. The rapid development of technology, the growing role of mass media (and thus the increasing availability of various forms of cultural life), the multiplicity of forms of artistic expression and the entrance into the sphere of mass culture influence or of a fashion for artistic naming, all certainly contributed to the increased interest in the pseudonym phenomenon. Undoubtedly, awareness of media and marketing aspects of pseudonyms grew steadily among Polish artists. More importantly, the centre of gravity begins to move from the definitional misinformation function in the direction of additional pseudonym features. Due to the nature of artists’ profession, in which image is an instrument for promotion, the ability to hide behind a pseudonym is limited as regards anthroponyms. At the same time, the share of the marketing and aesthetic function increases, and a pseudonym begins to function in accordance with the media name convention (“names in mass media”). Pseudonyms with the exposed media function, just as titles of journals, articles, radio and television programmes, stają siĊ waĪnym fragmentem dyskursu medialnego, formą multimedialnej komunikacji i ekspresji, gdyĪ posiadają one (na poziomie pojĊciowym i leksykalnym) wszystkie lub prawie wszystkie cechy tego sposobu komunikowania siĊ. (Skowronek and Rutkowski 2004: 19)25 Therefore, both in the case of pseudonyms and official changes of surnames, the initiative comes from within, not from the outside. 25 [become an important part of media discourse, a form of multimedia communication and expression, as they display (at the conceptual and lexical level) all or almost all of the features of this method of communication] (my translation). Moreover, “Nazwa […] ma charakter arbitralny, ale musi byü akceptowana na poziomie leksykalnym lub/i pojĊciowym ze strony odbiorców. Jest rodzajem ikony lub symbolu (w sensie zaproponowanym przez Pierce’a). Nie jest to typ onimu mieszczący siĊ w ramach klasycznej definicji, wedáug której nazwa tylko oznacza, nazywa bez poĞredniczenia pojĊciowego. Onimy medialne nie są pozbawione elementów znaczenia, co sprawia, Īe moĪna analizowaü ich páaszczyznĊ pojĊciową. Wyrazy przeniesione z leksykonu apelatywnego lub innych kategorii

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Polish Artistic Pseudonyms

Each of those pseudonyms is necessarily accompanied by a marketing plan that promotes a holder in a certain way. For example, for promotional purposes, the editor of Anna Szmeterling’s debut album, the director of Polish Recordings at that time, suggested to the artist the pseudonym Anna Jantar. Currently, we can observe even stronger marketing tendencies with artistic pseudonyms, and thus larger shifts within the function area of pseudonyms. Not only first names and surnames but also facts of private life are no longer a mystery (although not always) and it is due to the increasing commercialisation of various elements of social functioning, blurring the boundary between what is private and what is public. Undoubtedly, modern media (both public and commercial), with an emphasis that is greater than ever, tries to attract viewers/listeners and contributes to the aforementioned state of things. In this context, one must not forget that the current interaction between a stage artist and the receiver occurs mainly through the media. Mass media underlies social communication in the broadest sense of the term and is at the root of mass communication.26 Thus, mass media przez swój zasiĊg, regularnoĞü i powtarzalnoĞü są centralnym i konstytutywnym elementem wspóáczesnego spoáeczeĔstwa. (Globan-Klas 1999: 13)27

Polish artistic pseudonyms, as a part of contemporary mainstream, had to develop characteristics that enabled them to function in the new socialcommunication area. The media function of a pseudonym is clearly mirrored by Polish artistic pseudonyms; for example, Sara May, a young

nazw wáasnych uzyskują bowiem nowe znaczenia, charakterystyczne wáaĞnie dla tej warstwy nazewniczej. Nowe zaĞ ich znaczenia sprawiają, Īe nazwy takie nabywają takĪe nowych funkcji.” [A name […] is arbitrary, but must be accepted at the lexical and/or conceptual level by the audience. It is a kind of icon or symbol (in the sense proposed by Pierce). This is not the type of onym located within the classical definition of typical name, names without conceptual mediating. Onyms for media are not devoid of meaningful elements, which make it possible to analyse the conceptual area. Therefore, words transferred from the appellative lexicon or from other categories of proper names gain new meanings, characteristic of this naming layer. Thus, their new meanings make such names acquire new functions as well] (Skowronek and Rutkowski 2003: 249, my translation). 26 See also Dobek-Ostrowska (2004: 22) and Dobek-Ostrowska (1999: 78-90). 27 [by its scope, regularity and consistency, is a central and constitutive element of modern society] (my translation).

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Polish singer, when asked, “Why are you using an artistic pseudonym?” answered: Podstawą dla kaĪdego artysty jest dobrze brzmiące, medialne imiĊ i nazwisko. Moje prawdziwe nazwisko jest caákowicie niemedialne, dlatego zdecydowaáam siĊ na zabieg z przybraniem pseudonimu artystycznego. (Szymkowiak 2006)28

Various public controversies that artists are involved in because of pseudonyms can also provide information about what important role pseudonyms play in today’s artistic life. For example, Mes (rapper P. Szmidt) in 2004 specifically objected to the shortening of the pseudonym Mezo (rapper J. Mejer) to Mez, as according to him such a use of the pseudonym prompted the association with Schmidt. To sum up, the evolution of artistic pseudonyms from the beginning of the twentieth century until today was carried out in the following directions—from misinformation to marketing function, and from the anthroponymic composition of pseudonyms to economic media statement.

Typological characteristics of artistic pseudonyms: Summary As shown by the results of my research on Polish pseudonyms,29 a “misinformative name” remains the central, prototypical meaning (in the semantic system) for the term pseudonym. Thus, the meanings of the word pseudonym (“an artistic name,” “a marketing name”) reveal a two-step language process of narrowing and extending the central meaning of the word. Narrowing occurs due to specific expression, indicating a smaller set of designations, whereas extension occurs on the level of functional semantics. As regards meaning in relation to “marketing names,” metaphor is also a phenomenon responsible for the creation of a semantic relationship. Using the basic meaning of the term marketing/media name or “name working in marketing/media” (source domain)—not necessarily an anthroponym—we obtain a new meaning of the term pseudonym to describe the meaning of words in a slightly different domain (target 28

[A well-sounding, media name is the basis for each artist. My real name is completely improper for media, so I decided to use an artistic pseudonym] (my translation). 29 The dissertation in preparation for print: “Pseudonim polski (od czasów najdawniejszych do dziĞ)” [The Polish Pseudonym (From the Earliest Times to the Present)].

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domain). This new meaning consists primarily of differential features. In the case of the whole pseudonym subcategory, it is the presence of additional functions of an optional nature that enables the preservation of diversity within the subcategory. Contemporary artistic pseudonyms definitely stand out against the background of all definitional features30 of pseudonyms (derivativeness, secondariness, optionality, purpose—to hide the full or partial name of a holder—, the correlation of the nomen proprium function with that of misinformation, resulting in two areas of activity, an official and a secret one, and the formation in a single act of conscious creation or conscious choice). The functions of contemporary artistic pseudonyms are related to impact-making, marketing and mass media. They contribute significantly to locating artistic pseudonyms in relation to the strict centre of the category. The typological characteristics of artistic pseudonyms—taking into account both definitional and differential traits—are as follows: (1) Pseudonyms are formed in a single act of conscious choice, made by an artist. It rarely happens that a pseudonym is selected and assigned by the artistic environment. (2) Pseudonyms are secondary and optional names. (3) Their basic function of misinformation is often exacerbated by aesthetic, marketing and media functions. (4) The reasons underlying artistic pseudonyms are psychological and (seldom) social-customary. (5) They can establish official contacts (based on the relationship between artist and viewers/listeners) and informal ones (within groups of artists). (6) Pseudonyms generally operate exclusively with the elite and are known to those who are interested in a specific field of art, although there are some pseudonyms that are well known (especially stage pseudonyms that are promoted by mass media). (7) Contemporary Polish artistic pseudonyms are usually asemantic creations. (8) Structural changes within artistic pseudonyms from the late nineteenth century to the present day range from the form of the anthroponymic composition to cryptonymous structures, artificially created structures of anagrams and acronyms. (9) Artistic pseudonyms (just as pen names) are protected by law.31 30

Definitional features are present in every pseudonym type and therefore constitute the subcategory affiliation. 31 Point one, art. 52 chap. 6 of “Prawo autorskie” from 1964 states that “naruszenia autorskich dóbr osobistych dopuszcza siĊ, kto przywáaszcza sobie autorstwo,

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In light of the above findings, we gain confirmation for the thesis that kategorie wyodrĊbniane są przez czáowieka na zasadzie podobieĔstwa obiektów, a nie speániania warunków koniecznych i wystarczalnych. Na dane kategorie skáadają siĊ egzemplarze bardziej i mniej reprezentatywne pod kątem posiadania okreĞlonych cech definicyjnych. (Kaleta 1998: 241)32

Artistic pseudonyms are sometimes closer to the centre of this subcategory (e.g., those of painters, graphic designers etc.), while at other times are at a considerable distance from the subcategorical core (actors’ and musicians’ stage names). Therefore, ĝwierczyĔska’s claim (1999: 35) as regards pen names holds for Polish artistic pseudonyms in light of the present research: Pseudonim jest niewątpliwie nazwą wáasną—ale specyficzną; nie tylko nazwa, identyfikuje osobĊ […] jak przystaáo na nazwĊ wáasną, ale moĪe mieü jeszcze dodatkowe znaczenia i funkcje […] Dlatego definicja pseudonimu […] winna byü—nie ukrywajmy—nie tylko Ğcisáa, co pojemna. (ĝwierczyĔska 1999: 35)33

References Bar, A. 1936-1938. Sáownik pseudonimów i kryptonimów pisarzy polskich oraz Polski dotyczących, Vol. 1-3. Kraków: W.L. Anczyc i Spóáka. BartmiĔski, J. 1981. Sáowo wstĊpne, In PojĊcie derywacji w lingwistyce, J. BartmiĔski (ed.), 7-13. Lublin: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Marii Curie-Skáodowskiej. Brzeski, K., 1936. Szaá pseudonimów. Echo Artystyczne 9: 5. nazwisko lub pseudonim twórcy” [copyright infringement of personal rights may be committed by someone who claims authorship, an author’s name or pseudonym] (my translation). This is also confirmed in “Ustawa z dnia 4 lutego 1994 r. o prawie autorskim i prawach pokrewnych” (p.2 art.16 chap. 3). 32 [Categories are extracted by a person on the basis of similarity of objects and fulfilment of necessary and sufficient conditions. Individual categories consist of specimens more or less representative for the possession of certain core characteristics] (my translation). 33 [A pseudonym is undoubtedly a proper name—but a specific one; it is not merely a name, [it] identifies the person […] as befits a proper name, but it may have even more meanings and functions […] Therefore, the definition of a pseudonym […] should be—let’s face it—not strict but capacious] (my translation).

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CieĞlikowa, A. 1992. Rodzaje ekspresji w tworzeniu nazw osobowych. Polonica 15: 111-119. —. 1994. O motywacji w onomastyce. Polonica 16: 193-199. —. 1996. Metody w onomastycznych badaniach róĪnych kategorii nazw wáasnych. Onomastica 41: 5-19. —. 1998a. Przezwiska. In Polskie nazwy wáasne. Encyklopedia, E. Rzetelska-Feleszko (ed.), 119-134. Warszawa-Kraków: IJP PAN. —. 1998b. Pseudonimy. In Polskie nazwy wáasne. Encyklopedia, E. Rzetelska-Feleszko (ed.), 135-141. Warszawa-Kraków: IJP PAN. Dobek-Ostrowska, B. 1999. Przemiana systemu medialnego w Polsce po 1989 roku. In Wspóáczesny system komunikowania, B. Dobek-Ostrowska (ed.), 78-90. Wrocáaw: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Wrocáawskiego. —. 2004. Podstawy komunikowania spoáecznego. Wrocáaw: Astrum. Globan-Klas, T. 1999. Media i komunikowanie masowe. Teorie i analizy prasy, radia, telewizji i Internetu. Warszawa-Kraków: PWN. Holzmann, M., and H. Bohatta. 1906. Deutsches Pseudonymen-Lexikon aus den Quellen EHDUEHLWHW YRQ 0LFKDHO +RO]PDQQ XQQG +DQV %RKDWWD. Wien-Leipzig: Akademischer Verlag. Kaleta, Z. 1998a. Kierunki i metodologia badaĔ . Terminologia. In Polskie nazwy wáasne. Encyklopedia, E. Rzetelska-Feleszko (ed.), 45-82. Warszawa-Kraków: IJP PAN. —. 1998b. Gramatyka onomastyczna w ujĊciu kognitywnym. In Najnowsze przemiany nazewnicze, E. Jakus-Borkowa and K. Nowik (eds.), 241-253.Warszawa: Energeia. Kuryáowicz, J. 1968. O niektórych wáaĞciwoĞciach imion skróconych. In Symbolae philologicae in honorem Vitoldi Taszycki, S. Hrabec (ed.), 176-181. Wrocáaw: Ossolineum, Wydawnictwo Polskiej Akademii Nauk. LameĔski, L. 2007. Stach z Warty Szukalski i Szczep Rogate Serce. Lublin: KUL. Litwin, J. 1930. Pseudonim wojskowy i jego legalizacja w Polsce. In PamiĊtnik Historyczno-Prawny 8: 3-64. Milewski, T. 1973. Zasady analizy stylistycznej tekstu. In Stylistyka polska. Wybór tekstów. Warszawa: PWN. Montalban, V. 1928. Le nom littéraire et artistique. Clermont-Ferrand: Imprimerie générale. Mrózek, R. 2003. Metodologiczno-terminologiczne aspekty rozwoju onomastyki. In Metodologia badaĔ onomastycznych, M. Biolik (ed.), 11-20. Olsztyn: OĞrodek BadaĔ Naukowych im. Wojciecha KĊtrzyĔskiego. Rospond, S. 1965. Struktura i klasyfikacja nazwiska sáowiaĔskiego. In Rozprawy Komisji JĊzykowej WTN, 9-63.Wrocáaw: Wydawnictwo WTN.

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Rzetelska-Feleszko, E. 2006. W Ğwiecie nazw wáasnych. WarszawaKraków: Towarzystwo Naukowe Warszawskie, Wydawnictwo Naukowe DWN. Skowronek, K., and M. Rutkowski. 2003. Polskie nazewnictwo mediów—próba rekonesansu. In PrzeszáoĞü, teraĨniejszoĞü, przyszáoĞü polskiej onomastyki, R. àobodziĔska (ed.), 247-260. Wrocáaw: Wydawnictwo WTN. —. 2004. Media i nazwy. Z zagadnieĔ onomastyki medialnej. Kraków: Wydawnictwo LEXIS. Skulina, T. 1989. Funkcje i antroponimy status pseudonimów. Studia Polonistyczne 3: 173-180. SJP = Sobol, E. (ed.). 2003. Sáownik jĊzyka polskiego, s.v. Artysta. Warszawa: PWN. SPPP = Jankowski, E. (ed.). 1994-1996. Sáownik pseudonimów pisarzy polskich. XV w.-1970. Wrocáaw: Ossolineum. ĝwierczyĔska, D. 1999. Polski pseudonim literacki. Warszawa: PWN. Szymkowiak, M. 2006. C’est la vie… Wywiad z Sarą May. http://eurowizja.org/v10_news.php?id=1470 (accessed January 12, 2010). Weller, E. 1856. Index Pseudonymorum. Wörterbuch der Pseudonymen oder Verzeichniss aller Autoren, die sich falscher Namen bedient. Leipzig: Verlag von Falcke & Rössler.

SECTION FIVE: NAMES IN VIRTUAL SPACE

ITALIAN STUDENTS’ E-MAIL NICKNAMES: WHEN THE PRIVATE ENTERS THE PUBLIC SPACE DAVIDE ASTORI

Je suis comme je suis.

Introduction Within the new field of so-called “Virtual onomastics,” which is creating the new “netizens,” e-mail nicknames have not yet received all the attention they deserve. In the following pages, I try to define and characterise what an e-mail nickname (henceforth “mail name”) is. Then, I classify and discuss some meaningful examples that I have collected during my last five years as a professor at the University of Parma.

Mail names In the grey zone between official and virtual names,1 mail names belong to users’ private space. They mirror the freedom, expressivity and creativity of individual choices, as virtual names generally do.2 However, through 1

For a very recent overview and basic bibliography see (at least) Ungureanu (2011). 2 Among the differences between mail names and nicknames, which will be discussed below, lack of anonymity is particularly worth stressing. Nevertheless, the two classes also display several similarities. A basic definition of nicknames that applies also to mail names is Reaney’s classical definition (1969: 232 in Bugheúiu 2010: 56): “A nickname is ‘a name or description which is added to or substituted for the proper name of a person. It does not include pet-names or diminutives of personal-names’ and may derive from various elements: physical or external characteristics, mental and moral characteristics, names of animals, birds and fishes, names from oaths, street-cries and phrases, or from indecent or obscene phrases.” In this context, Bugheúiu (2010: 57) adds: “If in face-to-face communication the main function of a name is referential with the purpose of individualisation, in virtual communication the role of a nickname is to identify,

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them, people introduce themselves as individuals, just as they do with their official names. Therefore, in the case of mail names, the anonymity of forums or chats is not possible. The implied norms of such writing acts force writers to clearly present themselves. Mail names are like a “passport” for the first contact in communication.3 The choice of one’s mail name stands midway between the need for an official name and for anonymity, mirroring the clash between them. Thus, the mail name is a new type of name that deserves a specific analysis. A sender does have a certain amount of freedom in “naming oneself”; they can be creative, but cannot lie or say too much, because the addressee knows their real identity. In this respect, mail names differ from virtual names that hide their users like masks. Consequently, mail names enable one to assess how private space enters the realm of public/institutional use and which could be, within the process of “programmed identit[y]”described by Bugheúiu (2010: 59) as “including three types of actions: self-selection, self-promoting and selfpresentation”the level of adequacy of mail names in private acts of communication that involve public interaction, in which real identities are revealed almost as in face-to-face relationships.

Screening As stated above, I collected the following data during the last five years, from students’ school-related e-mails (requests for information or appointments, questions concerning contents or examinations). I analysed a sample of 1,000 mail names; more than 90% of the owners are between 18 and 25 years old. They mirror the general trend of students’ distribution in the Faculty of Letters and Philosophy; the ratio of females to males is 60% to 40%. The university gives each student an official e-mail address at registration. It follows the format “[email protected].” Students receive all official University news and information in this mailbox. They are warmly but also to create a context of ‘managed ambiguity’ (Lakaw 2006: 29), specific to online communication. In a chatroom […] the elements that first and foremost draw someone’s attention are nicknames. Thus, it is not a mistake to say that they became ‘critical means of presenting ourselves. They are the only initial way of saying who we are, in literally one word or one expression’ (Bechar-Israeli 1995).” 3 “In the Internet, one of the first things people see is your e-mail address, and the information it conveys can also contribute to your impression,” as Wallace (1999: 20) emphasises. “This statement accounts also for nicknames,” as Lakaw (2006: 29) underlines. Consequently, it holds for mail names, too.

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recommended to use this address exclusively when they contact university structures and professors. In fact, some professors use a filter to mark as “spam”every unofficial e-mail address. First contact When they contact me for the first time, just half (i.e., 503) of the students use the official e-mail address provided by the university. The other half write from a private e-mail address. They can be roughly divided in two subgroups: the first one is the bigger and it refers to students from Parma (303, about 30% of the total); the second group is composed of students from outside Parma (194, about 20% of the total).

Figure 1. First contact

Second contact From the second contact onwards, around 35% (176, roughly a sixth of the whole) switch from the “official address” to a private one. Therefore, the official e-mail percentage drops to 33% of the users (327). The explanations offered for this switch4 include especially technical needs, such as sending oversize attachments (which is not allowed by the “official” e-mail) or using mail client settings for the personal e-mail. Another reason may be the convenience of having a single e-mail for both

4

Some students (not many) apologise for switching addresses, which is sometimes perceived as an infraction against a professor’s status. Some of them even inform in advance from their official address that they will write from a private one.

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public and private use, or there may be circumstantial reasons, such as having a full or temporarily unavailable official mailbox.

Figure 2. Second contact

Further switching to the private e-mail A longer correspondence (as regard students at the dissertation stage or involved in research) increases the chances for contact and reduces the feeling of professional distance. In such rare cases, students may decide to switch to their private e-mail address (16 people, which leaves us with only 311 “official mail” users). While the private e-mail is used to provide non-professional information, from a book title to a wedding invitation, it is not uncommon for students from this latter group to use both e-mail addresses, which shows how issues perceived as non-professional are still linked to the official address.

Groups of private e-mails In the following sections, I offer a tentative classification of the collected e-mail addresses, providing some of the most notable examples. Bechar-Israeli (1995) and Bugheúiu (2010) show us that any attempt to group virtual names (i.e., mail names) thematically is problematic. Almost no definitive structural classification exists.

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Use of private names in a more or less revised form Some people use the structure [forename + surname] even in private addresses, with some variations. People in this group tend to stay linked to an official character, but switch to their private address for certain needs. Many times, such private addresses appear for official/bureaucratic reasons, as the variations they include might be due to the fact that the standard form had already been taken, or that some providers do not allow the separation of name and surname through the traditional dot:5 [1a1] [1a2] [1a3] [1b1] [1b2] [1b3]

Foreame.Surname@ ForenameSurname@ Foreame_Surname@ Surname.Forename@ SurnameForename@ Surname_Forename@

This form can include abbreviations, most often with forenames: [1a1b] F.Surname@ / Forename.S@ / F.S@ [1a2b] FSurname@ [1a3b] F_Surname@ [1b1a] Surname.F@ [1b1b] SurnameF@ [1b1c] Surname_F@

This basic structure can be more specific by including a year/date (mostly the birth year or the year of e-mail registration) and/or a toponym (a more or less shortened form): [2a1] deborah_88cr@ [2a2] 88_dany@ [2b1] filippodiranzano@ [2b2] ottavia.kore@ [2b3] robinlithuania@ [2c1] lucaprof.bern[…]@ [2c2] drm[…]yaly@ In [2a1] 88 is the birth year and cr is the abbreviation for Cremona (a city in Northern Italy); in [2a2] the year is followed by a hypocoristic form of the name Daniele; in [2b1] the name means ‘Filippo from Ranzano,’ a village in the province of Parma; Ottavia in [2b2] is the name of a girl coming from the 5

For privacy reasons, the following examples have not been completely transcribed but only outlined.

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Greek-speaking area of Southern Italy; rob in [2b3] is from Roberto, a boy who moved to Lithuania for work-related reasons; [2c1] and [2c2] are cases in which also the professional title is used: prof(essor), d(octo)r.

The use of forenames is more frequent than that of surnames; they occur in hypocoristic form,6 usually with the addition of a year: [3a] [3b] [3c] [3d] [3e]

cateber@ laramazz@ leo74@ leo92@ martha_85@

In [3a] the abbreviation stands clearly for Caterina Bert[…]i; in [3b] the same for Lara Mazzo[…]; leo is the abbreviation of the surname Leo[…] in [3c], and of the forename Leonardo in [3d]; the user’s real name in [3e] is Marta. The letter h and the underscore sign occur due to the fact that the name is so common that it would have been impossible to create an account with the basic form. In other cases, however, such variations can be explained as exoticisms or Anglicisms.

The case of “family” names is worth mentioning: [4a] [4b] [4c] [4d] [4e] [4f]

alanna@ famber3@ fam.ruf[…]i@ gidasovi@ mse.reg[…]@ recosetta@

[4a] is the acronym for the names of the three brothers Alessandro, Andrea and Natalia; [4b] consists of the short form for famiglia (‘family’) and the beginning of the surname Ber[…]i. The number “3” is used because— according to the owner—famber1 and famber2 were already taken. The same holds in [4c], where the surname is not abbreviated. The acronym of [4d] comes from the names Giulio and Daria, the two children of Sonia and Vincenzo (who was placed at the end of the mail name, as Sonia pointed with a smile). In [4e] you can find the initial letter of M(anuele) and the first and last of (Maria)s(ol)e (brother and sister) with the full surname. [4f] consists of the beginning of Rebecca and her mother’s name, Cosetta.

6 On this specific subject, see especially Thornton (1996), which fits well the analysis proposed here.

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The use of a telephone number is rare (but attested five times). It is quite typical of people whose e-mails are provided by a mobile phone company: [5] 338149xxxx@ The domain of [5] is that of a phone company.

Various types of nicknames Between abbreviations of official names and actual nicknames, there are cases of abbreviations reshaped in a creative way: [6a] rablam@ [6b] sarabette@ [6c] marcomenca@ [6d] annamady@ [6e] enzornc@ [6f] fram[…]i@ [6g] dairam2006@ The full versions of the abbreviations are as follows: [6a]—Lamberto Rab[…]; [6b]—Sara Bette[…]; [6c]—Marco Menca[…]; [6d]—Anna Mad[…]i; [6e]—Enzo R[.]n[..]c[.]; [6f]—Francesca M[…]i; [6g] is the inversion of Maria D.

The most common case is that of genuine nicknames, which are often distortions of forenames or surnames, e.g., [7a] beppe386@ [7b] burrina@ [7c] cricri842000@ [7d] ckaarol@ [7e] giuggy90@ [7f] marix85@ [7g] mema986@ [7h] michid83@ [7i] saaas73@ [7j] stevie86@ [7k] terry44@

or which characterise their bearers: [7n1] bertokan@ [7n2] chiacarnival@ [7n3] diegolitfiba94@

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[7n4] frefungo@ [7n5] glenda4me@ [7n6] hola_lalla@ [7n7] marymitica24@ [7n8] nixryoga@ [7n9] pipporomantico@ In [7a] beppe is a hypocoristic form of Giuseppe; burrina in [7b] is the deformation of a surname; [7c] presents the reduplication of a very common abbreviation for Cristina; [7d] results from the union of the first letter of the name Claudia with a deformation of an abbreviation for Carolina; [7e] contains Giulia’s pet name (as a term of endearment); marix in [7f] is an analogic nonce formation from Mario through Obelix (“a causa della stazza,” he said, ‘cause of my huge frame’); mema of [7g] is the name Maria Eva as she pronounced it when she was a child; [7h] is composed of a possible hypocoristic form of Michele (michi), the initial letter of his surname (d) and his year of birth; in [7i] the owner uses the dialectal form of his surname Sass[…] (‘stone’); in [7j] one can find the pet name of Stefano, which sounds more English and “cooler,” in his own opinion; in [7k] terry is Teresa, aged 27 (44 LVGXHWR the fact that “terry 43” had already been used). The user of [7n1] is Roberto, kan being a misspelling for the honorific title khan (e.g., Gengis Khan); [7n2] is the shortening of Chia[…] Carneval[…]. The surname is reassessed based on the meaning of the appellative it contains, by shifting to English carnival (also with possible reference to the car brand Kia Carnival); Diego of [7n3] is a teenager (born in 1994) who likes the Italian band Litfiba; the first part of [7n4] is the masculine (see Thornton 1996: 91) hypocoristic form of Frenci (abbreviation of Francesco), while fungo (‘mushroom’) was explained with a wink and a smile and was thus very difficult to understand; Glenda of [7n5] can be, as a friend of hers says, a little egocentric; Lalla (Laura’s pet name) of [7n6] shows, through the greeting added to her nickname, the bearer’s passion for Spain; Maria Chiara presents herself in [7n7] as mitica (‘mythical, i.e., great, fantastic’); nix in [7n8] is Nicolò, who is fond of mangas (Ryoga Hibiki is a character in Ranma ½); the user of [7n9] is a “romantic, sentimental” Giuseppe.

Among actual nicknames, even in composite form, let us also mention [7o1] brook_nona@ [7o2] grondi@ [7o3] sys_87@ The first part of [7o1] is the nickname the user received from his sister, while the second part refers to his passion for music, especially for the ninth (nona) chord; [7o2] is an abbreviation of Grondino, the name of the user’s beloved cat; at the end of [7o3] you can find an indication of the year of birth,

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Italian Students’ E-Mail Nicknames preceded by a nickname inspired by a role-playing game (Sys is the companion of Gambino, the deceased mother of Guts in the manga Berserk).

Furthermore, there are names that play on creative forms: [8a] a_me22@ [8b] alibabetta@ [8c] in.sonia@ [8d] michimus@ [8e] nick.fr[…]88@ [8f] smarties133@ [8g] tuttominuscolo.chiara@ In [8a], Amedeo plays on the dative use of the Italian pronoun (the meaning of a me is ‘to me’); in [8b] Elisabetta hints at Ali Baba (and the 40 thieves); in [8c] the wordplay is with the noun insonnia (‘insomnia, sleeplessness’), from which Sonia (the user) suffers; in [8d] Michele Mus[…] alludes to the cartoon character Mickey Mouse; the abbreviation for Nicola in [8e] is intentionally referring to the idea that he is creating a nick(name); Martina in [8f] plays with the names of the chocolate candies that she used to love dearly when she was a child; the tuttominuscolo in [8g] is an expression normally used as an instruction while giving e-mail addresses, which must be written ‘all in lower-case’ (It. tutto minuscolo).

Finally, there are cases of typos that are kept in the address probably for the convenience of having unwittingly run into an unused and original form: [9a] chaira@ [9b] giovanni19854@ [9a] is a clear example of inversion (for Chiara); in [9b] the correct year of birth is 1985.

Descriptive7 mail names Descriptive mail names are chosen to characterise oneself. They stress a particular feature of one’s personality and are intimately linked to the owner’s identity, e.g.:

7

Among the many possible definitions of the term, I chose the one pertaining to the Philosophy of Language (see [at least] Jeshion 2004). It might be a risky parallelism, but it is certainly productive in terms of the explanation that I offer in the conclusion.

Davide Astori [10a] [10b] [10c] [10d] [10e] [10f] [10g] [10h] [10i] [10j] [10k] [10l] [10m] [10n] [10o] [10p] [10q]

against_the_winds@ alex2122@ alexander.rex85@ angcust@ bambolina31@ bambolita90@ bidoneblu@ bido85@ cestinodimele@ crywolf4000@ daphneporche@ fra_gola99@ franzxaverkroemer@ hedonism80@ hermaion82@ ilMaestro@ lunaghiaccio@

[10r] [10s] [10t] [10u] [10v] [10w] [10x] [10y] [10z] [10aa] [10bb] [10cc] [10dd] [10ee] [10ff] [10gg] [10hh]

515 miemortala@ miss.cicla@ mrzhov@ moonandsea@ namber1@ nesounapiudite@ odusseus@ orchideaperte@ palacinke@ peoplearestrange_dc10@ pichucalco21@ polutroposulisse@ silkovojo@ spadaelfica@ treminutiearrivo@ ulisse31@ zolotajarybka81@

[10a] is the title of a song from the homonymous album (1980) by Bob Seger & The Siver Bullet Band; alex (< Alexander) [10b] refers to an Erasmus student that said his name was playing ambiguously “between my age and other qualities that are more difficult to see”; [10c] refers to Alberto Moravia’s famous Italian novel, Io e lui; angcust in [10d] is a compound abbreviation of angeli custodi (‘Guardian Angels’); [10e] and [10f] are Italian and Spanish hypocoristics that mean ‘little doll, babe’ (in the former case, 31 is the age; in the latter, 90 is the year of birth); [10g] and [10h] use the slang bidonare (‘to hand sb. a lemon, to take sb. for a ride, to stand sb. up,’ from n. bidone and nomen agentis bido, a truncation of bidonaro); [10i] means ‘basket of apples’; [10j] derives from the title of the fable “The boy who cried ‘Wolf!’” (meaning ‘to raise a false alarm’); in [10k] porche is a misspelling for the name of the luxurious car (maybe alluding to It. porco ‘pig,’ with a French aspect); the wordplay in [10l] is between fra (hypocoristic of Francesca) + gola ‘throat’ and fragola ‘strawberry,’ because the user is very fond of this fruit; in [10m] Franz Xaver Krömer is the name of the bearer’s Austr(o-Hungar)ian great grandfather; [10n] is totally clear to an English-speaking audience; [10o] is a student of Classic Languages who reveals his fascination for the God Hermes; [10p] means ‘the master’ (it is difficult to understand in this sense); [10q] can be translated as ‘ice moon’; [10r] presents a very productive wordplay based on the meaning of @ as chiocciola (It., ‘snail’): mi è morta la @ means ‘my snail died,’ while hounamica@ could be ‘I have a snail as a friend,’ or hoinvestitouna@ ‘I knocked down a snail by car’; [10s] belongs to a lady and contains an abbreviation of ciclamino ‘cyclamen’; [10t] belongs to Zhov, a Chinese exchange student, and it is something between a nickname and the reelaboration of his official name (focusing on the characteristic of his ethnic/national origin, as in examples under [2]); [10u] is “romantically” clear; [10v] follows the Italian pronunciation of the correct number 1; [10w] means

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“ne so una più di te” (‘you will not make a fool of me’); [10x] is related to the ancient, Aegean world; [10y] mot à mot is ‘orchid for you’ (any sexual wink is entirely unintentional); [10z] refers to a typical Serbian dish (the mail name marks the origin, as with [10t]); [10aa] is a famous song of The Doors; [10bb] moved to Mexico to study; [10cc] is also a student of Classics (like [10x]) and refers to the Homeric ʌȠȜȪIJȡȠʌȠȢ, Ulysses; [10dd] is the Esperanto equivalent for ‘the silk road’; [10ee], ‘elfic sword,’ refers to the world of role-play games; [10ff] means ‘I’m coming in three minutes’ and it belongs to a girl who is not always on time (to put it mildly); unlike [10x] and [10cc], [10gg] has no Classicistic ambitions, but relates just to the homonymous cartoon; [10hh] is a student of Russian who was going to move to Moscow in some months (the mail name is similar in creation to [10bb]).

Concluding remarks Before trying to draw some possible concluding considerations, Table 1 below presents the collected corpus of 689 private mail names according to the percentage of the reference typologies proposed above. Table 1. Distribution of reference typologies 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Category (total: 689) (Semi)Official mail names Specified names Shortenings/abbreviations Family names Telephone numbers Between official name and nickname Nicknames Re-elaborated nicknames Mistakes/misspellings Descriptive mail names

Number of users 98 54 106 18 5 134 174 33 13 54

% 14.22 7.83 15.38 2.61 0,72 19.44 25.25 4.78 1.88 7.83

The opposition between ostensive and descriptive names (noted in fn. 6 above) can lead us to divide the results into two groups: official mail names and private mail names. The latter also includes completely anonymous virtual names.

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Figure 3. Graphic representation of the distribution of reference typologies

As Jeshion (2009, passim) states, the act of giving a (proper) name8 is a way for people to “signal [one’s] individuality […] signal[ing one’s] value [by finding] a way of dignifying and underscoring importance” to someone/something, giving a “sign that one saw [them] somehow as ‘originals.’” Following this process, the trend of abandoning official addresses (the most bureaucratically and institutionally formalised feature, a mere transfer of official names into electronic mail medium) clearly shows users’ need for freedom and self-determination, even more so when one’s own name is chosen (if possible). Likewise, a connotative name9 is a reaction against the intrinsic limitations of an ostensive/denotative name. It still indicates the desire to stress one’s own identity, which Jeshion (2009) considers in terms of “individuality,” “value,” “original[ity],” “particular[ity]” and “significance.” “In the process of ‘management of the social images of oneself’ (Morgan et al. 1979: 8), a person’s name is subject to a series of evaluations; it is assessed, managed, denied, because we are aware it is one of the things that tells something about ourselves” (Bugheúiu 2010: 62). This 8

Bugheúiu (2010: 62, fn. 6) explains: “When asked ‘Who are you?’, the answer is most likely to be our name, which proves that names have priority over descriptions of role/office, of physical or psychological features.” 9 If official names are denotative, private names (and even virtual ones) are connotative—to adopt more traditional categories.

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process shows the degree of intimacy that guides our relationships with the others when we identify ourselves with our (voluntarily chosen) virtual names. As already stated, mail names differ from virtual names (which are created out of the desire to hide and multiply users’ identity) and join the e-mail owner’s “new identity” with their real one. Thus, these names tend to remain within the confines of reality, maintaining the connection with owners’ real identity, even when they are not official. This aspect explains the almost complete absence of vulgarities or nouns with a negative connotation.10 The request for explaining slightly more intimate names causes embarrassment and shame; [10e] apologised later for having “unwittingly” used too private an address, which was “clearly inappropriate”; [10c] smiled at the fact that I was the first to get the hint (“I always made fun of people for not getting it”). We can draw a scale of increasing intimacy that links mail names (official and virtual) to each other in a continuum. The extreme is constituted by names whose use is closer to the anonymity of chats—in a sort of “degree of anonymity” (Lakaw 2006). I conclude with an exemplification on a potential axis: official

private | virtual

(ostensive, denotative)

low

(descriptive, connotative)

degree of anonymity

[1]

high [10]

References Bechar-Israeli, H. 1995. From ‘Bonehead’ to ‘cLoNehEAd’: Nicknames, Play and Identity on Internet Realy Chat. Journal of ComputerMediated Communication 1 (2). http://jcmc.indiana.edu/vol1/issue2/bechar.html (accessed July 2012). Bugheúiu, A. 2010. Virtual Anthroponymy: A Socio- and Psycholinguistic Approach to Names in the Virtual World. In Onomasticon. Studii despre nume úi numire, O. Felecan (ed.), 49-63 Cluj-Napoca: Mega.

10 In this respect, they differ from nicks in chats or from e-mail addresses that are used in some anonymous forums, in which the virtual name character is maintained. There is indeed a low occurrence of mail names like [10], and they usually do not include what Bechar-Israeli (1995) indicates as “sex-related” and “provocative” nicknames (categories 13 and 14).

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Jeshion, R. 2004. Descriptive Descriptive Names. In: Descriptions and Beyond, M. Reimer and A. Bezuidenhout (eds.), 591-613. Oxford: Oxford University Press. —. 2009. The Significance of Names. Mind and Language 24 (4): 372405. Lakaw, A. 2006. Hiding behind nicknames. A linguistic study of anonymity in IRC chatrooms. http://www.europeana.eu/portal/record/9200111/A22E524784B746BA DC3D663FA1511A7C2EC68126.html?start=7? (accessed July 2012). Morgan, J., C. O’Neill and R. Harre. 1979. Nicknames: Their Origins and Social Consequences. London-Boston: Routledge & Kegan Paul and Henley. Reaney, P.H. 1969. The Origin of English Surnames. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Thornton, A. M. 1996. On some Phenomena of Prosodic Morphology in Italian: Accorciamenti, Hypocoristics and Prosodic Delimitation. Probus 8: 81-112. Ungureanu, E. 2011. Numele oficial úi numele virtual (nickname-ul). In Actele conferenĠei internaĠionale de onomastică. EdiĠia I: InterferenĠe multietnice în antroponimie, 2)HOHFDQ HG 297-309. Cluj-Napoca: Mega. Wallace, P. 1999. The Psychology of the Internet. Cambridge: CUP.

USER NAMES AS UNCONVENTIONAL ANTHROPONYMS DAIANA FELECAN AND ALINA BUGHEùIU Virtual space: The main support of contemporary interpersonal communication Based on the means by which communication is achieved, one can identify, according to McLuhan (1962, apud Slama-Cazacu 1999: 131), three ages of humankind: (1) the “oral age,” corresponding to tribal communities; (2) the “visual age,” when visual communication took the place of auditory communication; (3) the “age of the ‘Marconi Galaxy,’” namely of mass media, which implies one’s “simultaneous engagement through several sensory channels” (Slama-Cazacu 1999: 131, orig. Romanian1). Due to the expansion of the monopoly exerted by virtual communication in recent years, computer-mediated communication is gaining more and more followers. The virtual environment, that is, the Internet, which has become the main form of mass media manifestation, is an autonomous space that claims, by virtue of its specific (i.e., electronic) character, various forms of verbal interaction: personal/“private” (weblogs), inter-individual (e-mails) and inter-individuals (in groups). Undermining real interlocution, Internet-mediated communication gains ground (also) for reasons relating to contemporary individuals’ proneness to make a minimum actual verbal effort. Therefore, the substitution of digital communication for face-to-face communication stems from the modern individual’s convenience, habitudes and the obstacle of spatial distance that separates participants in an interaction. Online instantaneous communication has its own communicative rules and structures. Its representative feature is the capacity to ensure 1

All the quotations that are indicate as being originally in Romanian (“orig. Romanian”) were translated by the authors of this chapter.

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expeditiousness in communication, which naturally leads to one’s being economical about the means of expression employed.

Characteristics of CMC (computer-mediated communication) The micro-universe defined by a user and their computer is a closed toponymic configuration, whence its “prisoner” (i.e., the user) gets out of less and less, on verbally interactive grounds. To an increasingly significant extent, the needs that relate to users’ homo loquens nature are solved in this two-dimensional space (the individual and their computer), whose constituents become more and more interchangeable. The “machine” is both a means of operation and an instrument of communication. In this respect, two types of CMC can be traced: online communication and offline communication. Both have a series of common features that distinguish them from “real”/oral communication.2 In agreement with Amza (2005: 437-438), CMC displays the following characteristics: (1) the absence of face-to-face contact between interlocutors; (2) the use of written texts as the main means of expression; (3) the anonymity of interactants; (4) the variable simultaneity of agents depending on the electronic programme used (e.g., emails do not entail the simultaneous presence of locutor and allocutor in front of the computer, while instant messaging clients demand that speakers synchronise in view of communication); (5) the adaptable speed of response (chat-based communication involves a provisional sequencing of the adjacency pair question— answer, in the sense that a verbal intervention must immediately be followed by a reply); (6) the written representation of non-verbal and paraverbal aspects.

2 Online (chat-based) communication “is a type of interaction that is similar to phatic conversation […]; chat users (called chatters) usually do not know each other in the real world (where it is more difficult to approach an unknown person). Offline communication is related to e-mails and discussion groups or chain letters. E-mail is the most frequently occurring means of communication, due to the fact that it is easy to use. Most people find it familiar and certain […]” (Amza 2005: 437, orig. Romanian).

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The blending of verbal, non-verbal and paraverbal elements, typical of oral communication, has been extended to CMC too, giving it the texture of “mixed syntax” (see Slama-Cazacu 1999: 157): “the ‘visual’ includes graphic images of some words and drawings or pictures etc., whereas the ‘acoustic’ includes all sorts of sound signs, such as spoken words or music” (Slama-Cazacu 1999: 135, orig. Romanian). All the extraverbal elements are supposed to compensate for the absence of body language (voice tonality, facial expression and gestures) and of contextual factors (spatial, temporal and social configuration of the setting in which face-toface interaction occurs) (Scheidt 2001: Introduction). Messages are conceived in agreement with those in oral speech and therefore defined by terseness, metalinguistic insertions that fragment the main discourse and dialogue turns that overlap by a significant reduction of the phatic function owing to the possibility to see the continuous flow of replies. The channel of communication—the material support by means of which virtual interaction is performed—is an artefact that turns the signs of users’ thinking into a graphic message, i.e., a written code. The (autonomous and “legitimate”) scheme of communication thus obtained is marked by deviations from the norm (by which one understands a conventional system of rules and their application, which is fixed through tradition—and hence acknowledged within a given linguistic community—and which distinguishes in speakers’ conscience what is correct from what is incorrect) and by the usage of a code that is parallel (second but not secondary) relative to the natural code.3 The new form of interlocution—a surrogate for real communication— is less rigid, due to its lenience on the level of structure (there exist various combinations between different codes) and content (see the significant truncations/reductions or “impairments” of the phonetic body. Very numerous user names comprise numbers and/or punctuation marks alongside phonemes; the non-alphabetic characters entail the triggering of inferential processes on the reception end of the axis, which can ensure an appropriate decoding of the message). In other words, this composite code consists of a heterogeneous conglomerate of symbols that pertain to various fields of activity. Within the same utterance, one can find alphabetic writing and generally several other types of codes: practical (e.g., traffic and touristic signs), musical, kinetic (emoticons), scientific (alphanumeric characters) etc. 3

Natural code = natural language, used in written or oral speech, depending on the channel of communication.

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Electronic interaction is, therefore, based on an arch-code that is made up of elements taken from disparate social spheres (such as the aforementioned one). This aggregate of (lexical, iconic, numeric, musical etc.) units displays a pattern of formation whose components can be approached transitively (formal associations that are indicative of content) or intransitively (free creations that are semantically opaque and that are meant to hinder inter-users’ decoding efforts). With reference to the linguistic code, the virtual code—which can be defined as a function of the system of interpersonal relationships—can be correlated with the universal level4 on the plane of language; from this point of view, the virtual code functions as an invariant, from which numerous sub-codes derive on the level of (individual) speech. One’s making use of the individual norm as a consequence of the deliberate suspension of the universal one is accounted for by the performance of certain pragmatic factors that on the level of interpretation, trigger different affective-stylistic effects (see, for instance, user names that suggest various types of behaviour: angel_trist (‘sad angel’), baiat.finut (‘gentle boy’), eu_bad_boy (eu ‘I’), forever_happy_like_you, maria_smekera (‘shrewd Mary’), purely.indecent, sexy_and_mean, strange_girl_4ever. Being distinguished from real verbal codes, which can be considered “as linguistic diacritics that serve as a norm for role behaviour” (DSL 2005, s.v. cod, orig. Romanian), the virtual code (and its corresponding varieties) is - (seldom) predictable as regards the signifier (it facilitates one’s access to meaning due to the transparency of the structures used, e.g., calin.rus94—the user name consists of the bearer’s actual personal information, forename + surname + year of birth) or - (often) opaque (it is transitive only to its user and within a small circle of insiders, e.g., dj_fanta97). Electronic hypertexts require that users undergo a new learning stage in view of a complex sensory receipt (see McLuhan, apud Slama-Cazacu 1999: 135). There are several psychological processes involved in the production and receipt of electronic messages. Among these, one can distinguish sensory ones as well as “higher, complex intellectual and verbal processes ([on the level of] meaning and its interpretive production/receipt)” (Slama-Cazacu 1999: 135, orig. Romanian).

4

For the levels of language, see Coúeriu (2000: 233-246).

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User names as virtual unconventional anthroponyms5 The initiation of a virtual dialogue with an interlocutor depends on both speakers’ being logged in as a result of the creation of a user name (also called handle, nickname—short nick or id—short for identification), i.e., an artificial, unconventional act of (self-)naming. While an individual’s real/conventional name functions as a social signum, facilitating a referent’s being addressed and acknowledged in the community to which s/he belongs, a user name is a virtual signum that gives its bearer the ability/possibility to access other users, but which does not guarantee the complete correspondence of real and virtual identities. Most often, the former is dismissed by means of a “code name” that is encrypted enough to erase any trace of one’s real identity. Just as conventional/official names record their bearers in civil registries, user names include individuals in virtual name statistics. As an onomastic variety, the user name “comes closest to the class of pseudonyms since, as a rule, these nicks are given by the name bearers themselves. By contrast, the form and motivation of internet nicknames turn out to be very peculiar so that any taxonomy that was set up […] for other categories of personal names becomes inadequate” (Van Langendonck 2007: 300). Of all the categories of proper names, Van Langendonck (2007: 306) claims that the one in question “shows the most diversified range of motivations ever found in name classifications” (psychological and semantic motivations, such as those referring to a person’s physical appearance, personality, conviction/faith, place of origin, favourite activities, job/profession or to fauna and flora, historical/ mythological events and characters etc.), for at least three reasons: (1) the age diversity of Internet users (who can be adults or youths, but nowadays children and teenagers as well); (2) name givers’ use of formal and content aspects in the choice of a nickname (e.g., cal1nush < Călinuú, hypocoristic form of the Romanian male given name Călin); (3) the desire to come up with nicks that are “original, interesting, and attractive” (Van Langendonck 2007: 306), as they are meant to capture other users’ attention and trigger conversation. Pragmatically, user names are, according to Bechar-Israeli (1995), “critical means of presenting ourselves,” as they are the initial means by 5 This investigation is part of a more consistent study on onomastics, developed within the research project Unconventional Romanian Anthroponyms in European Context: Formation Patterns and Discursive Function (funded by CNCS, code PN-II-RU-TE-2011-3-0007, contract number 103/2011, project manager Associate Professor Daiana Felecan).

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which contact is established between participants in a conversation and, therefore, the first and most condensed way in which one can express his/her purported identity: “A self-chosen nick will augment a person’s self-image. That nick will not necessarily reflect personality traits or characteristics, or a person’s external appearance, but might also mirror that person’s aspirations or dreams” (Bechar-Israeli 1995). Thus, user names can be seen as the most important tactic of one’s self-presentation: […] everyone uses tactics to present themselves in whatever light they think appropriate for the context. Your motives are key. You might want to be liked by your audience, to dominate them, to throw yourself on their mercy, or to have them fear or respect you, and you will choose tactics for your self-presentation that you hope will accomplish your goal […] [If] you explore Internet niches in which nicknames are commonly used, the one you choose for yourself becomes part of how you manage your impression […]. Participants choose their nicknames […] with great care and come to think they ‘own’ that name […] so it becomes an attribute linked to every utterance you make (Wallace in Lakaw 2006: 11).

User names are suggestive of their bearers: they tell of their bearers’ linguistic and psychological profile. This statement holds even in the case of users that come up with identity cards that are confusing for others, in the sense that the user name of one’s choice is not in agreement with their real name. Most users exploit the chance of being makers of their own onomastic destiny, by giving themselves a compensative identity in the virtual civil registry, which is usually different from the one that was attributed to them de iure. Name substitution does not imply any additional costs except for the recording on the level of a (self-) introductory sign that is more or less motivated, to the extent that a user allows it to speak for itself and about oneself. Put differently, nicknames “can be very fluid, and are easily and quickly changed to meet the participant’s needs or desires” (Scheidt 2001). Structurally, user names display the following characteristics: (1) They have a variable size (depending on the technical standards of socialisation applications).6 As regards Yahoo! ids, the graphic limits are 6

Of the great variety of socialising networks and programmes, this chapter takes into consideration Yahoo! Mail (an e-mail account), Yahoo! Messenger (a real-time instant messaging client) and Yahoo! Profile (a social networking website). Yahoo! ids are unique (i.e., there cannot exist two identical nicknames). Moreover, the company offers its users the possibility of employing a single id for all three means of communication (while they can create several accounts or have several aliases for an account).

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generally between four and thirty-two characters (which can be alphanumeric as well as the underscore and one dot. At the same time, Yahoo! Messenger allows for more freedom in the choice of types of characters that can be included in nicknames). (2) They have a “cosmopolitan” aspect, based on the principle of combining and associating certain signs that are taken from different and seemingly incompatible semiotic systems (e.g., D@rIU$.PiMp) or from different languages. In the latter case, English is the most frequently occurring linguistic influence, mainly because this is the lingua franca of the digital space and because it is associated with success, well-being and prestige, all of which are values that pertain to the cultural paradigm (especially) of American space. (3) They rely on stylistic effects resulting from the interference of a given text with metatexts: the merger of the phonetic body with emoticons, numbers or punctuation marks underlines the intention to discard the explicit and analytic aspects of a name in view of making a name-message concise and opaque; e.g., csvd7 < Rom. ce se vede ‘what is visible, obvious’ + 7, the user’s lucky number; kaze [-o :/ \:d/:-@3:-O. (4) They are the graphic expression of the reduction to the minimum of one’s efforts to create a written text through the usage of “alternative” resources: emoticons, punctuation marks, digits etc. (e.g., de3a_4love < Deea, hypocoristic form of the Romanian female first name Andreea, + for love; me_for3v3r_4u < me forever for you). On a semantic-pragmatic level, user names can be defined as follows: (1) They are replaceable: users have the possibility to give up a certain nick, to substitute it or to create a series of parallel nicks that can be employed simultaneously and are therefore valid (the virtual environment allows for the creation of “multiple identities”). A user can opt for an “official” id (a self-introductory designation used in formal, work-related circles, with superiors and co-workers, e.g., zimbru_razvan < surname + forename) and for one or several “unofficial” name variants that sometimes have a slang basis (such electronic names are used in informal circles, with friends or intimates, e.g., razviukbaietas < hypocoristic form of the male first name Răzvan + băieĠaú, slang term used in suburban milieus to refer to ‘a successful male person’). (2) They do not necessarily derive from anthroponyms (users’ real names or other designations they might prefer), as they can also be based on toponyms, ethnonyms, zoonyms etc. (3) They can acquire the status of nickname, by means of acknowledgment and recurrence. Members of real and/or virtual communities that a user belongs to, turn to nicks in various (direct or

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reported) discourse contexts. In this respect, user names (those whose underlying structure does not consist of one’s real name) facilitate the exact identification of a referent whenever there is the case of nominal overlapping/identity (several bearers of the same name in the same referential context). (4) They allow for an individual to exist “undercover.” Users can claim an identity that may be different from their real one; from this perspective, user names cannot be considered as identifying signs (in the real sense of the word) beyond the level of a self-envisaged, “handmade,” “Golem” identity.

Classification Owing to the flexibility and variety of the items that user names can consist of, it is difficult to make a taxonomic analysis of this class of proper names based on clearly delineated criteria. In the context considered (i.e., Yahoo! services), user names generally display lexicalsemantic configurations that (1) Point to bearers’ real identity by relying on their real names, typically accompanied by numbers that reveal users’ date of birth, lucky number, the year when the nickname was adopted or a random choice (for instance, when the handle a person decides on has already been taken and s/he has to make use of additional non-alphabetic characters to be able to keep it): - first name or hypocoristics: andreeutza_laura, andy_andrey278, anna_marya2391, cristinutza, ionella.ionella, irina_diana9, matilda_matil, oana_onuka13, roxy09_roxy09; - first name (full or hypocoristic form) and family name: andreea_maria_silimon, bud_madalina2000, cozmaalexandru89, dora_irimus, florinel.codrea, grumazfelicia, hosu_oana2001, ionelamuresan08, laurapop, mihai_mercas, nistor.georgel, ovidiu_bumb, pomian.codrina, raluca.rus03, szabo_ghita2012, vlad_costea; - nicknames: peti_poarta (< Rom. poartă ‘gate,’ for someone who used to be a goalkeeper in a football team). (2) Derive from proper/common names from several fields: - music: alex_velea (< Alex Velea, a Romanian singer), andy_ja_rule (< Ja Rule, an American rapper), justin_biber_4_ever (< Justin Bieber, a Canadian pop singer), leidigaga (< Lady Gaga), miky_heavy_drummer, ombladon74zalau (< Ombladon, a Romanian hip hop singer), pantera_rulz_15 (< Pantera, an American heavy metal band),

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raulito_eminem (< Eminem), radu_king_of_rap, roxette_allforlove (< Roxette), yo_rapp_yo; - cinema (films and actors): Banderas23, maria.hanna.montana (< Hannah Montana, the main character in the homonymous Disney sitcom), marcu_gostrider95 (gostrider < Ghost Rider), meg_yoana (< Meg Ryan), thir13ten_ghost (< Thir13en Ghosts); - cartoons/animations: dexters_lab (< Dexter’s Laboratory), eu_scooby (< Scooby Doo), stewie.rawrb (< Stewie, a character in the American animated sitcom Family Guy), viataculouie (based on the Romanian translation for Life with Louie); - sports: ady_stelistu_4ever (Rom. stelist ‘a supporter of the Romanian football club Steaua’), agent_fifa_2008, alin_ryder (< bike rider), bogdy_volei_campion (‘volleyball champion’), gg_hagi2000, jesus_of_streetball, morandi_realmadrid, robert_beckham, ronaldinho_thebest, u_biker_2010; - computer games: fermaveselă (ferma veselă ‘the happy farm’), shadow_lancer94, world_of_cs (< World of Warcraft + CS, Counter Strike); - cars: catalin_logan14 (< Dacia Logan); - fashion: armany_bogdan; - politics: silviu_prigoana (< Silviu Prigoană, the name of a Romanian politician). (3) Consist of names of animals, used for their affective connotations (terms from this sphere are usually meant to be suggestive of users’ physical, mental or emotional behaviour): cocostarc52 (cocostârc ‘stork’), motanulcelviteaz (‘the brave tomcat’), pisidragutza (‘cute kitten’), raluka_pisikutzza (pisicuĠă ‘kitten’), razvy_tigrul2008 (< hypocoristic form of Romanian male forename Răzvan + tigru ‘tiger’), viperaucigasa (‘the deadly viper’). Some such user names have sexual connotations: pisicutza_nebunatik (‘wild kitten’), tigresa_nebunatik89 (‘wild tigress’). (4) Comprise names related to flora: anamia_papadia (păpădie ‘dandelion’), tia_rose98. (5) Include terms related to colours. Chromatic preferences refer to bearers’ physical appearance, state of mind or fashion gusto: anne.blonde, andyblue_high, black_heart782, black_joker_j, blue_angel_andrada, bruneta_love29 (brunetă ‘brunette’), danyblack95, dark_mad091, golden1990, green_eyes_stefania, iri_bluesky, roscatzik_ani (roúcăĠică ‘little redhead’), think.pink, vise_colorate_roz (‘pink coloured dreams’), whiteandblue, white.angel_x. (6) Contain slang words, which relate to bearers’ wish to pertain to a certain subculture, i.e., street life. Quite often, this type of nicks is indicative of users’ virtual identity, which is not synonymous with their

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real identity (or mirrors the image they have of themselves): alinutza_fly_girl, bazatele_blocului (‘the bosses [f.] of the block of flats’), cristinelbarosan (slang term used to refer to ‘a slick, well-off man’), didi_pustoayca (puútoaică ‘a young woman, missy’), eduardojupanu_19 (jupân ‘boss’), florin_bazatu09 (bazat ‘(of a man) influential, well-off, bossy’), maria_smekera (úmecher ‘sly, slick’), miky_boss90, slick_G_girl, smecheritu_6, vladdy_bazatu, yonutzy_mafyotul (mafiot ‘mobster’). (7) Are based on words referring to sex and eroticism: alex_XXX, blonda_sexy (‘sexy blonde’), giulia_sexoasa (sexos ‘(of a person) sexually attractive’), hotlittle_darling, placeri_erotice24 (‘erotic pleasures’), paulmrsbadboy, purely.indecent, sexy_and_mean, sexy_baby, sexy_princesa_girl, show_erotic22. (8) Refer to users’ (real/“imaginary,” virtual) physical and/or behavioural (psychological and emotional) features: ady_the_b3st, ancutzika_free, angel_trist (‘sad angel’), anytta_butterfly, crista_crazygirl, daia_little_princess, deea2funny, electronic_smiley, funky_vlad, ghost_cristina, gya_nice_girl, ionut_lost, ktrink_theprincess, larisa_lucky_girl14, man_crazy_man007, nicolle_sweety, prettyboy_emkid, schizopath_kid, sergiu_the_kid, strange_girl_4ever, sweet_boy872003, sweet_girl_laura, un_pustan_nebun (‘a crazy kid’). (9) Consist of sentences: do_i_look_infected_00, dont.worry, eu_oiubesc_peana (‘I love Ana’), everyoneloveme91, find_an_angel_inthedark, heart_pound_in_chest, i_am_the_king, i_love_you_i_hate_you, metallica_is_ok, zambeste_mereu (‘always smile’).

Conclusion In agreement with the aforementioned studies on user names (Bechar Israeli 1995 Lakaw 2006 Scheidt 2001 Van Langendonck 2007), the authors of the present chapter believe that it is difficult to talk about a typological characterisation of this onomastic class in the perimeter of the Romanian language, as this nominal substitute is an imported product and therefore cannot be related to a single pattern of formation (albeit being most often based on the Anglo-American one). User names are the result of the association and combination of diverse naming patterns that are not characteristic of a system of onomastics in particular, as they are users’ free creations (verging on innovation). Naming patterns used in virtual Romanian prove prolific in the “real” variant of the language as well. Thus, speakers have the tendency to address or refer to someone using their user name/nick.

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References Amza, M.R. 2005. Forme úi trăsături ale comunicării mediate de computer. Limba română: structură úi funcĠionare. Actele celui de-al 4lea Colocviu al Catedrei de Limba Română (25-26 noiembrie 2004), 437443. Bucureúti: Universitatea din Bucureúti. Bechar-Israeli, H. 1995. From to : Nicknames, Play and Identity on Internet Relay Chat. Journal of Computer-Mediated Communication 1(2). http://jcmc.indiana.edu/vol1/issue2/bechar.html (accessed January 20, 2012). Coúeriu, E. 2000. LecĠii de lingvistică generală. E. Bojoga WUDQV . Chiúinău: Arc. Lakaw, A. 2006. Hiding behind nicknames. A linguistic study of anonymity in IRC chatrooms. http://lnu.diva-portal.org/smah/record.jsf?pid=diva2:206935 (accessed January 20, 2012). Scheidt, L.A. 2001. Avatars and Nicknames in Adolescent Chat Spaces. Gender and Computerization Spring 2001. http://loisscheidt.com/working_papers_archive/Avatars_and_Nicknam es.pdf (accessed January 20, 2012). Slama-Cazacu, T. 1999. Psiholingvistica—o útiinĠă a comunicării. Bucureúti: All Educational. Van Langendonck, W. 2007. Theory and Typology of Proper Names. Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter.

SECTION SIX: ZOONYMS

CAT-BREED NAMES IN CONTEMPORARY ROMANIAN ADRIANA STOICHIğOIU ICHIM AND MELANIA ROIBU Introductory remarks The present chapter is an attempt to identify the naming practices and patterns which are typical of a highly controversial onomastic category. Breed names still represent a neglected area not only in Romanian onomastics, but also in foreign literature, interested solely in the study of individual proper names given to animals (the so-called zoonyms).1 In recent years, Romanian specialists in onomastics have focused on morphological characteristics of zoonyms (Tomescu 1998: 61-66, 125-126, 196-202) and on the tendencies which are manifested in naming animals, mainly cats and dogs (Zafiu 2006 Andreica 2011 Felecan and Felecan 2012). Our interest in the category of cat-breed names (henceforth referred to as CBNs) is mainly motivated by the absence of any literature dealing with this topic; their special communicative functions and the great variety of name structures (transcending national boundaries) can also account for our choice. Since the mechanisms underlying these names are related to historical, geographical and ethno-cultural circumstances, the investigation of CBNs can prove of interest, not only to onomasticians, but also to other professional categories (such as social and cultural historians, veterinarians, cat breeders, members of cat clubs and associations, organizers of cat contests and exhibitions) and, last but not least, they may introduce laymen (the cat lovers) to the naming standards of pedigree cats.

1

According to Pamp (2000: 29), words for animal races, like bulldog and foxterrier, as well as words for species which evolved naturally, like oak and bluebell, are considered appellatives. A similar opinion is expressed in Iglesias Ovejero (2000: 46), who argues that unlike zoonyms, names for animal species or races do not fall into the onomastic categories.

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Despite the growing interest of the general public in CBNs and their gradual insertion in everyday use, only four of them—by far, the oldest and the most widespread—are listed in Romanian general dictionaries. According to NDU, the feminine forms of the ethnonyms birmanez, persan and siamez occur as specific elements in highly fixed phrases associated with the generic appellative pisică ‘cat’: pisică birmaneză ‘Burma cat,’ pisică persană ‘Persian cat,’ pisică siameză ‘Siamese cat.’ In everyday use, as a result of lexical conversion, birmaneză, persană and siameză are frequently found as common nouns (appellatives),2 while the noun Angora (< Fr. Angora; cf. Angora [Ankara]) is registered as a proper name given to some animal breeds (goats, rabbits, cats) characterised by long and smooth hair. The linguistic corpus under investigation consists of more than sixty CBNs, selected from two categories of Romanian sources: on the one hand, specialised encyclopaedic texts (CRCP), aimed at readers with specific knowledge; on the other hand, books (CP) and mass media (the Romanian monthly magazine Pisica ‘The Cat’ 2001-2012), designed for the general public. In order to identify similarities and idiosyncrasies between Romanian and English, via a contrastive approach, sixty seven English CBNs from a “complete encyclopaedia of cats” (CEC) have been taken into consideration. The specific purposes of our investigation have led to a bipartite organisation of the present chapter. In the first part we bring forward a theoretical framework for a synchronic socio-onomastic approach to CBNs, focusing on their particular status among other onomastic categories. The second part of the study is devoted to an analysis of the linguistic profile of CBNs, which are further classified from etymological, formal, lexical and semantic perspectives.

A socio-onomastic approach to CBNs Our key assumption is that CBNs included in specialised encyclopaedias (such as CEC and CRCP) can be looked upon as a hybrid category of names, which fulfils multiple functions and shares characteristics of scientific terms, proper names and common nouns (appellatives). CBNs can be interpreted as items belonging to a specific nomenclature, in view of several reasons. Firstly, they are deliberately coined (according 2

Similar conversions are possible in French (cf. Chat abyssin, birman. Chat angora, siamois, persan. Chartreux, in NPR: 409), as well as in English (cf. Persian cat, also Persian; Siamese cat, also Siamese, in OALD: 1083 1362).

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to pre-established naming rules) as standardised names meant to designate in a most unambiguous way a unique abstract entity (such as a newly created breed). Secondly, the naming criteria reflect an extralinguistic (encyclopaedic) classification: while the hundreds of dog breeds can be classified in terms of their original destination, for the numerous cat breeds resulted from hybridisations between the existing races, the most convenient general classification is based “on a physical characteristic that everyone can recognise: the length and type of coat” (CEC: 7). According to the aforementioned criteria, which have been officially agreed upon by the vast majority of cat clubs and associations as well as by international organisations,3 the three categories referred to in specialised texts are: short-haired breeds (Exotic, British/American [Shorthair], American Curl, American Wirehair, Chartreux, Russian Blue, Egyptian Mau etc.); semi-longhair breeds (Siamese [cat], Ragdoll, Scottish Fold, York Chocolate, Norwegian Forest [cat], Maine Coon, Siberian [cat], Turkish Van, Turkish Angora); long-haired breeds (Persian [cat]). The connection between CBNs and scientific nomenclatures/taxonomies is clearly proved by the series of names including a generic term, associated with specific modifiers that indicate physical characteristics (e.g., persana uni, persana bicoloră, persana tabby mackerel, persana chinchilla, persana colourpoint) or origin (Cornish Rex, Devon Rex). It is beyond the scope of this chapter to analyse the relationship between proper names and common nouns (appellatives) from a theoretical perspective, since the literature on this topic is extremely rich and controversial. Different understandings of terms and of their definitions attest to the diversity of current terminology (cf. Harvalík 2005) and to the fact that the positioning of onomasticians in relation to this issue depends on the particular school or trend they belong to.4 According to a widespread opinion, proper names are monoreferential, they serve to identify individuals and have no meaning,5 while appellatives 3

It is worth mentioning in passing that the first cat exhibition was organised in 1871, at Crystal Palace in London (by Harrison Weir, poet and well-known cat lover). In 1881, the first American cat show was staged at the Bunnel Museum in Boston. The first feline association, “National Cat Club,” founded in 1887, has been followed by major umbrella organisations, involved both in breeding and in the naming rules (for more information, see CRCP: 20-23 and CEC: 27-28). 4 See, among others, Tomescu (1998), Ainiala (1998), Akselberg (2005), Hedquist (2005), Sklyarenko and Sklyarenko (2005) and Van Langendonck (2005). 5 GuĠu Romalo (2005 I: 118-119) refers to the problematic status of proper names, previously defined in terms of either lack of meaning or richness of significance.

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are classifying expressions naming logically delimited classes of objects and each object of a class. In other words, from a functional point of view, common nouns designate objects, whereas proper names nominate them. In our opinion, this traditional division of nouns into two opposite classes is not only insufficient, but also inappropriate for the understanding of such a complex and heterogeneous category of names, i.e., CBNs. Consequently, following Sklyarenko and Sklyarenko (2005: 278) who argue that “there are many nouns which differently combine appellative and onomastic properties and are partially common nouns and partially proper nouns,” we consider CBNs as a particular class of names, which can be characterised according to their “degree of onomasticity” and to the mode of referring (either onymic or semantic reference).6 That is why, to laymen, for instance, the CBNs with the highest degree of onomasticity and the lowest degree of lexical meaning are primary (non-derived) toponyms which evoke the places where the respective breeds originated: Cymric (the Celtic name of Wales), Korat (designating a province in Thailand) or Sokoke (the name of a Kenyan forest). The CBNs possessing the lowest degree of onomasticity are regular appellatives (non-capitalised and familiar to the Romanian public), such as persană, birmaneză, siameză, derived with Romanian suffixes that are typical of ethnonyms/toponyms or metaphorical names, such as Ragdoll (owing the name to its gentle and docile behaviour) or Sphinx (a hairless cat with a strange look ). On an intermediate level between the above mentioned subclasses, we can distinguish the so-called appellative proper names (cf. Van Langendonck 2005: 316), such as the blended names Burmilla (< Burmese + Persan Chinchilla) and Ocicat (< Ocelot + cat) or descriptive expressions, such as Albastra de Rusia ‘Russian Blue,’ Norvegiana de pădure ‘Norwegian Forest Cat,’ Angora Turcească ‘Turkish Angora.’ With respect to the motivations underlying naming techniques, CBNs can be grouped in several different ways, according to the breeders’ source of inspiration. The overwhelming tendency is to name the natural breeds, as well as those developed by breeders, by taking into account their native place (country, region etc.): Van Turcească ‘Turkish Van’ (from the name of Lake Van, situated in Eastern Turkey), Mau egipteană ‘Egyptian Mau’ Yet, beyond this contradiction, the author lays emphasis on their being contextbound. 6 From the recent literature dealing with proper names, we retain the idea of “a continuum with those containing a transparent and clearly identifiable lexical meaning at one end and those having an incomprehensible lexical meaning at the other” (Ainiala 1998: 44).

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(where mau is the Egyptian word for cat), Japanese Bobtail, German Rex, Cornish Rex, Singapura (the Malaysian name of Singapore). Yet, in several cases, the geographical name can prove misleading, since the breed has nothing to do with the respective country, city etc.: Havana Brown, for instance, is an originally British breed, whose name refers to the colour of the coat; Bombay designates a pure black cat from the USA, its name evoking India and the black panther Bagheera, from Kipling’s Jungle Book. Physical characteristics—usually the colour and/or the pattern(s) of the coat—help motivate names like York Chocolate, California Spangled, Albastra de Rusia ‘Russian Blue.’ Other prominent features in terms of physical appearance or behaviour are responsible for semantically transparent names, such as Highland Fold and American Curl (due to their folded ears), Main Coon (referring to the flowing ringed tail, similar to that of racoons), Snowshoe (hinting at the white extremities of the cat’s paws), Balineză (‘Balinese [cat],’ motivated by the cat’s graceful movements, reminding of the Balinese dancers). Anthroponyms are extremely rare when it comes to CBNs: Selkirk Rex owes the first half of its name (Selkirk) to the American breeder’s godfather. A controversial etymology is associated with the name Chartreux, given to a blue, short-haired cat, named either after the homonymous monastery in France, where these cats have been living for centuries, or after the commercial label of a famous Spanish wool variety (pile des Chartreux). In several cases, CBNs have been inspired by the historical background, mythology, legends or religious beliefs: Sacra de Birmania ‘The Sacred Cat of Burma’ (another name for Birmaneza ‘Birman [cat]’) lies at the centre of legends narrating about cats living in a Burmese monastery or about their relationship with the Golden Goddess (‘ZeiĠa de Aur’), who protected the souls of the dead; [pisica] Van Turcească ‘Turkish Van’ owes its name to the legend of Noah’s Ark (‘Arca lui Noe’).7 The dynamic and open character of CBN terminology is clearly proved by its continuous enrichment with newly ‘manufactured’ or standardised names for new breeds, deliberately created by various crossings. Among these new or extremely rare names listed in CEC and/or in the magazine Pisica (‘The Cat’), we can mention: Snowshoe (an American breed that looks like an old style Siamese, with white extremities), Sokoke (a wild cat living in the Sokoke Forest in Kenya), German Rex (the earliest known 7

According to the legend, this cat escaped Noah’s Ark, to later reach the area of Lake Van, in Turkey.

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breed of cat with a curly coat, identified in Berlin, in 1946), Nebelung (the German word for mist being used to name a long-haired version of Russian Blue, brought from Russia after the fall of the Iron Curtain), Munchkin (an American breed, recently developed from a cat with extremely short legs).

A linguistic approach to CBNs The etymological perspective From an etymological point of view, we have identified two main classes of CBNs. Some of them have been borrowed as such and are used with the original English (British Shorthair, American Curl) and— exceptionally—French (Chartreux), German (Nebelung) or Spanish forms (Ojos Azules). Consequently, they appear as interlinguistic units, resulting in a mixture of Romanian and foreign phonetic traits, at the level of the significant, and in a possible opaqueness of meaning, at the level of the signifié.8 Other CBNs are highly motivated signs, since they result from a derivational process, the base of which is usually represented by an ethnonym or a toponym, followed by a suffix indicating origins: Eng. – ean, -ian, -ese ĺ Rom. –ean, -ian, -ez (European [cat] ĺ [pisică] Europeană, Norwegian Forest [cat] ĺ [pisică] Norvegiană de pădure, Siamese [cat] ĺ [pisică] siameză). One can notice a quasi-identity (in both formal and functional terms) between the original English names and their Romanian counterparts, since the suffixes used for deriving CBNs are almost identical in the two languages, which makes them very easy to adopt and adapt. Most of the English unadapted CBNs are technical denotative loans, objectively motivated by their specialised character and by globalisation, which favours the transfer of knowledge and of terminology. Yet, subjective motivations (such as the prestige of the foreign term or the snobbish behaviour pertaining to the so-called anglophile linguistic trend) and the well-known openness of the Romanian language to loanwords (Avram 1993) can account for the use of English CBNs, although they

8

These features of CBNs could attest to their autonymous behaviour, based on self-reference and the use of echoing techniques. For further information on autonymy, see Roibu (2010: 69-85).

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have appropriate Romanian equivalents9 (see Bobtail Japonez vs Japanese Bobtail, or Persana self vs Persana uni).

The formal perspective A formal classification may take into account the number of words underlying CBNs and the lexical material they incorporate. From this perspective, two classes of nouns appear as relevant: (1) simple nouns: – prototypical nouns, based on a metaphorical shift (Sfinx ‘Sphinx‘); – toponyms (Korat, Bombay, Chartreux); – former adjectives converted to nouns via ellipsis; they are usually derived from ethnonyms ([pisică] Persană ‘Persian [cat],’ [pisică] Siameză ‘Siamese [cat],’ [pisică] Tailandeză ‘Thai [cat]’) or toponyms ([pisică] Siberiană ‘Siberian [cat],’ [pisică] Europeană ‘European [cat],’ [pisică] Orientală ‘Oriental [cat],’ [pisică] Himalayană ‘Himalayan [cat]’). (2) compounds: – based on agglutination: (Ragdoll and Snowshoe: the names exploit specific metaphors and hint at a legend10 and at the cat’s physical appearance, respectively); – based on blending two common or proper nouns: Ocicat < Ocelot ‘wild cat from Central and South America’ + cat (here, the generic appellative cat has become an inseparable part of the name); Burmilla < Burmese + Chinchilla; Peterbald < Petersburg + bald.11 The overwhelming majority of CBNs consist of more than one word, i.e., two, three or four different words, which can be classified according to their syntactic and semantic structure. As noun phrases, they generally include a head and a modifier, the latter situated in either ante- or postposition. The head can be: – an ethnonym + word providing information about the cat’s coat (in terms of length: American/British Shorthair; aspect: American Wirehair), tail (Japanese Bobtail) or ears (Scottish fold, American Curl); 9

For a functional approach to English loanwords in contemporary Romanian, see StoichiĠoiu Ichim (2003, 2006). 10 A persistent myth is that the founder of the Ragdoll line—a white Persian pregnant female—was run over by a car. She miraculously survived and became exceptionally gentle, quiet and docile, flopping like a rag doll when picked up (CEC: 165). 11 The (Sphinx) Peterbald was created as a hairless cat in the city of Sankt Petersburg.

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– a colour name referring to the cat’s coat + a toponym indicating its origin: Albastra de Rusia ‘Russian Blue’;12 – a toponym + word providing information about colour, via metaphor (York Chocolate), pattern (California Spangled) or possible origin (Maine Coon, incorrectly explained by reference to the NP Maine racoon); – toponym/ethnonym + the Latin formative Rex, denoting the gene responsible for the curly hair of some cats and rabbits (cf. Astrex rabbits): Devon Rex/Cornish Rex/German Rex; – an ethnonym + a noun indicating the cat’s natural environment (Norvegiană de pădure ‘Norwegian Forest [cat]’). The Romanian CBNs resulted from translating foreign models are marked for the feminine gender, as a result of an implicit agreement with the generic term pisică ‘cat’ or even rasă ‘breed,’ which are subject to ellipsis. Yet, this is limited to the CBNs that have a Romanian counterpart; in all the other cases, the form of the CBNs remains stable, unmarked, preserving the original gender (masculine), spelling and pronunciation. CBNs are placed in-between proper names and common nouns, as proved by their resistance to the tests of synonymy and translation (when used in specialised texts), on the one hand, and by their openness to combinations with quantifiers, on the other hand. Consider, for instance, o [pisică] siameză ĺ ‘a Siamese (cat)’ vs două [pisici] siameze ĺ ‘two Siamese cats.’ In Romanian, the quantifiers corresponding to numbers “1” and “2” bear the marks of the feminine gender, which is not the case in English. As mentioned before, inside the category of (grammatical) gender, CBNs that have Romanian adaptations are normally included in the feminine class. Nevertheless, masculine forms, standing for natural gender, are not excluded and can be interpreted as having emerged by regressive derivation ([pisică] siameză > [pisic] siamez ‘Siamese tomcat’) (cf. CP: 304). With respect to the category of number, the situation is quite different in Romanian and English. The latter usually displays the plural mark just once, attached to the appellative cat, when it appears within the structure of CBNs. Otherwise, no exterior inflection is necessary, which triggers identity between the singular and the plural forms (The Siamese is/are lovely). On the contrary, when preserved in the structure of Romanian CBNs, one can speak of overmarkedness, since the plural marks are attached both to the generic term pisică and the former adjective turned into noun (the toponym). If the appellative is omitted, which is often the case in 12

The word order is reversed in English.

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contemporary Romanian, there is still no danger of confusion, since the toponym alone is capable of making the difference between the singular and the plural form, by replacing the singular ending –ă with the typical plural ending for feminine nouns, namely –e (siameză—sg. vs siameze— pl.). The grammatical homonymy in English can result in a double confusion: between the singular and the plural values, on the one hand, and between CBNs and ethnic names, on the other. CBNs that make it possible to distinguish between singular and plural forms, by adding the (e)s to the unmarked form (e.g., the Persians) still present the risk of creating confusions with the corresponding ethnonym, since in such situations English is not sensitive to the parameter [+/- human]. Romanian, however, unlike English, is very sensitive to the abovementioned parameter,13 avoiding both confusions: sg. vs pl. and [+human]—corresponding to ethnic names vs [-human]—describing CBNs. The first possible confusion is cancelled by the constant use of plural endings, while the second one, by resorting to different means of word formation: thus, lexical conversion, associated with ellipsis, accounts for the noun with the [-human] trait, i.e., the CBN (Norvegiană de pădure ‘Norwegian Forest [cat],’ whereas derivation with the suffix –că accounts for the word sharing the [+ human] trait, i.e., the ethnic name, feminine form (norvegiancă ‘Norwegian female inhabitant’). In the less technical discourse of mass media (the monthly magazine Pisica ‘The Cat’), the specific Romanian marks are attached to both proper and common nouns. Those marks could be either integrated in the word morphology (Ragdollul nu este o pisică agresivă. [Ragdoll is not an aggressive cat.]; Albastrele de Rusia sunt blânde, rezervate úi tăcute. [Russian Blue cats are gentle, shy and quiet.]), or separated by dash (Peterbald-ul nu se “dezbracă” imediat după naútere. [Peterbald does not “undress” immediately after birth,]; În ziua cat-show-urilor, mulĠi crescători freacă blana Bombay-ului cu o bucată de piele pentru a-i spori strălucirea. [On cat-show days, many breeders scrub the fur of the Bombays14 with a piece of leather, in order to increase its brightness.]). CBNs with no Romanian adaptations belong to the masculine gender15 (Ragdoll included, which contravenes the semantic criterion, since the Romanian generic term pisică is a feminine word).

13

For more details on this topic, see GuĠu Romalo (2005 I: 66-67). See also examples such as Bombays are usually placid cats, Maine Coons are extremely friendly, Turkish Vans are active cats, all registered in CEC. 15 This is yet another argument in favour of their autonymous derivation. 14

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The lexical-semantic perspective Most often, reference is made to cats’ origin or physical appearance. The first aspect accounts for the frequency of ethnonyms or toponyms within the structure of CBNs, where they usually function as modifiers. Regarding the second aspect, the speakers are mainly concerned with examining a cat’s coat, which can be referred to in terms of length (British/American Shorthair), aspect (American Wirehair), colour ([pisică] Albastră de Rusia ‘Russian Blue [cat]’) or pattern (California Spangled). Less often, a cat’s tail or ears are taken into consideration. Names such as Japanese Bobtail, American Curl or Scottish Fold can be invoked in support of this statement. Further classifications could rely on the way colour is expressed, either directly ([pisică] Albastră de Rusia ‘Russian Blue [cat]’) or indirectly (by reference to some items which are strictly connected to a certain colour: ciocolată ‘chocolate,’ lavandă ‘lavender,’ argint ‘silver,’ bronz ‘bronze,’ aur ‘gold(en),’ nisip ‘sable’). Sometimes, in order to make the description as accurate as possible, the speaker can resort to colour hues that can fully describe the cat’s coat (negru fum ‘smoky black,’ lila ‘lilac,’ gălbui ‘fawn,’ roúcat ‘ruddy,’ maro închis ‘sepia’). Yet, the word indicating colour rarely belongs to the CBN as a label. (This is the case of a name like Albastră de Rusia ‘Russian Blue,’ where the former chromatic adjective has turned into a noun.) More often than not, colour is merely suggested by means of prototypical nouns associated with certain colours/hues and is indicated only when it comes to subspecies that are differentiated on grounds of colour. The same is true about pattern, which can also be expressed either overtly (pătat ‘spotted’/‘blotched’/‘spangled’; tărcat/tigrat ‘tabby’) or covertly, via metaphor (macrou ‘mackerel,’ carapace de Ġestoasă ‘tortoiseshell’). Unlike proper names or scientific terms, some CBNs can have onomastic equivalents, falling roughly into two major categories: (1) Intralinguistic synonymy between:  archaic vs modern names: pisica din Arhanghelsk ‘Arhanghelsk Cat’ or Albastra din Arhanghelsk ‘Archangel Blue’ vs Albastra de Rusia ‘Russian Blue’;  denotative vs connotative names: birmaneza ‘Birman [cat]’ vs Sacra de Birmania ‘Sacred Cat of Birmania’;  one-term names vs noun phrases: bengaleza vs pisica Bengali ‘Bengali Cat’; Cymric vs Semi-longhair Manx.

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(2) Interlinguistic synonymy between:  indigenous vs international (English) or Romanian terms: Supalak or Thon Daeng vs Burmese [cat]; Norsk Skaukatt vs Norwegian Forest Cat, Norvegiana de pădure;  English/foreign vs Romanian term: Turkish Angora vs Angora Turcească; American Wirehair vs [Pisica] Americană cu păr aspru. By far, the most interesting examples of parallel names are to be found in the journalistic discourse where besides official, standardised CBNs, one can also notice other means of identification. What distinguishes them from conventional, rational naming is their expressive function, destined not only to convey positive emotional values, but also to capture the readers’ attention. Such alternative names (selected from the publication Pisica ‘The Cat’) can refer—metaphorically—to the cat’s physical appearance and/or behaviour (Maine Coon—“gigantul/uriaúul bland” ‘the gentle giant’; Burmeza—“pisica de bronz a Siamului/Tailandei” ‘the bronze-coloured cat of Siam’; Ocicat—“un leopard în miniatură/pisica leopard” ‘a leopard in miniature’/‘the leopard cat’). In other cases, the alternative naming technique hints at the etymology or at the meaning of CBNs (Snowshoe— “motanul încălĠat,” a free translation evoking Ch. Perrault’s title Puss in Boots; Nebelung—“felina care aduce ceaĠa” ‘the feline that brings mist,’ since the CBN is the German word for mist). Last but not least, it could simply show creativity and admiration for those lovely creatures (Burmilla—“vrăjitoarea de inimi” ‘the witch of hearts’; Birmaneza— “prinĠesa cu privirea albastră” ‘the blue-eyed princess’; Devon Rex—“un clovn plin de viaĠă” ‘a lively clown’).

Concluding remarks Despite their ambiguous status among other onomastic categories, bordering scientific terms, proper names and common nouns (appellatives), CBNs prove to be quite homogeneous as regards the way they coin extralinguistic information, displaying a clear tendency towards using motivated signs. This is manifest in the connection that is very easy to make between names and cats’ origin, on the one hand, and names and cats’ physical appearance, on the other. In the first case, the ethnonym/toponym that has become part of the name relies on a derivational process, while in the second case, the relationship is mediated by different senses, mainly by reactions to visual and sometimes tactile stimuli. More precisely, one can think of a

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metonymic process, since a part, considered relevant for the cat’s external aspect, has become prominent and permeated the name. Most often, this part addresses the sight, drawing attention to the cat’s coat (colour, length, pattern), tail (length) or ears (shape). Accidentally, the transfer can be realised by means of touching, being associated with a metaphor (like in the case of American Wirehair). Yet, it is worth mentioning that only one CBN from our corpus relies on temperamental features of the cats (Ragdoll suggests a docile behaviour, via metaphorical shift). To fill in the blanks, users often resort to parallel connotative names, able to supply the concrete information with more abstract data about the cats’ behaviour. CBNs based on the use of toponyms are motivated both linguistically (the derived toponym, as related to its base) and extralinguistically (the toponym attesting to the cat’s origin). Those based on a physical/ temperamental characteristic of the cat are motivated only from an extralinguistic perspective. Actually, motivation of linguistic signs and “onomasticity” seem to enter a reverse ratio relationship: the higher the motivation, the lower the onomasticity and vice versa (compare, for instance, names containing derived toponyms, such as [pisică] siameză ‘Siamese [cat],’ [pisică] himalayană ‘Himalayan [cat],’ on the one hand, and CBNs that are homonymous with primary toponyms, like [pisică] Korat ‘Korat [cat]’ and [pisică] Sokoke ‘Sokoke [cat],’ on the other hand—the first two CBNs correspond to weak onomasticity,16 whereas the others account for strong onomasticity, since the name is less transparent as a result of the fact that it is contextually associated with a different reality). Numerically, of the CBNs containing only toponyms/ethnonyms, the ones usually obtained by derivational means are less frequent than the compound CBNs. Yet, this should come as no surprise, since the latter naming technique allows the user to provide more information concerning the cat’s origin as well as its physical appearance. Moreover, the preference for compounds based on toponyms as modifiers can account for the fact that some varieties are expected to appear within the “same” cat breed, the difference being made only by reference to the cat’s origin (British/American Shorthair). Still, it is this very openness to various naming patterns and lexical areas (oscillating from loanwords to free adaptations and expressive equivalents) that makes the category of CBNs a peculiar multi-sided phenomenon, which is worth investigating not only by onomasticians, but also by researchers from other linguistic fields. 16

Which explains the oscillations in their spelling, with either capital or regular characters.

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References Ainiala, T. 1998. On defining the proper name and the place name. In Proceedings of the XIXth International Congress of Onomastic Sciences Aberdeen, August 4-11, 1996: Vol. 1, W.F.H. Nicolaisen (ed.), 43-48. Aberdeen: University of Aberdeen. Akselberg, G. 2005. The structure of the onomasticon and name classification. In Proceedings of the 21st International Congress of Onomastic Sciences Uppsala, August 19-24, 2002: Vol. 1, E. Brylla and M. Wahlberg (eds.), 67-78. Uppsala: Språk-och folkminnesinstitutet. Andreica, A. 2011. RelaĠia dintre antroponime úi zoonime în Baia Mare [The relationship between anthroponyms and zoonyms in the city of Baia Mare]. In Name and Naming. Proceedings of the International Conference on Onomastics. 1st Edition: Multiethnic connections in anthroponymy, Baia Mare, 19-21 September 2011, O. Felecan (ed.), 585-589. Cluj-Napoca: Mega. Avram, M. 1993. La créativité et l’«hospitalité» du roumain. Revue roumaine de linguistique XXXVIII (1-3): 23-26. CEC = Verhoeff, E. 2007. The complete encyclopedia of cats, 5th edition. Gröningen: TextCase. CP = Moore, A. 2008. Comportamentul pisicii. Cartea tuturor răspunsurilor [The cat behaviour answer book]. P. M. Luttman (trans.). Bucureúti: House of Guides. CRCP = Capra, A., and D. Robotti 2001. Cunoaúterea, recunoúterea úi creúterea celor mai recunoscute rase de pisici din lume [Cognition, recognition and breeding of the world’s best-known cat breeds]. R. Gâdei (trans.). Bucureúti: ALFFA. Felecan, D., and O. Felecan 2012. Considérations concernant les zoonymes: attribution et classification des noms dans le cas des chats de compagnie. In Onomàstica d’origen zoonímic i de circulació dels pobles mediterranis, E. Casanova (ed.), 85-98. València: Editorial Denes. GALR = GuĠu Romalo, V. (ed.). 2005. Gramatica limbii române, I, Cuvântul [The grammar of Romanian language, I, The word]. Bucureúti: Editura Academiei Române. Harvalík, M. 2005. Towards a new millennium—towards a common onomastic terminology? In Proceedings of the 21st International Congress of Onomastic Sciences Uppsala, August 19-24, 2002: Vol. 1, E. Brylla and M. Wahlberg (eds.), 160-171. Uppsala: Språk-och folkminnesinstitutet.

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Hedquist, R. 2005. The meaning of proper names. In Proceedings of the 21st International Congress of Onomastic Sciences Uppsala, August 19-24, 2002: Vol. 1, E. Brylla and M. Wahlberg (eds.), 172-184. Uppsala: Språk-och folkminnesinstitutet. Iglesias Ovejero, A. 2000. Pour une terminologie univoque de la désignation onomastique. Noms de Noms Propres. In Onomastik. Akten des 18. Internationallen Kongresses für Namenforschung, Trier, 12.-17. April 1993: Band II, R. Srámek and D. Kremer (eds.), 41-57. Tübingen: Max Niemeyer Verlag. NDU = Oprea, I., Pamfil, R. Radu and V. Zăstroiu. 2009. Noul dicĠionar universal al limbii române [The new universal dictionary of Romanian], 3rd edition. Bucureúti-Chiúinău: Litera InternaĠional. NPR = Le Nouveau Petit Robert (sous la direction de J. Rey-Debove et A. Rey). 2004. Paris: Dictionnaires Le Robert. OALD = Hornby, A. S. 2005. Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary of Current English, 7th editon. S. Wehmeier (chief ed.). Oxford: Oxford University Press. P = Pisica [The Cat Magazine] (2001-2012). Pamp, B. 2000. Towards a classification of proper names. In Onomastik. Akten des 18. Internationallen Kongresses für Namenforschung, Trier, 12.-17. April 1993: Band II, R. Srámek and D. Kremer (eds.), 25-30. Tübingen: Max Niemeyer Verlag. Roibu, M. 2010. On Autonymy (with Reference to Romanian). Revue Roumaine de linguistique 55 (1, January-March): 69-85. Sklyarenko, A., and O. Sklyarenko 2002. Interrelationship between common nouns and proper nouns. In Proceedings of the 21st International Congress of Onomastic Sciences Uppsala, August 19-24, 2002: Vol. 1, E. Brylla and M. Wahlberg (eds.), 276-282. Uppsala: Språk-och folkminnesinstitutet. StoichiĠoiu Ichim, A. 2003. “Romgleza”: opĠiune personală sau efect al globalizării? [‘Romgleza’: individual option or effect of the globalization process?]. In Identitate românească úi integrare europeană [Romanian identity and European integration], G. Gabor (ed.). 95-103. Bucureúti: Ars Docendi. —. 2006a. Aspecte ale influenĠei engleze în româna actuală [Aspects of English influence upon present-day Romanian]. Bucureúti: Editura UniversităĠii din Bucureúti Tomescu, D. 1998. Gramatica numelor proprii în limba română [The grammar of proper names in Romanian]. Bucureúti: All Educational. Van Langendonck, W. 2005. Proper names and proprial lemmas. In Proceedings of the 21st International Congress of Onomastic Sciences

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Uppsala, August 19-24, 2002: Vol. 1, E. Brylla and M. Wahlberg (eds.), 315-323. Uppsala: Språk-och folkminnesinstitutet. Zafiu, R. 2006. Nume de animale [Animal names]. România literară 32, 11 August.

PART V: MISCELLANEA

GRAPHEMIC PUNS AND SOFTWARE MAKING THEM UP: THE CASE OF HEBREW VS CHINESE AND JAPANESE YAAKOV HACOHEN-KERNER, DANIEL NISIM COHEN, EPHRAIM NISSAN AND GHIL‘AD ZUCKERMANN Introduction Research in computational humour has often been dealing with puns, but to be precise, these are phonetic puns that work by phono-semantic matching. In some national cultures, owing to the nature of their respective script, graphemic puns are a productive cultural practice with a timehonoured place in those civilisations. We consider examples from Chinese, Japanese and Hebrew. In particular, Jewish homiletics often indulges in wordplay, which comprises onomastic wordplay. Such wordplay is often graphemic, exploiting the fact that the Hebrew script is consonantal and that when you read aloud, you are supplementing the written string with the vowels to yield extant words, based on lexicon, morphology and syntactic and semantic context. Software developed by the team in Jerusalem to support homiletics takes as input a personal name and decomposes and/or transforms it (by adding or deleting letters), so that the output is a sequence of extant words. Experiments were carried out, as to how often human users felt that such output carries meaning appropriately. The automated pun generators of Graeme Ritchie’s team (e.g., Manurung et al. 2008) are well-known in the computational humour research community. Such pun generators are for the English language and therefore such puns are invariably sound-alikes. Some cultures with suitable writing systems also appreciate or even privilege graphemic puns. We have new software producing graphemic puns for Hebrew, and in this chapter we also briefly discuss Chinese and Japanese graphemo-

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semantic matches (in relation to phono-semantic matches) for lexical nativisation: international terms have been, in those Far Eastern languages, so adapted as to appear as though they were native terms formed within the respective recipient language. Lexical nativisation is rather widespread in such languages as Republican Turkish, Israeli Hebrew, Icelandic, and so forth. Nissan et al. (in press) is recommended reading. The next two sections are concerned with this. In particular, “Software manipulation of…” provides examples of lexical nativisation from present-day Chinese and Japanese.

Lexical nativisation and camouflaged borrowing Until Zuckermann (2000, cf. 2003, 2006), linguists had not studied camouflaged hybridity in neologisation systematically and treated it dismissively. Traditional classifications of borrowing ignore the phenomenon and, much worse, categorise borrowing into either substitution or importation, whereas phono-semantic matching (PSM) is a case of simultaneous substitution and importation. This oversight would have been understandable had PSM existed only in the intriguing case of Israeli Hebrew. However, the phenomenon is widespread in two key language categories: (1) “reinvented” languages, in which language-planners attempt to replace loanwords they felt to be undesirable and which include Israeli Hebrew and Revolutionised (i.e., Republican) Turkish; and (2) languages using “phono-logographic” script, e.g., Chinese and Japanese (in the latter—to the extent that kanji ideograms are used). For example, when in 1890 the now usual Hebrew term mišqafáyim for ‘glasses,’ ‘spectacles,’ was proposed by Chaim Leyb Hazan, it was regularly derived from a Biblical Hebrew root, ¥šqp, for ‘to see,’ but the proponent stated: “I chose it because of its similarity to the Greek word ıțȠʌȑȦ (‘I look at’), which appears in the names of all glass lenses in the languages of Europe: telescope, microscope, kaleidoscope and the like.” The word is a camouflaged borrowing in which a foreign lexical item is matched with a phonetically and semantically similar pre-existent native word/root. Moreover, it can be seen as a multi-sourced neologism that preserves both the meaning and the (approximate) sound of the parallel expression in the source language, using pre-existent target-language elements. Let SL stand for source language and TL stand for target language. We have then a formula as follows:

Graphemicc Puns and Softw ware Making T Them Up

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SL: x ‘a’ Æ TL (+PSM): y‰ y ‘a‰’ Å TL: y ‘b’ x is phonetically y similar to y Word y‰ is based b on y W Word sense a‰ is based on a

Examp ples of the ph henomenon from Chineese and Japa anese The examplees in this sectiion were seleccted by Zuckeermann. Example 1. The formatioon by PSM of the Modern S Standard Chinese term šƝƝngnà

for ‘sonar’

combines thhe contribution of sonar < sound naviga gation and ran nging (by trying to aapproximate the t sound off the word ssonar) and of o native compoundinng of šƝng

‘sound’ and d nà

‘receeive.’

Example 2. In Modern Sttandard Chineese, the term bƝntténg

for ‘Pentium,,’

was made too sound like Pentium, P but natively n the neew compound d bƝnténg literally meaans: ‘ ‘gallop, surge forward’ < < bƝnn

‘run quiickly’ + téng

‘jump, gaallop; rise, soaar,’

a positive cooncept for braanding. Example 3.. In Modern Standard S Chin nese, the worrd hacker wass adapted into hƝikè

,

which in Maandarin Chineese is interpretted as a compound:

HaCohen-K Kerner, Cohen, Nissan N and Zucckermann

hƝi

‘black’ + kè k

551

‘visitoor.’

It is the nam me of a particuular literary character, who is a robber. Example 4.. In London, Savile S Row iss where costlyy men’s suits are sold. Savile Row w was adapted into Japanese as a for ‘ssuit-jacket, blaazer.’

sebiro

It is no meere phonetic adaptation, as the sense oof kanji ideograms of Chinese origgin is involvedd: se

‘back (of the body), shouldders.’

(The same iddeogram withh the same sen nse is read bèi in MSC.) + bbiro For Japanese guăng.

‘broaad, wide’ (= hiro h by the rulee of rendaku). Chinese has

an nd in Modern Standard Chiinese

Features of the Heb brew scriptt resulting iin several options o for interprretation Arguablyy even more than with the Chinese annd Japanese script, s the Hebrew scriipt is a major factor f in how successful thee output is felt to be by human users and this because at the graphemic g levvel (the writin ng, if we w are disregard suuch details as final and non-final formss of a letter, which graphic valuues of the sam me grapheme), Hebrew text consists of co onsonants and also som me letters usedd as matres lectionis, i.e., m mute letters (raather than in their valuue as consonaants) which ho old the place of a subset of vowels; e.g., w for [oo] or [u], y foor [i] or [e]. (O Only for poetrry, or in printeed Bibles, or in prayerr books, are diiacritical mark ks for vowelss added abovee or under written word leends itself the letters.) Combinatoriaally, the same vowel-less w wels inserted by the human reader r in a varriety of config gurations, to have vow but these arre constrainedd by the word d-forms alloweed by derivational and inflectional morphology.

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Graphemicc Puns and Softw ware Making T Them Up

The worrd written ‹r䁛䁛› can be read ra‘ ‘evil’ or réa‘ ‘friend.’ Ann anecdote rellates that a medieval m schoolar from Fraance—the famous Rabbbi Shlomo Yits·chaki Y ʩʷʧʶʩ ʤʮʬʹ ʩʡʸʸ (Solomon Isacides), usually refeerred to acronnymously as Rashi ʩ"ʹʸ ((1040-1105)— —went to visit, while in Spain, a Hebrew H poet, but b the latter’s relatives tolld him he hat a dress waas missing and d thought was not at hhome. They thhen noticed th the strange vvisitor had stoolen it. They trraced him andd forced him to t pay for it. He wrotee five times on o the door the t word ‹šlmh› which w left them puzzleed. When the poet p returned home, he undderstood that this t was a full sentencee which was asking a reproacchfully:

“Šalláma (why) ( salmá (a ( dress) šelem má (full) šillemáh (paid for it) Šelomó (Soloomon)?” He then went after thhe visitor (thee famous Rashhi), appeased d him and brought him m home. Suppposedly, the poet was Ye Yehudah ha-Leevi (born between 10880 and 1085, and a last heard d of with certaainty at the tim me he was in Egypt, aroound 1140, with w the intention to continuee to the Holy Land). In all likelihoood, this is a legend. It neevertheless shhows the presstige that accrues, in Jewish culturre, from “doiing things wiith words” in Hebrew. Both the scrript and the grammar are conducive to thiis. Unsurpriisingly (as usuual in folkloree studies abouut folktales) th here exist variations oof this story. For F example, an unknownn traveller din nes at the table of a raabbi, the servvant notices th hat the rabbi’ss coat has dissappeared and suspectss the new visiitor, and nobo ody knows thaat this is Rash hi, who is travelling inn order to perrform a particcular ascetic ppractice, an “exile,” in Hebrew gallút (or in Easttern European n pronunciatioon: gólis), kno own from among som me pious Jewish men of reeligion in Easstern Europe from the second half of the eighteeenth century or the early ninneteenth centu ury. R was adapted to a cultural reality thaat existed That the story about Rashi Europe seven centuries lateer is an example of what in n folklore in Eastern E studies is caalled oikotypissation.

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Software manipulation of input personal names in a tool for Hebrew “homiletics” We now report about a software tool recently implemented and tested by the team in Jerusalem: fed a one-word input typically being a personal given name, either segments it, or modifies it (by letter insertion, deletion or replacement), or both, then possibly segmenting it, so that the output is a list of words extant in the lexicon of the same language as the input. For each given name in a certain language, we try to propose various creative words or sequences of words in the same language as the name given as input. The team defined a model that looks for possible similar words (either in spelling or in sound) for any given name. In order to maximise candidate alternative outputs for an input given name, we generate “all possible” strings that can serve as elements of a pseudoexplanans output for the given name (which is the explanandum). Firstly, we divide the given word into all possible kinds of sequences of subwords starting at words that contain only one letter. Only sequences that are composed of extant words are counted as elements of a candidate output. Secondly, we try to generate similar/close words, from the spelling viewpoint, using three types of transformations: deletion of a letter, insertion of a letter, a replacement of a similar letter. Each generated string is checked to see whether it is an extant word or a sequence of several extant words. The checks are done by using an efficient double hashing search in a big hash table that includes the lexicon words in a certain language. The runtime of a certain search is 4(C) in the average case. Examples of groups of Hebrew letters that either sound similarly or are allographs of the same grapheme include: ʲ – ʤ - ʠ, ʡ - ʥ , ʵ - ʶ - ʦ, ʺ – ʨ, ʷ - ʫ and ʱ – ʹ. The model “knows” that. In order to find out how good instances of the output are perceived to be by human users, answers to questioning were subjected to a statistical analysis.

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Graphemic Puns and Software Making Them Up

A few commented examples of input and output with segmentation only We tabulate the examples, with a brief commentary for each appearing inside the table of the particular example. In the present section, we consider such examples from whose input the output was derived by merely segmenting the input into words extant in the Hebrew lexicon, with no letter added or deleted: 1

Input: ¦¢Ÿ¨¡ (Khamutal) Output sequence: ¦¢ (3) Ÿ (2) §¡ (1) (kham ve-tal, ‘it’s hot and there is dew’) Mode: segmentation, no transformation. N.B.: We felt this contrast is funny. The input and output sound different.

2

Input: ¡Ÿ²®š (efroach, ‘chick’) Output sequence: ʧʥʸ (2) ʳʠ (1) (af revakh, ‘there is no profit’) Mode: segmentation, no transformation. N.B.: The input is a common name, not a proper name. We felt this output is puzzling, perhaps nonsensical. It would require imagination to make sense of.

3

Input: ¦š£¨ ¡²£ (Yerakhme’el, Jerachmeel) Output sequence: ¦š (3) £¨ (2) ¡²£ (1) (yareach, mi El? ‘O Moon! Who is G-d?’) Mode: segmentation, no transformation. N.B.: At least one of us was puzzled and even felt this output is undesirable, because perhaps blasphemous. However, another one of us came up with the idea of considering this a question and applying it to a well-known narrative about Abraham, who before he became a monotheist, turned to the sun, the moon and the stars, wondering about the Divine in the world. Therefore, the output could be ascribed to Abraham at that phase in his spiritual quest. There is a small disadvantage, because the input and output sound a bit different.

A few commented examples of input and output with letters inserted and/or deleted In the present section, we consider such examples from whose input the output was derived by not only segmenting the input, but also inserting or deleting a letter, so that the segments would each match some word extant in the Hebrew lexicon:

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4

Input: ž²ª«¥¦š (Aleksandra, Alexandra) Output string: ž²ª«¬¥¦š which was then segmented ž²ª «¬¥ ¦š of which, for a human user, two readings are possible: (11a) one naming the G-d in an unsuitable context, but the other one being (11b) al ka‘as nidrah ‘“No anger” her vow [is]’ Mode: 1 letter inserted + segmentation. N.B.: (11a) has a negative meaning, but (11b) has a positive one.

5

Input: ²´£›š (Evyatar, Ebiatar) Output: ²´Ÿ£›žš then segmented into the sequence ²´Ÿ£ (2) ›žš (1) which the human user reads as ahav yoter, ‘he loved more.’ Mode: 2 letters inserted + segmentation. N.B.: This output may “make sense.”

6

Input: ±Ÿ±›¡ (Chavakkuk, Habakkuk) Output: ±Ÿ±¡ ‘engraved’ or ‘legislated.’ Mode: 1 letter deleted. N.B.: This output may “make sense,” provided that you search the book of Habakkuk for some verse for which either sense of the output is apt. Note that ‘engraved’ may be a metaphor for ‘lasting.’

7

Input: ›¦¡« (sakhlav, ‘orchid’) Output: ›¦¦¡³ then segmented into the sequence ›¦¦ (2) ¡³ (1) which can be read as sakh la-lev, ‘it speaks to the heart.’ Mode: 1 letter deleted; 1 letter added. N.B.: This output “make excellent sense.”

DARSHAN, an automated generator of homilies DARSHAN (HaCohen-Kerner et al. 2007) put software in the service of Jewish homiletics. Based on Scripture and a traditional repertoire of rabbinic sources, DARSHAN generates ranked sets of either one-sentence or one-paragraph homilies. Functions in DARSHAN include: (a) puns or double entendres (traditionally called in Hebrew lashon nofel ‘al lashon, i.e., literally ‘a tongue/wording falling on a tongue/wording’), (b) searching for an occurrence elsewhere in the textual canon, (c) interpretation as acronyms,

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Graphemic Puns and Software Making Them Up

(d) numerological (gematric) interpretations (of nine different traditional kinds), (e) word or letter replacement, and (f) quoting from Scripture or other texts from the traditional religious canon. DARSHAN’s Sitz im Leben (i.e., that software’s place in real life) is that oftentimes Jewish lay congregants give sermons, but being relatively untrained, they do not have as wide a scope of reference within the rabbinic textual canon or even the Hebrew Bible for them to produce homilies confidently. Which homiletic devices were developed and are applied by DARSHAN was suggested by how traditionally homilies were devised.

References HaCohen-Kerner, Y., T. S.-T. Avigezer and H. Ivgi. 2007. The Computerized Preacher: A Prototype of an Automatic System that Creates a Short Rabbinic Homily (In Hebrew.) B.D.D. (Bekhol Derakhekha Daehu): Journal of Torah and Scholarship 18: 23-46. Manurung, R., G. Ritchie, H. Pain, A. Waller, D. O’Mara and R. Black. 2008. The Construction of a Pun Generator for Language Skills Development. Applied Artificial Intelligence 22 (9): 841-869. Nissan, E., Y. HaCohen-Kerner and G. Zuckermann. (Forthcoming). Automating the Mimologiques: Weaving an Etymythology Step by Step. In Research into Verbal Creativity, Humour and Computational Humour, Vol. 3 of Language, Culture, Computation: Essays in Honour of Yaacov Choueka, N. Dershowitz and E. Nissan. Berlin: SpringerVerlag. Zuckermann, G. 2000. Camouflaged Borrowing: Folk-Etymological Nativization in the Service of Puristic Language Engineering. D.Phil. Dissertation in Modern Languages, University of Oxford. —. 2003. Language Contact and Lexical Enrichment in Israeli Hebrew. (Palgrave Studies in Language History and Language Change.) London: Palgrave Macmillan. —. 2006. “Etymythological Othering” and the Power of “Lexical Engineering” in Judaism, Islam and Christianity. A SocioPhilo(sopho)logical Perspective. Chapter 16 in Explorations in the Sociology of Language and Religion, T. Omoniyi and J.A. Fishman (eds.), 237-258. Amsterdam: Benjamins.

NAMING YOUR CAR: PERSONALISED NUMBER PLATES IN MALTA JOSEPH M. BRINCAT

In the United Kingdom personalised number plates are big business. The fad of giving the personal touch to one’s car was immediate. It is said that when the government decided to introduce number plates for cars in 1903, “a man named Earl Russell camped outside the vehicle registration office all night in order to make sure he was issued with the UK’s first number plate, the fabulous A 1!” (www.carreg.co.uk/number-plates/). Mr Russell paid £25 for it but the last time the same plate was registered, in 2003, it went to the member of a foreign royal family and was stuck on a white Bentley Azure. Reselling it now would bring in an estimated 5 million pounds. The game changed a bit in 1963 when the “suffix” letter was introduced. The last letter on the plate signified the year in which the car was bought. There were financial and administrative consequences because it was noticed that a sizeable number of buyers would wait till January before buying a car, so as to enjoy the privilege of showing that it was new for a longer time! In order to avoid the rush, in 1967 the authorities changed the letter in the month of August instead of January and kept doing so till 1983, when the system was changed again. From 1983 to 2001 the letter indicating the year of registration was brought forward and was called the “prefix year.” From 2011 onwards UK car number plates must have seven characters: two letters, two numbers, a space and three letters. Desirable number plates are sold by auction by the DVLA, a government agency within the Department of Transport, called Driver and Vehicle Licensing Agency, based in Swansea with a network of offices all over Great Britain, managing about 30 million vehicle licences. There is a thriving market for cherished or personalised plates, which fills whole pages of the national newspapers and dedicated websites. The aforementioned website advertises “specials” like: FI4TTS (Fiat TS), which commands £2,299, and the sexy LUS 5T (lust) that will cost £4,495. Whoever gets the sporty TEN IIS (tennis) or the personal TED IIY and

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Naming Your Car: C Personalised Number Plaates in Malta

TAN I4A (Teddy and Tania) Ta will haave to fork oout £9,950. In nstead of buying prevviously issuedd plates, one can make upp one’s own plate by choosing a ssequence of letters and num mbers, with ccertain restricttions, and pay only bettween £170 annd £250.

Figure 1

In the issland of Maltaa (the only European E statee where cars are a righthand drive aas in Britain) personalised number n platess were introdu uced very recently, in 1995, when thhe combinatio on of three lettters and threee numbers o can acccept a random m combination n and pay came into foorce. Vehicle owners just €35, or they may chooose the letterrs and numbeers they want and get a personalisedd number platee for €200. If they prefer a customised plate, p they can choose aany combination of letters and/or numbeers up to nine digits for €1500. How wever, certain combinationss which are ddeemed not ap ppropriate to be used aas a registratioon number or are morally ooffensive are withheld. There is a code for certaiin categories such s as passennger transportt vehicles Y ***, leased cars *QZ 111, cargo *PY 111, hhire cars *LY 111 or *GY carriers *GV V 111, vintagee buses *XY 111, route buuses (Arriva) BUS B 111, taxis in Maalta TAXI M 111, and tax xis in Gozo T TAXI G 111 (in these examples thhe “*” stands for f another lettter, freely choosen, and “111” stands for any threee numbers). Government owned vehiclles are markeed by the first two leetters “GV” and a another distinguishingg letter, e.g.,, “P” for “Police” carrs (GVP 111), “A” for the “A Armed Forcess” (GVA 111), and “H” for the “Minnistry of Health” (GVH 111 1). Cars belonnging to the diplomatic corps are m marked “CD* 111” and Ministers’ M cars have “GM” and two

Joseph M. Brincat

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numbers. Thhe only vehiccles without letters l or num mbers are tho ose of the President off the Republic and of the Arrchbishop, whhich bear the respective r emblem on tthe plate.

Figure 2

The sysstem of threee letters and d three num mbers allows personal combinationns whereby certain numbers represent lletters of the alphabet that they ressemble. As wee have seen in n the few exam mples given ab bove, this code was deevised in the UK. U The zero and the numbber one (“1”) obviously o replace the letters “O” and a “I” (and vice versa), whereas the numbers ght” replace “A A,” “S,” “G,”” “T” and “four,” “fivee,” “six,” “sevven” and “eig “B” respectiively, thanks to t their graphiic resemblancce: 4 = A, 5 = S, 6 = G, 7 = T. The nnumber “threee” represents the letter “E,” requiring a little effort because the back and the front are inveerted, 3 = E. T The other letters of the mbers, and thiis limits the amount a of alphabet cannnot be repressented by num possibilities. However, nuumber “one” is i sometimes also used for the letter M combiinations are m much more traansparent “L.” On thee whole the Maltese than the Brittish ones, as thhey can be reaad more easilyy.

Numb bers Despite the restrictioons, car own ners have shoown a wide range of mber plate thatt displays ingenious sttratagems. The simplest forrm is the num numbers onlly, because thhe written form m of four Engglish numberss contains only three leetters: “ONE,” “TWO,” “S SIX,” “TEN,” and for the others o one can take thee liberty of dropping d a lettter for a slighhtly irregular spelling:

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Naming Your Car: C Personalised Number Plaates in Malta

“TRI,” “FO OR,” “FIV,” “SEV,” “NIN”” (3, 4, 5, 7, 9). In this way w a car owner can pplace four digiits on his/her number plate:: ONE 955, TWO T 283, FIV 500, SIIX 166; and even e five witth the word teen: TEN 687 (10687). One can alsso repeat the same numberr to make it eeasily memoraable: TRI 333. This caan also be donne by using Roman R numerrals: VII 777, XIX 187 (this could sshow one’s birthday, b 19.01 1.1987). Somee Italian num mbers also have three leetters (uno, duue, tre, sei) an nd can be usedd in various ways: w TRE 727, SEI 1000 (seicento).. Dates can be b shown as OCT 553 (O October 5, 1953) APR 001 (April 1 is also known as April Fools’ Day). Easy-toremember pplates can alsoo be invented by repeating tthe same letteer and the same numbeer three times:: CCC 777, NNN N 999, VVV V 777. Anotheer playful solution connsists of makinng up symmeetrical digits: Z ZZZ 111 com mbines the last letter off the alphabett with the firsst number, annd SSO 055 displays d a mirror-like aarrangement (SSO ( OSS).

Figure 3

N Names and surnames The mosst common way w of giving a personal toouch to one’s car is by writing one’s own name on the plate. This is veryy easy with th hree-letter A 783, DA AN 093, EVA 209, LIZ names, wheether full or abbbreviated: ANN 001, PAT 2119, JIM 019, KEN K 282, LEO O 148, PIO 5 87. One mustt add here that nowadaays in Malta most m Christiaan names are officially registered in English, butt Italian namees, which prev vailed up to thhe 1930s, are still very common annd now retainn about 20% of newborn registrations. Usually, personal nam mes are follow wed by numbers that show w the date of birth, b by a

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sequence of month and year as in the examples quoted above: 783, 282, 148 and 587 can be interpreted as July 1983, February 1982, January 1948 and May 1987. On the other hand 093, 209, 219 and 019 probably indicate the day and the month or vice-versa: March 9 or September 3, September 2 or 20, and so on. Some personal names can be displayed in full if one chooses zero, one or four as the first number. ALD 016, GIG 161, TON 126, LIN 019 and LEL 125 (Aldo, Gigi, Toni, Lino and Leli—a Maltese abbreviation for Emmanuel, like Italian Lele) show the names plus a twodigit number (which may have different connotations for the owner), but ALF 100, MAR 100, FAB 100, MAR 144, MAR 154, EMM 444 and SHE114 show the name in full: Alfio, Mario, Fabio, Maria, Marisa, Emma and Sheila. TOR 101 is a good example of the fad of calling oneself “number one,” in this case “(Vit)Torio 01,” like the above-mentioned LIZ 001, and this means that other persons who wish to display the same name will have to be content with number “2” or “3,” and so on, as the case may be. When it is not possible to write the whole name or its abbreviation, as shown above, some owners take the liberty of approximate spelling by dropping a letter which allows identification all the same: DAV 473, IVN 248, KYL 717, LKE 111 and JAX 576 for Dave, Ivan, Kyle, Luke and Jack’s. It is interesting to note that the most common male name in Malta, Joseph, can be written in many different ways, in Maltese or Italian and in their various abbreviated forms: in English JOE 394, JOS 360, JOZ 001, JOJ 012 (Jojo), in Maltese GUZ 123, JUZ 212, PEP 240, ZEP 164, and in Italian BEP 123, GIU 511 (Giusi). The three letter restriction makes owners turn to different graphic solutions by mixing elements of the Maltese, English and Italian alphabets as it suits them, like the English “J” for the palatal “G” and the Maltese “Z” for the voiced “S” in Joz, Guz and Juz. Some persons prefer to display their surname instead of the personal name and may manage to write it whole: CUR 715 (Curtis), PUL 158 (Pulis), CIN 106 (Cini), MEL 105 (Meli), ROS 507 (Rosso); others sacrifice a letter or two: GAT 946 (Gatt), XER 510 (Xerri), while a few choose the most distinctive consonants NST 111 (Anastasi).

Lexical terms Personal names are sometimes substituted by family nouns, indicating members of the family who remain anonymous, in English: DAD 325, MUM 593, MAM 111 (“Mummy,” spelt the Maltese way) and KID 203, or in Maltese: OMM 111 (ommi ‘my mother’), PAP 222 (Papà 222), or by pronouns: HIS 156, HER 118, OUR 111, MIA 199 (mia means ‘my’ in Italian and it is aptly on a Fiat). Some owners prefer matching the number

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Naming Your Car: Personalised Number Plates in Malta

plate to their car’s colour: RED 626, BLU 664, NER 097 (nero). One lady owner went as far as ordering a customised plate for her pink Fiat 500 and named it PINK JOY. A good number of residents of the smaller island, Gozo, show their origin by choosing the three letters “GOZ” followed by “0” and two other numbers, GOZ 003 (Gozo 03). Some owners display their profession: an optician chose EYE 555 (eyes), a philosopher opted for ETH 051 (ethos) and a number of doctors’ cars begin with the letters DOC. The plate BLE 555 (bless) may belong to a priest or a religious person, but it is not easy to guess the motive behind PLU 555 (plus, maybe a mathematician or an accountant). LEX 345 could be a lawyer’s or notary’s car (lex is the Latin word for ‘law’) but it could also be an abbreviated form of the personal name Alex. Common words feature, according to one’s hobby or favourite sport: a dog lover has a plate showing DOG 555 (dogs), another one has PAW 555 (paws), and a customised plate shows POINTER, obviously belonging to a hunter. Football has a large following in Malta and there are thousands of staunch supporters of English and Italian clubs. The most common combinations of three letters are UTD, for Manchester United (UTD 210 is obviously a red car), and JUV or UVE for Juventus of Turin (Juve): JUV 928 may refer to the 28th championship title won by the club, and UVE 249 is a classic car (a black Ford Popular of the 1950s) that proudly sports the club’s badge and the words “Juventus” and “Italia.” It has been tastefully decorated with a flourish of red, white and green, the colours of the Italian flag, showing that the owner, who has also added his first name at the back, Vincenzo, supports the Italian national team besides Juventus. Less glamorous clubs are represented too, such as LAZ 102 (Lazio 2 may mean that there is already a Lazio 1), TOR 030, a dark red car matching the players’ shirt colours, and QPR 003 (Queen’s Park Rangers). Homage is rendered to footballers as well: BAG 610 recalls Roberto Baggio, PIR 100 is for Andrea Pirlo and TOT 100 is for Roma’s Francesco Totti. On the other hand AGA 551 bears the name of former tennis star André Agassi. Hero worship is also accorded to singers: YOU 020 is dedicated to the Irish pop group U2, and Italian singers Pupo and Max Pezzali are recorded on plates PUP 057 and MAX 883, 883 being the name of the band of whom Max is the lead singer.

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Figure 4

In some cases a car owner matchess his number pplate with thee name of which means ‘refuge,’ his house: IRD 055 (Irrdoss, a Malltese word w D l-Irdoss ‘tthe sheltered house’) and ARI 054 ‘shelter’; hoouse name Dar (Ariosa, an Italian word meaning ‘airy y’). Commerccial cars displaying the ber plate are even more common: firm’s namee or initials on the numb University oof Malta vehiccles are markeed UOM 001 (and so on); the van of a brand of sshoes has ECC C 001 (Ecco 01), 0 Papillon Caterers has PAP 113, Multivend S Services Lim mited, which rents r vendingg machines, has h MVS 002. Other ccars display thhe maker’s naame or the moodel’s name orr number: POL 048 is a Volkswagenn Polo (“48” being, perhapps, the owner’s year of birth), SAX X 031 is a Cittroen Saxo, MIN M 105 is obbviously a Miini, UNO 010 is a Fiat Uno, BRN N 325 is a BM MW 325i whhose three lettters may me, Brian, or the surname Brincat, ZET T 444 is a represent the owner’s nam BMW sportts car taggedd “Z4,” and SEI 100 is an ingeniouss way of composing tthe name of thhe Fiat Seicen nto model. M Most vintage an nd classic cars, which are taken ouut only on occcasions like exhibitions or o rallies, owing the almost alwaays display a combination of letters andd numbers sho brand or moodel and the year of produ uction: MGA A 058 is a 195 58 MG A sports car, M MGT 046 is ann MG Tourer of 1946, JAG G 350 is a 193 35 Jaguar with bulginng mudguardss and huge headlamps, h TR RI 012 is a Triumph Herald 12000cc, TOP 0500 is a 1950 Fiat F Topolino , MMI 948 is i a 1948

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Morris Mini Minor (where the “I” and the “1” overlap), COR 057 is a 1957 Corvette, DOD 037 is on a 1937 Dodge seven seater limousine, and the plate of what may be the oldest car on show, a Ford Model A Sedan, is OOI 930. USA 023 is obviously an American car, a 1960s Oldsmobile saloon with an enormous flat bonnet and a large luggage boot, also flat.

Whims Certain owners adopt a playful attitude in choosing their combinations of three letters and three numbers. Even here, Malta’s traditional multilingualism is evident in the choice of English, Italian or Maltese names. BIG 222 is ironic on a Smart city-car. IOU 700 may tell the world that the car was bought thanks to a loan, VIP 512 may show a trait of megalomania, like the tongue-in-cheek SON 010 (Italian sono io means ‘it’s me’) and SOL 001 (Italian solo uno, meaning ‘one only,’ therefore ‘unique’), whereas SON 007 may be similar in asserting that one is secret agent 007 or just adventurous, but it can also mean ‘son’ in English or indicate the first name Sonny. WWW 682 seems to have been inspired by one’s love of Internet, FAM 051 may be a reference to the television series Fame known in Italy as “Saranno Famosi,” and OIO 101 could refer to a punk album by the group Cockney Rejects (Oi oi oi), but it can be read as a cry of pain or an exclamation of unpleasant surprise (in Italian ohi ohi ohi). BOO 111 may be teasingly disdainful and XIT 555 must have escaped the censor’s attention because in the Maltese alphabet X is pronounced “sh” and therefore the plate reproduces a rude word, but ZOO 206 may be a humorous reference or it could refer to a popular satiric programme on Maltese television. Also playful is the choice of OOP 511, the exclamation “oopsie” for “oops.” Customised plates have a much freer hand and can display the whole surname as in GENOVESE, the first name like TRACEY 1, the firm’s name MARCO (a motoring school) and MASCHIO (a men’s wear shop), just initials like JG, or a combination of a couple’s names EDWANNA (Edward or Edwin and Anna). Unlike what happened in Britain, car owners do not sell cherished number plates, they prefer transferring them to their new car when they sell the old one. Up to now a personalised number plate is considered a simple, perhaps also showy, whim, a harmless game consisting of devising words by the combination of three letters and three numbers to give the personal touch to one’s car. They are not considered a financial investment for the individual, but they have turned out to be a good source of extra revenue to the government.

ONOMASTIC MALTREATMENT AS A SYMPTOM OF DISCRIMINATION RICARD MORANT AND ARANTXA MARTÍN Introduction This chapter discusses how certain people can be victims of maltreatment when their names are misused, which often indicates the existence of prejudice against the group they belong to. The ultimate aim of this chapter is to draw attention to this type of onomastic maltreatment, which occurs through everyday discourse, and thus help prevent discrimination by ensuring all people are named in a dignified manner. In the following pages we will show how language warns us of these prejudices, which reflect and also consolidate discriminatory treatment. To this end, we will begin by delving into the importance of a name for the person who bears it, this being the first artificial element of identity, as well as a legal requirement that validates a person’s existence. Next, we analyse the onomastic maltreatment that can occur from the opposite perspective—by those who use it—and explain who the maltreated people are and the most common defence mechanisms they employ. Finally, we describe the main ways in which maltreatment occurs.

The importance of a name For those who bear it, a name has great significance, since it identifies them and differentiates them from others, while also playing a key role in their relationships with others. González (2004: 106-107) says it is “an inexpensive way of identifying people” and explains that when you know the name of the other party it is like “breaking the ice, increasing the degree of closeness […].” Indeed, it is so essential to have a name within a community that those who do not have one can come to question their very existence. In this respect, referring to Perea (2006: 18), there are cases of people who have

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found themselves in this situation, without identity documents as proof of existence, despite that fact they could be both seen and touched. Furthermore, as well as providing identification, one’s name also plays an important role in social control. Pou and Bosch (1998: 110) highlight this dual facet of a name which, on the one hand, acts as an “identity tag” and on the other answers “to the State’s desire for its subjects to be identified.” Indeed, the very laws which oblige people to be assigned names and surnames consider naming as a right and a duty at the same time.1 To a large extent, a name sums up one’s own identity at birth by providing information about belonging to a family and a society, religion and ideology, geographical and historical origin and, ultimately, the culture of which one forms a part, with its customs, traditions, fashions and influences relating to naming. In short, García (2005: 68) says a name: Identifies the citizens, placing them as among the members of a family and qualifying them in their dealings with third parties, be they private or with public authorities. If they could be separated, we could talk about two dimensions, i.e., of the first and last names that identify a person: the first is a personal-family subjective dimension, describing the subject and placing him/her as a member of a group of defined and recognisable people; the second, an objective or social-public dimension.

Van Langendonck (2007: 3) describes the importance of a name as follows: When the members of such classes are normally given names, for instance humans, a member that happens not to have a name, will be considered not to exist or become an outcast. By contrast, if a member of a class that does normally receive names becomes important all of a sudden, it might be given a name.

Martín (2009: 46) states that “A child’s name is the most important tag they will receive in their life,” and goes on to warn that according to the Institute for Naming Children Humanely, “Parents who choose names poorly create misleading labels for their children. These labels can cause 1

Under Spanish law, the Civil Registry Act 20/2011 expressly states that “Every person has the right to a name from birth.” However, it also states clearly that to have a name is compulsory, declaring that the civil registrar will “impose a commonly used name and a surname at birth on those whose parentage is unknown” and in cases where those obliged to do so have not done so within three days.

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their children to be mocked, stereotyped or ostracised. Mocked, stereotyped and ostracised children grow to become demented adults.” Indeed, one’s name is like a second skin, or as Beltrán (2011: 212) puts it, “like each person’s real travelling companion.” Thus, a name can, in principle, be considered as the parents’ first gift to their child, which can become a burden for life if the bearer does not like it or feels it encourages derision.

The maltreated That said, a name is one thing from the bearer’s viewpoint and another from the user’s, which is where onomastic maltreatment can occur. This is because names can be affective, neutral or demeaning when converted into “improper” names. Each culture nourishes stereotypes about other cultures and also about certain sub-groups within a culture, considered different and placed in an inferior position. Belonging to a particular culture or group can represent either a high or low status, and being pigeonholed, assigned to one group or another by the information provided by one’s name, implies appreciation or phobia, awakening admiration or contempt, trust or distrust, from the outset. Onomastic maltreatment is characterised by the mental representation of two opposing groups—us and them—with the negative labelling of the latter group. It is maltreatment stemming from discrimination that indicates, almost always, the existence of prejudice and, always, insensitivity to the effects of misusing someone’s name. Thus, this type of maltreatment can be considered a symptom of the marginalisation that certain groups or individuals are subjected to. Distorting a person’s name, pronouncing it wrongly,2 substituting it with a derogatory one and so on some of the many ways of making someone feel uncomfortable and affronting their dignity.

2

Mispronunciation does not always imply maltreatment. To qualify as maltreatment, there must be intent to ridicule, show contempt or to make the victim feel uncomfortable. Llamas (2004: 228) refers to the special care required with foreign names as: “[…] mispronounced, they may also have a different meaning in the original language, and that implies a more serious error. Nobody will get annoyed if asked to repeat his/her name or clarify it (this shows interest), but anyone would be upset (even though they may not show it) if we forget or mispronounce their name.”

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Therefore, the maltreated are often people who are considered as different due to their geographical or ethnic origin, their economic, social or cultural status, or their gender. Onomastic maltreatment of people from other ethnic or geographical origins could be part of what Van Dijk (2007a: 10) terms “racist discourse,” which reflects a kind of everyday racism towards people who have to “deal with this kind of racist discourse daily, not for what they do or say, but simply for who they are.” Van Dijk (2000: 34) explains that “new racism” underlies this type of discourse: […] wants to be democratic and respectable, and hence first off denies that it is racism. Real Racism, in this framework of thought, exists only among the Extreme Right. In the New Racism, minorities are not biologically inferior, but different.

The way people belonging to another ethnic group are looked at has, at times, forced them to change their original name. Accordingly, Warleta Fernández (1994) referred to the “alienation still caused by regular schools imposing Castillian-Spanish norms” in some Latin American countries in recent years. Likewise, reference is made to research conducted by Magendzo in Guatemala in 1984 or by the sociologists Castelnuovo and Creame in the Ecuadorian province of Tungurahua, in 1988, collected in their book entitled La desarticulación del mundo andino [Dismantling the Andean world] where they report that: […] Some schools forbid children to wear their typical and traditional clothes and change their names for more “normal” ones or just assign them numbers to facilitate roll call (http://www.rieoei.org).

Sometimes, onomastic maltreatment targets people of the same ethnicity or origin but belonging to a different economic, social or cultural class, reflecting the existence of prejudice, in this case classist or elitist. A precedent for this type of maltreatment can be considered that to which slaves have been subjected during different epochs. Restall (2000: 23) refers to the treatment of slaves as property, with a naming procedure based on allocating the owner’s name to the slave, which […] reflects a paradox inherent in the notion that people could be personal property, as the names humanised the slaves but, simultaneously, turned them into objects.

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The renaming of slaves was intended to erase the name that established a link with their origin by imposing a new one. Zeuske (2003) refers to this change of identity, which led slaves to “fight against forgetting their past, against the destruction of their personal and collective identity,” and recalls that the imposition of a specific name on a slave was a “stigma” with lasting effects, even when they recovered their freedom. Alfaro de Prado Sagrera (2008: 20), speaking of the abolition of slavery in Cuba in the late nineteenth century, notes that “there was significant discrimination” because “the new free citizens were registered only by a surname,” which tended to be that of their former master or made reference to the ranch where they had worked and clearly betrayed their original status as slaves. He explains: “Really, this form of onomastic discrimination lasted until the Cuban constitution of 1940, which repealed this single name system for the freedmen.” There is another type of onomastic maltreatment related to gender, targeting women.3 In this case, maltreatment is often sexist or macho prejudices in disguise, which may in its most benevolent form adopt a paternalistic tone. Such maltreatment directed at women is rooted in their being considered as holding a secondary role to men, and an example of this is that in many countries, upon marriage the woman takes her husband’s surname and loses her own (García Marcos 2005: 106-107).4 In Spain, married women retain their surname, although in some ambits they add “of” plus their husband’s surname, a custom that has fallen into disuse. Nevertheless, until recent legislative changes5 whereby one can choose in which order to place paternal/maternal surnames, the paternal surname always went first to ensure its permanency through successive generations. Peñarroya (1997) refers to another onomastic custom showing the subordination of women, that is, the use of diminutives to form some female names from male names: Adolf > Adolfina, Climent > Clementina, Leopold > Leopoldina, Enric > Enriqueta etc. 3

As Bajo (2008: 57-58) recalls, the attribution of a destructive nature to women led to hurricanes being baptised with women’s names. 4 González Suárez (2004: 71) explains that “while a male is identified from birth with a full name that he will not change during the course of his lifetime, a female, by contrast, is destined to her name either being lost or taking a secondary position.” 5 Act 40/1999 introduces a change in this respect in the Civil Code, whereby Article 109 reads as follows: “If affiliation is determined by both parents, the father and mother may jointly decide the order of transmission of their respective first surname before registration.” Act 20/2011 also explicitly states the freedom of choice in the order of surnames.

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This consideration of their being less important also explains the custom of addressing women by their first name or using diminutives in different contexts—even formal ones—which is less common when dealing with men (Suardiaz 2002: 169-170). Although this habit is now less common, the different ways of referring to men and women in similar positions is amazing. For example, it is customary to read news headlines referring to the Mayor of Valencia, Rita Barberá, by her first name Rita, without mentioning her surname, while it would be unthinkable to refer to the Mayor of Barcelona, Xavier Trias, as just Xavier. Onomastic maltreatment is found in all ambits (school, work, bureaucracy, the media etc.). Thus, it is hardly surprising that people attempt to find various defence strategies to deal with it, sometimes on an individual basis and sometimes at a collective or group level. Sometimes, it is the same individual who anticipates maltreatment and reacts, changing their name to avoid greater evils, exercising a kind of self-censorship, albeit with certain discomfort. This is the case of those from other cultures who prefer to seek an alternative, choosing a new name from amongst those common in the host country.6 And, of course, those who do so try to avoid discrimination due to the clear allusion their name makes to their origin. Therefore, it is at the prospect of being repeatedly side-lined that some people choose to give up an item so central to their identity, that is, their own name. During the youth riots on the outskirts of Paris, Goytisolo (2005) alluded to that fact that, taking into account the scarcity of stable and qualified jobs available, “to be called Ahmed, Mohammed or Fátima is a difficult hurdle to overcome,” and reflected the views of Bertrand Tavernier, who said that there was an unsustainable situation of workrelated racism and that “many of these kids are already calling themselves François instead of Mohamed and waiting to see if they get away with it.” Collective defence mechanisms against onomastic maltreatment have their origin in the social recognition of discriminatory treatment and usually consist of actions that aim to correct it. Although this is not always sufficient to eradicate marginalisation, it does represent a warning that such a problem exists and may, depending on the case, be very effective. In Spain, the law allows the change of name and surname in cases considered “contrary to human dignity” or “causing serious problems,” for instance, victims of domestic violence or their descendants. Furthermore, 6

According to Lu (2009: 9): “[…] few Chinese people living in Spain use their original name when in contact with the locals due to the difficulty that Spanish citizens have in their pronunciation and memorisation.”

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in response to requests from the Spanish State Federation of Gays, Lesbians and Transsexuals, in 2007 the Law on Gender Identity was passed, which allows transsexuals to change their name. In France, in order to avoid discrimination in the workplace, the “nameless curriculum” was adopted, which allows the omission of this information, an initiative that was also taken up in other countries. Another type of collective defence mechanism targets the media, where marginalised groups tend to be treated in a way that strengthens their discrimination. Van Dijk (2007b: 34) explains this by criticising both news and opinion articles as “a consistent model based on racial exclusion and polarisation between Our good things and Their bad things.” In this respect, Nash (2005: 145) notes that “how people are called is key to invoking their identity and popular perception” and that the media plays a crucial role in the discourse employed when speaking of immigrants. In this regard, she suggests developing style guides and good practice handbooks to avoid discriminatory treatment. In the same way, Israel Garzón (2003: 144) puts forward media style guidelines as a platform to prevent the “institutionalisation of negative attribution,” especially “onomastic noise,” and says particular care should be taken when naming individuals belonging to minority groups.

The manifold forms of onomastic maltreatment Onomastic maltreatment has many ways of inflicting punishment on those whose names are misused, reminding them they are members of an outcast group. The techniques are varied but, generally speaking, they are often accompanied by a sneering tone and always greatly damaging to the maltreated person’s self-esteem, even attempting to ignore and equate the victim to nothing on some occasions or, on others, considering the subject as less than nothing, which is even more hurtful. As we shall see, compared to the dignity bestowed by one’s proper name, as regards the named person, with the onomastically maltreated the process is reversed, disregarding the significance of identity, and as Perea (2006: 18) says, “if not having a name is distressing, worse still is to lose one.” The main mechanisms of onomastic maltreatment discussed here are generalisation, anonymity, renaming and name distortion. As opposed to the uniqueness bestowed by a name, generalisation plunges the victim of onomastic maltreatment into a collective, diluting their identity and stripping them of the attributes that define their individual existence. Van Dijk (2007a: 11-12) explains that part of the

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negative portrayal of “the others,” it does not only imply they are “less smart, handsome, quick, hard-working, democratic etc. than us,” but it also implies that “[…] all of Them are labelled identically as belonging to the same group (while Us, as individuals are all different from each other).” Conill (2002: 284), focusing on the considerations underlying this kind of treatment, says that “where the plural reigns over the singular, so too reign prejudice and ignorance,” stating: “You are no longer Martha, Joan, Fátima or Hamid, but a communist, a priest, a moro, a Jew, a policeman, a Catalan, someone from Madrid or from another village, a capitalist, a trade unionist.” Among the generic onymic labels, there is the use of derogatory adjectives that refer to appearance, such as those relating to ethnicity (nigger, gyppo, moro) or some physical feature (fat). Another common generic label takes the form of national names, in pejorative terms, which are attributed to people from the same country and used synonymously to indicate their origin. Interestingly, mistakes are often made regarding the country of origin or nationality of the victim of onomastic maltreatment. These mistakes, like the use of broad terms such as “foreigner,” show an ignorance of other cultures, throwing them all in together. In recent years, several names have been used to describe people from Latin America. They are terms not normally found in dictionaries (which explains the ambiguity and variety of their use), such as sudaca (South American), payopony or ponypayo (Latin American for someone of short stature) and guajiro, chiwi, guacamayo, guate or machupicchu. The last term is another example of ignorance and indifference characterising onomastic maltreatment since, although Machu Picchu is in Peru, it is used to denote not only Peruvians, but also Ecuadorian and Latin Americans in general. Kunz (2008: 101) refers to another type of generic label, constructed from a proper name that does not coincide with the victim’s name7 but is 7

Kunz (2008: 101) points out the existence of other names to designate people exercising a profession deemed inferior, recalling that in the mid-twentieth century, the French called Spanish maids conchitas and the Turkish called Soviet prostitutes natachas. Meanwhile, Amorós (2005: 105-106) highlights the “large number of generic names that connote stereotyping and indifference applied to women,” as compared to men, and cites examples such as las Mari-Pilis or las Marujas. Regarding this last term, he says that “it refers to a type existing socially with standardised traits, such as the average housewife.” Placencia (2008: 587) also criticises the use of such names like María, Manuel and José Manuel, used disparagingly to refer to people considered as socially inferior and revealing “an attack on the person’s image, given their implicit prejudice.”

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used as a synonym for a national name: “[…] In Spain mojamé or hassan can be any North African, Arab or Muslim, while Catalonia and Euskadi migrants and their children are referred to as yordis and iñakis.”8 In addition to generalisation, there are other techniques of onomastic maltreatment, like anonymity, which hides the person’s identity behind the coldness of a few letters or numbers. López (1991: 8) refers to reducing a name to a minimum expression, like using just the initials, employed by certain people who are members of a fringe group. Identification using a reference number also camouflages that which characterises someone the most—their own name. Galeano (1999: 59) refers to this when speaking of “nobodies,” “who have numbers rather than names.” The number lives alongside the name and may even replace it as the distinguishing feature on an identity document—something that is prevalent throughout one’s lifetime (in hospitals, the army, the classroom etc.), as Tierno points out (2008: 170). The use of numbers to designate a person has a dehumanising effect and usually occurs in situations where it is deliberately used to create distance. Throughout history, this resource has been used to refer to slaves and to those considered culturally inferior. It was also used in times of severe persecution, like that of the Jews in Nazi Germany who, on being arrested and taken to concentration camps, had a number tattooed on their arms for identification purposes, completely disregarding their name. Another tactic characteristic of onomastic maltreatment, in addition to generalisation and anonymity, is to maintain the uniqueness of a name but modify or replace it with another. Sometimes, it takes the original name and distorts it, resulting in onomastic mutations both in spoken language (through mispronunciation) and in writing (by misspelling it). In other instances, renaming or name distortion are employed. Administrative renaming causes a drastic mutilation of the person’s identity and thus, after the Spanish Civil War, Sol de la Libertad became Salvador and Libertad became Josefa. A variant of renaming is translation, which sometimes affects the people from the same country that use a different language. For example, in Spain for many years they translated names into the Castillian form, even surnames: Margarita Gautier was renamed Margarita Gutiérrez at the will of a civil governor, as Arasa (2008: 40) recalls. Perales (2011: 163) refers to this tactic, as well as some 8

There are other terms associated with names, such as panchito, referring to Mexicans (perhaps in memory of Pancho Villa or other Panchos), although, for the reasons mentioned, they may refer to anyone from Latin America.

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consequences of later normalisation during the new democracy, with “rifts between parents and their children on seeing that their child was no longer called Juan Fernando but Joan Ferran.” The imposition of a name was common in times of domination and war. Veres (2006: 40) explains how in Nazi Germany some people tried to hide their past behind a new name that would not betray their origin: Indeed, many Jews wanted to erase their ancestry and applied for Germanic names, many of which were coined by bigoted officials whose only ambition was to humiliate their bearers. These were the so-called galizische Ekelnamen “vile names from Galitzia,” which were given to ridicule a multitude of Polish citizens, names like Urin Kalfus—‘bald foot,’ Dintenfass—‘inkpot,’ or Streisand—‘drying sand.’

Even in peacetime, onomastic impositions may occur, as reflected by this news item released by the news agency Efe on July 12, 2011, criticising how in Colombia, during the election periods between the 1960s and 1990s, Indians were assigned demeaning names without their knowledge, thus making fun of them: Cohito, Marijuana and Gorilla are some of the names that Colombian officials gave thousands of indigenous people as a joke, when they processed their identity cards under pressure from local politicians to get their votes in exchange for false promises. (www.laprensa.com.bo/.../indigenas-son-blanco-de-burlas_584_1155...)

Other ways of distorting a name is to change its gender (Yolando instead of Yolanda) and to use certain affixes (the Russian named Ivan is changed to Ivanov, or Karen, a Cuban, is renamed Karensita, mimicking the typical pronunciation of her country). Otherwise, a name can be modified by changing the stressed syllable (an Ecuadorian named Angélica may be called Angelica instead), shortening the name (a Senegalese Muslim named Muhammad is called Moja by his workmates, even though it bothers him) or partially replacing it (Nehemiah is changed to Jeremiah).

Conclusion We have discussed here how a person’s name is a fundamental part of their identity and life within a society and how onomastic maltreatment reflects the existence of prejudice against certain groups. This chapter addresses how discriminatory manipulations of names specifically affect people considered “different” due to their geographical or ethnic origin,

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economic status or sex. We have seen some of the defence mechanisms employed to deal with this type of maltreatment, both on the individual and collective level. Furthermore, we have discussed the main forms that onomastic maltreatment takes: generalisation, anonymity, renaming and name distortion. The ultimate goal of this work, through the onomastic analysis of these phenomena menacing human dignity, is to call attention to the importance of a name and avoiding this type of subtle maltreatment, exercised daily through discourse.

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Kunz, M. 2008. Léxico e inmigración. In Manual sobre comunicación e Inmigración, A. M. Bañón and J. Fornieles (eds.), 95-109. Donostia: Tercera Prensa. Llamas, J. M. 2004. Estructura científica de la venta. México D. F.: Noriega Editores. López, A. 1991. El sueño hispano: ante la encrucijada del racismo contemporáneo. Mérida: Editora Regional de Extremadura. Lu, J. 2009. Estudio lingüístico sobre los nombres de persona en chino. Tesis Doctoral, Universidad de Granada. Martín, E. 2009. Nominología: cómo crear y proteger marcas poderosas a través del naming. Madrid: FC Editorial. Nash, M. 2005. Inmigrantes en nuestro espejo. Barcelona: Icaria editorial. Perea, E. 2006. El nom fa la cosa: onomàstica i literatura. Societat D’Onomàstica. Butlletí Interior 100: 11-38. Placencia, M. E. 2008. “Hola María”: racismo y discriminación en la interacción interétnica cotidiana en Quito. Discurso & Sociedad 2 (3): 573-608. Peñarroya, M. 1997. La discriminació cap a les dones a través dels noms propis. In Actes del IV Col·loqui d’Onomàstica Valenciana-XXI Col·loqui de la Societat d’Onomàstica, E. Casanova (ed.), 817-836. Paiporta: Denes. Pou, A., and E. Bosch. 1998. El nom propi i la llengua catalana. Revista de Llengua i Dret 29: 107-146 Redondo García, A. M. 2005. El derecho constitucional al nombre. Revista Jurídica de Castilla y León 7: 63-80. Restall, M. 2000. Otredad y ambigüedad: las percepciones que los españoles y los mayas tenían de los africanos en el Yucatán colonial. Signos Históricos 2 (4): 15-38. Suardiaz, D. E. 2002. El sexismo en la lengua española. Zaragoza: Pórtico. Tierno, B. 2008. Fortalezas humanas 4. Barcelona: Grijalbo. Van Dijk, T.A. 2000. New(s) Racism. In Ethnic minorities and the media, S. Cottle (ed.), 33-49. Buckingham UK: Open University Press. —. 2007a. Discurso racist. In Medios de comunicación y sociedad. J. J. Igartua and C. Múñiz (eds.), 9-16. Salamanca: Ediciones Universidad de Salamanca. —. 2007b. El racismo y la prensa en España. In Discurso periodístico y procesos migratorios, A. Bañón Hernández (ed.), 27-80. Donostia: Gakoa Liburuak. Van Langendonck, W. 2007. Theory and Typology of Proper Names. Berlin and New York: Mouton de Gruyter.

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Veres, L. 2006. La retórica del terror. Madrid: Ediciones de la Torre. Warleta Fernández, E. 1994. Pluralidad cultural y social de Iberoamérica. El papel de la educación bilingüe intercultural. Revista Iberoamericana 4. http://www.rieoei.org/oeivirt/rie04a05.htm (accessed June 7, 2012). Zeuske, M. 2003. Estructuras e identidad en la ‘segunda esclavitud’: el caso cubano: 1800-1940. Historia Crítica 24. http://historiacritica.uniandes.edu.co/view.php/373/view.php (accessed June 7, 2012).

CHARON’S SEMANTICS. NAMING WEATHER SYSTEMS: BETWEEN SCIENTIFIC TRADITION AND MEDIA LORE NICOLA REGGIANI

Caronte, ad esempio, che traghetta le anime all’inferno, mi sembra un nome azzeccato. Fa capire subito che fa molto caldo. —Margherita Hack1

Between April and August 2012, Italy faced an unprecedented condition of persistent anticyclones (high pressure systems) coming from Africa and producing fine but very hot weather all over the country. Mass media gradually started to make reference to them by using proper names, almost all taken from ancient history and classical mythology: Hannibal, Scipione (Scipio), Caronte (Charon), Minosse (Minos), Ulisse (Ulysses), Nerone (Nero), Caligola (Caligula) and Lucifero (Lucifer).2 This rich onomastic series generated a lively debate, almost exclusively on websites, forums and blogs, concerning the way of naming such atmospheric phenomena, nicknamed by a weather forecast website (IlMeteo.it) as a result of proper polls among its registered users. On the one hand, it seemed to be a tradition—having been customary for years—for European cyclones and anticyclones to be named only by the German Institute of Meteorology at the Free University of Berlin (vd. infra). On the other hand, it has been argued that such a right is neither 1

LaNazione.it (July 7: http://urly.it/1gtl): [It seems to me that Charon, for instance, who ferries men’s souls to hell, is a well-chosen name. It makes us immediately realise that the weather is so hot]. 2 The original Italian names are those in italics, followed by the English version (which anyway corresponds to the Latin form). Hannibal was originally named with the English spelling: see below for further notes.

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legally nor scientifically binding and that therefore “anyone” could give them a name. Such a “linguistic” controversy is utterly new in Italy and is linked to a field that is both scientific and “fashionable,” for its easy impact on the media (also due to the unusual weather conditions). Therefore, it is a suitable ground for a twofold analysis, concerning both the history of the naming of atmospheric phenomena, which can provide the proper framework, and the semantics of the names chosen in such a “popular” way, at which the debate was mostly pointed and which shows a very particular retrieval of the classical tradition.

Naming cyclones Tropical cyclones are named to provide ease of communication between forecasters and the general public regarding forecasts, watches, and warnings (Landsea 2010). [E]xperience shows that the use of short, distinctive given names in written as well as spoken communications is quicker and less subject to error than the older more cumbersome latitude-longitude identification methods. These advantages are especially important in exchanging detailed storm information between hundreds of widely scattered stations, coastal bases, and ships at sea (TCP).

In fact, the custom of naming particularly strong weather phenomena began in the United States during World War II, since US Army meteorologists needed a quick way to identify tropical cyclones (low pressure systems usually generating bad weather, storms, typhoons or hurricanes) and to communicate them to Air Force and Navy troops operating in the Pacific (the first public list was adopted in 1945). It seems that the first use of a proper name for a tropical cyclone dates back to the early twentieth century, when an Australian forecaster gave them names “after political figures whom he disliked” (Dunn and Miller 1960, quoted in Landsea 2010). The military forecasters took the practice of giving female names from the 1941 novel Storm by G. Stewart, in which a young meteorologist named storms after his former girlfriends. The usage was kept in the USA after the end of the war since: the quick identification of storms in warning messages […] makes it easier for the media to report on tropical cyclones, heightens interest in warnings and increases community preparedness (TCP).

While the first names were given arbitrarily, regular patterns were soon elaborated. Between 1950 and 1952 a phonetic alphabet (Able-Baker-

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Charlie etc.) was followed to identify North Atlantic cyclones, and in 1953 the US Weather Bureau decided to start using female names again. It is well known that feminist protests succeeded in including male names in the official list (since 1979). Nowadays, cyclones are named differently according to geographical areas, but follow common rules. For instance, for both Caribbean/ Mexican/North Atlantic and Eastern North Pacific hurricanes, there are six alphabetic lists used in rotation, and in each list there are 21 (A-W) or 24 (A-Z) entries alternating male and female names. When the annual list is exhausted, due to the occurrence of more hurricanes than expected, Greek alphabetic letter names are exploited (in 2005 they were used up to Zeta).3

Naming European weather In Europe, the practice of naming cyclones/anticyclones is quite recent. Since its main aims are easy communication and quick warning about potentially dangerous phenomena, for both civil and military purposes there was no real need to adopt it in a geographical area basically lacking in such conditions.4 However, following people’s natural tendency of knowing (and therefore controlling) things by naming them,5 even here, the tradition of giving proper names to “highs” and “lows” (as they are called according to the meteorological jargon) started. As we can read on the website of the Institüt für Meteorologie of the Freie Universität Berlin:

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A weather system naming history can be found in Lankford (2001: 7-15), Barnes (2007: 35-38), Schwartz (2007: 15), Landsea (2010) and TCP. For all the tables see the Tropical Cyclone Programme website (http://www.wmo.int/pages/prog/www/ tcp/Storm-naming.html). For the more complicated Japanese system for Western North Pacific and South China Sea typhoons see the Digital Typhoon website, within the section “Typhoon Names (Asian Names)” by A. Kitamoto (http://agora.ex.nii.ac.jp/digital-typhoon/help/tcnames.html.en). See also Padgett (2011) and the “Tropical Cyclone Names” section of the Atlantic Oceanograhic and Meteorological Laboratory-Hurricane Research Division website (http://www.aoml.noaa.gov/hrd/tcfaq/tcfaqB.html). 4 “Hurricanes are the only type of weather system with a formal naming convention. A name is applied when a tropical depression develops winds of at least tropical storm strength, 39 mph or greater. The World Meteorological Organization, an agency of the United Nations, maintains separate alphabetical lists for eight hurricane-prone areas of the world” (Schwartz 2007: 15). 5 For the main issues about naming things, see Astori (2012: 36-38) and also, from a philosophical viewpoint, Jeshion (2004, 2009).

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[i]n 1954 Karla Wege, who was a student at the Institute for Meteorology of the Free University (FU) Berlin and later weather moderator at the ZDF (Second German Television), suggested to name all vortices, both lows and highs in Central Europe. At that time the Institute of Meteorology of the FU Berlin was in charge of issuing comprehensive weather forecasts for the Berlin region. Since 1954 the Institute named lows with female names and highs with male names to track pressure systems in the weather charts more easily […] Until the 1990s this practise was used exclusively by Berlin’s newspapers, local radio stations and TV-media. Severe storms, such as “Vivien” and “Wiebke” changed this habit and since then the names have been commonly used by German [i.e., national] media. Somewhat earlier Americans shifted to naming tropical storms in an alternating way, i.e., giving male and female names, but only when the storms reached a threatening stage. Things being not quite the same here, FU meteorologists traditionally name all vortices, termed lows and highs, that influence the Central European weather. In 1998, a debate began as to whether it was discrimination to name the highs with “good weather” with male names and lows with “bad weather” with female names. The issue was resolved by giving the lows male names and the highs female names in odd years, and vice versa in even years. In November 2002, “Aktion Wetterpate (Adopt-a-Vortex)” was born. Now the public had the opportunity to […] adopt highs or lows. Since March 2002, we don’t use the names from our old lists. We make an alphabetical list of all the suggested names. To suggest a name (or to adopt a name), a fee has to be paid […] [W]ith this regular income we are able to maintain “the Students Observation Service” at the Weather Station 10381 (Berlin-Dahlem) […]. The names that are given (= adopted) are published in the “Berliner Wetterkarte” and are available for use by any weather services or media (newspapers, radio, TV, internet). This practice has been well established for over 50 years and maintaining it is requested not only by the German Weather Service or by the commercial service providers but also, by the public. Apart from the US-Weather Service, the Institute of Meteorology is the only source for named vortices worldwide.6

It was around the second week of April that such a practice began to be famous in Italy, due to the attention devoted by mass media to one of the atmospheric disturbances catalogued by the German institute as “lows” with female names (2012 is indeed an even year)—Lucia, named on April

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History of Naming Weather Systems: http://www.met.fu-berlin.de/adopt-avortex/historie/ (original German version, Geschichte der Namensvergabe, at: http://www.met.fu-berlin.de/wetterpate/historie/).

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12 after the proposal of one Lucia Schmidt.7

The Italian controversy Therefore, it was somewhat surprising that the following “high” (anticyclone), coming from Morocco (where it started on April 24) and officially known as Ignaz in Berlin,8 began to be called Hannibal by a popular Italian weather forecast website (IlMeteo.it). This fact immediately caused the polemical reply of a famous Italian forecaster, Colonel Mario Giuliacci, who wrote of a “random invention” (“Si chiama IGNAZ—e non Hannibal, nome inventato a casaccio da qualcuno,”9 quoted in Caridi 2012c), followed by other meteorological sites, which explained that the anticyclone […] si chiama “Ignaz” e non affatto “Hannibal,” frutto della libera e gratuita invenzione di altri siti di meteorologia a cui i mass-media generalisti danno fin troppo credito.10 (Caridi 2012d; cf. also Marchetti and Gervasi 2012)

But how and why was Ignaz renamed Hannibal? As regards the naming methods, it was not a random invention but the result of a proper poll announced by the website IlMeteo.it among its registered users, who were able to choose between two different names proposed by the site managers. As regards the name itself, though someone thought it was inspired by Hannibal Lecter—the cannibalistic serial killer of the famous film The Silence of the Lambs—probably due to the expected “violence” of the hot anticyclone (Caridi 2012b11), the reference was to the historical 7

For the Italian reception of the name Lucia see Caridi (2012a); for the meteorological description of this cyclone see Ilmer (2012). The full 2012 cyclone names list can be found at: http://www.met.fu-berlin.de/adopt-a-vortex/tief/#aktuell. For a general introduction to meteorology in Italian mass media (particularly television), see Riso (1999). 8 The name has been chosen by a commercial brand (see the 2012 anticyclone names list at: http://www.met.fu-berlin.de/adopt-a-vortex/hoch/#aktuell); for the description of Ignaz see Treinzen (2012). 9 [Its name is Ignaz—and not Hannibal, a name randomly invented by someone]. 10 [[…] its name is “Ignaz” and not “Hannibal” at all, fruit of the free and gratuitous invention of other meteorological websites, held in even too high esteem by generalist mass media]. 11 The cited article quotes another Italian meteorologist, Lt. Colonel Massimo Morico, who said: “questo nuovo anticiclone Africano [sic] è stato chiamato Hannibal, ma non preoccupatevi, non sarà come Hannibal Lecter, assassino seriale

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Carthaginian leader who fought against the Romans (Brizzi 1994). This is clearly shown by the name of the second hot anticyclone that arrived in Italy on June 16, called Scipione (Scipio) after the Roman winner of the Second Punic War, who was nicknamed Africanus (Scullard 1930). Just like Hannibal, Scipione too came from Africa (Cascioli 2012 Vitali 2012).12 The “invention” of Scipione (actually Stefan, according to the Berlin Institute) triggered (besides the joy of people keen on the ancient Roman army [see RomanArmyTalk 2012]) a further, deeper controversy, concerning not only the name itself but also the scientific value of such a practice. Caridi (2012e), for instance, after recalling the authority of the Berlin Institute, wrote: Ci chiediamo quindi che senso abbia continuare a chiamare le figure bariche in modo autonomo, senza alcun tipo di autorizzazione, completamente a piacere e per fantasia, senza rispettare invece i precisi regolamenti internazionali.13

The possible answers to this question might go very far from the original purposes of naming weather systems (Cascioli 2012 wrote about media strategies aiming at increasing people’s fears and economic

con l’ossessione di mangiare carne umana. Sarà un Hannibal buono che porterà sole e temperature superiori di 8/10°C rispetto alla media del periodo. Potevano chiamarlo Biancaneve […]” [This new African anticyclone was named Hannibal, but do not worry, it will not be like Hannibal Lecter, serial killer with the obsession of eating human flesh. It will be a good Hannibal, which will bring sunny weather and temperatures of 8/10°C above the average of the period. They could have named it Snow White […]]. 12 A further interesting issue is the reason why the first anticyclone was called Hannibal, i.e., with an English spelling, and not Annibale. It is very likely due to the well-known Italian fashion of giving things English names to let them bear an exotic charm: it is worth noting that the “official” name of the aforesaid cyclone Lucia was wrongly reported as Lucy by several media (Caridi 2012a; vd. infra). Since all the following phenomena were given an Italian name, it is conceivable that Hannibal could have been a sort of test of public opinion (I thank Dr. Margherita Centenari for having suggested such an interpretation). For the impact of anglicising Italian words (and of analogy) on the wider public, see the case of “outcipit,” wrongly coined as the opposite of “incipit,” studied by Astori (2008). 13 [We therefore wonder if it makes sense to go on naming baric systems autonomously, without any kind of authorisation, completely to someone’s liking and fantasy, not respecting any precise international regulations instead].

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business14). At the same time, the managers of the accused website claimed their freedom (if not their right15) to name weather phenomena, since the German practice appears to be a customary tradition and not a binding authority (“Saleo” 2012). But, keeping (pseudo-)legal and scientific matters apart, the debate has been focused mainly on the naming process, so much that a neologism has been coined by its detractors to express such a practice—“meteonomia” (the word does not exist in English; see the Etymological Appendix for further notes about it). As Colonel Giuliacci ironically wrote: È appena nata una nuova disciplina scientifica: la meteonomia […]. Gli esperti di questa materia, i Meteonomi, sono quotidianamente impegnati nella difficile ricerca di assegnare un nome agli anticicloni provenienti dall’Africa. È evidente a questo punto l’inutilità dei Meteorologi, i quali perdono il loro tempo invece a descrivere quale tempo porteranno questi anticicloni una volta giunti sull’Italia (Giuliacci 2012a; cf. Pascucci 2012, and more polemics against impressing 14

“[…] dare un nome a una perturbazione evoca subito una minaccia, un pericolo da cui ci si deve in qualche modo difendere, il che spinge l’opinione pubblica alla richiesta di maggiori informazioni che, a loro volta, tendono a essere sempre più estreme, sempre più catastrofiche […]. Da giorni […] si susseguono servizi tv sulla grande ondata di caldo in arrivo, e dargli un nome aiuta ad evocare scenari da emergenza planetaria: la scienza ridotta a strumento del circo mediatico. È un circolo vizioso che alimenta da una parte le ansie e le paure della popolazione e dall’altra gli affari di chi sull’ossessione meteo ci sta costruendo una fortuna” [Naming a disturbance immediately evokes a threat, a danger against which people have to defend themselves somehow, so that public opinion is urged to ask for more and more information which, in turn, tends to be more and more extreme and catastrophic. For days, TV reports about the forthcoming great heat wave follow one another, and giving it a name helps to evoke scenarios of planetary emergencies: science is reduced to a media circus. It is a vicious cycle that nourishes, on the one hand, people’s anxieties and fears and, on the other hand, the business of those who are getting rich thanks to meteorological obsessions]. See also Caridi (2012f). 15 See the title of a press note by AdnKronos’ portal ItalyGlobalNation on June 20: “ilMeteo.it ottiene il diritto consuetudinario di assegnare i nomi alle alte e basse pressioni per l’Italia” [ilMeteo.it got the customary right of naming highs and lows for Italy] (http://urly.it/1gu8). This is completely wrong; it seems that the site’s lawyers wrote to the Berlin Institute to ask for clarifications and they were answered that such a practice is customary, but since German meteorologists do not hold any right they cannot give it to anyone else. It was also wrong to say that IlMeteo.it has a “customary” right to name weather phenomena, since its practice started no more than two months before. This is a clear example of how the meteorological controversy spread together with evident imprecisions, as in BlitzQuotidiano (2012a), where it is said that the Berlin Institute allows European states to choose any names they want.

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naming in Marchetti and Gervasi 2012). Sono evidenti i vantaggi: conoscere il nome dell’anticiclone africano in arrivo sull’Italia conta molto di più degli effetti del medesimo sull’Italia […] (Giuliacci 2012b).16

Further on in the controversy The main point of the diatribe is the highly evocative power of the names chosen by IlMeteo.it, which retrieved historical (and later mythological) classical figures in contrast with the aseptic sobriety of the “scientific” tradition, relying on “common” proper male names, compared to which the former rise to the status of impressive—and impressing—nicknames (BlitzQuotidiano 2012b: “i nomi delle ondate di caldo [...] ispirano tutto tranne che simpatia”17). Such a status of undoubted and strong impact on mass media and public opinion clearly showed itself on the occasion of the third important high pressure vortex that came over Italy from Africa on June 29 (Volker, according to the Berlin Institute). This one was called Caronte (Charon), after the ferryman of the dead in Etrusco-Roman religion and in Dante Alighieri’s Commedia (Vagni 2005; see also Sullivan 1950). The “invention” of Caronte came with the utmost controversy: meteorologist Andrea Corigliano published a false poster announcing the death of meteorology (Caridi 2012g) and many other websites, both of weather forecast services and important newspapers, reported the debate (Caridi 2012h Corriere.it 2012 Cristofari 2012 “Milo” 2012 Ottaviano 2012 Scutiero 2012). There was also a direct reply by IlMeteo.it editor A. Sanò (Cortellari 2012). People began to pay attention to the cultural milieu from which the names were taken: Pieretti (2012) spoke of “i colossi della mitologia classica” [colossuses of classical mythology], and Vitali (2012) wrote about the “neoclassical trend” of Italian meteorology, briefly explaining the historical or mythological background of Scipio, Charon and Minos, the name (Minosse) chosen for the new heat wave of the 16

[A new scientific discipline has just been born: “meteonymy”. Experts on such a subject, “Meteonymists”, daily devote themselves to the difficult study of naming anticyclones from Africa. At this point, the uselessness of Meteorologists is salient, as they waste their time describing what kind of weather such anticyclones will bring in Italy. Advantages are evident: knowing the name of the forthcoming anticyclone matters much more than its effects on Italy]. See the reply on the IlMeteo.it forum (http://forum.ilmeteo.it/showthread.php?t=177061). 17 [Heat wave names inspire everything but liking].

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second week of July,18 which led to the now usual debate (e.g., Mercalli 2012 Pieretti 2012). In fact, the name Caronte seems inspired by Dante’s poem rather than by the classical antiquity (as A. Sanò himself said in Cortellari 201219; the image of fire is clear in Dante’s description of Charon’s eyes; see Vagni 2005: 579). Though in Greek mythology Minos was a king/judge of the Netherworld (Homer XI 568-571), it is in Dante’s Inferno that the hell (in which he acts as a judge, cf. Padoan 2005), full of fire, conveys the idea of terrible heat: “come il giudice dell’Inferno dantesco, [Minosse] deciderà da qui a giorni la nostra rovente ‘punizione’”20 (Pieretti 2012). This is the basis of the analogy on which the entire system of meteorological nicknames is built: they should recall, at least in the creators’ intentions,21 traditional sources of heat (Africa and hell): Prima di lui, Caronte occhi di bragia ci aveva traghettato negli inferi di un’estate bollente. L’antenato è Scipione, quello africano, che ci ha messo in ginocchio come fece con Annibale, ma a colpi di giornate torride.22 (Pieretti 2012)

And while some provocative proposals suggested to name forthcoming anticyclones after Greek-Roman gods related to fire and heat (Ephaistos: MeteoLive 2012; Vulcanus: Giuliacci 2012b), the trend was further confirmed by Ulisse (Ulysses), which seemed to be Dante’s character rolled up in a 18

The anticyclone recorded in the Berlin list after Volker is Wolfgang; it started on June 30. 19 “Il nome Caronte è legato alla figura del traghettatore dell’Ade presente nell’inferno dantesco. Caronte ‘dagli occhi di brace’ [sic], come il caldo che infiamma le nostre città in questi giorni, ma anche l’anticiclone che ci traghetta, appunto, nel cuore dell’estate” [The name Charon is linked to the character of the infernal ferryman in Dante’s Inferno. Burning-eyed Charon is like the burning heat we are having these days, as well as the anticyclone that ferries us in the heart of the summer]. 20 [Minos, the judge of the Dantean “Inferno,” will decide the red-hot punishment for us in a few days]. 21 An interesting misunderstanding is that in BlitzQuotidiano (2012b), where Minos’ dreadfulness is recalled through the image of the Minotaur, and not that of the infernal judge. In fact, there seems to be a difference between the Homeric Minos, the king/judge borrowed by Virgil’s Aeneid, and thence by Dante’s Inferno, on the one hand, and Minos the well-known king of Crete, on the other (at least according to Forsdyke 1952: 17). 22 [Before him, burning-eyed Charon ferried us in a burning summer’s underworld. Their ancestor was Scipio, the African one, who brought us to our knees as he did with Hannibal, but striking us with sweltering days].

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flame (Fubini 2005) rather than the Greek hero. “Più che un’Estate sembra la Divina Commedia” [Rather than summer, it looks like the Divine Comedy], as someone posted on Twitter at the time. Francalacci (2012) was more explicit, writing about the “temperature bollenti descritte nell’Inferno della Divina Commedia” [burning temperatures described in the Divine Comedy’s “Inferno”]. In fact, it is worth noting that in the poll related to this anticyclone (http://forum.ilmeteo.it/showthread.php?t=176834) a choice had to be made between Ulysses and Cerbero (“Cerberus”), and the winner was the latter (65.44% vs 43.56%). Many users claimed that “Cerberus” was more appropriate, since the infernal dog was as dreadful and untameable as the new heat wave would be, and Ulysses was seen as a “good” character, even though some people suggested a sort of continuity with Circe, a prior cyclonic vortex from Finland.23 Moreover, “Cerberus” would have been clearly linked to the same infernal environment as Charon’s and Minos,’24 but Ulysses was passed to the media despite the poll results. Was this for its commercial appeal or for the Dantean trend? A shift is registered in the following “high,” called Nerone after the Roman emperor Nero who was allegedly charged of having burnt Rome (Cizek 1982: 306-309). It is somewhat surprising that the next one was named Caligola (Caligula), a Roman emperor well-known for his madness and cruelty (similar to a tradition about Nero; cf. Cizek 1982: 16-19), but in no way connected with heat or fire (SMTV 2012, however, speaks of “filone neoclassico,” a ‘neoclassical trend’). The Dantean trend continued with Lucifero (Lucifer, cf. Ciotti 2005), the last heat wave of the summer (August 20-2425), and Beatrice, the following low pressure system (feminine, in compliance with the aforesaid rule26), which according to the symbolism of Dante’s character (Vallone 2005), “saved” Italy from the infernal heat from August 24 onwards (“L’infernale Lucifero verrà spazzato via dalla fresca Beatrice” [infernal 23 Circe occurred around July 24, and its relationship with the powerful magician of the Odyssey (also cited by Dante, cf. Martina 2005) is probably to be found in the fair strength of the expected storms (see the related forecast on IlMeteo.it, July 19, at: http://urly.it/1gtr). For the Berlin Institute, the name recorded was Rhiannon (July 17), after a certain Rhiannon Smith. 24 It is noteworthy that someone suggested using the English spelling “Cerberus,” because it “fa più effetto” [is more impressive]. See above for statements about Hannibal. 25 For the Berlin Institute, the name was Achim (August 16), after a certain HansJoachim Grunert. 26 For the Berlin Institute, the name was Aurelia (August 22), proposed by an anonymous contributor.

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Lucifer will be swept away by fresh Beatrice] is the title of a corresponding forecast on IlMeteo.it, available at: http://urly.it/1gtn).

Charon’s semantics The successful outcome of this series of nicknames is undoubted, even outside Italy.27 If one tries to search for Caronte on Twitter, the most popular social network, about 1,600 hashtags will occur for the week between July 5 and July 13. They partly recall Dante (speaking of “i mostri dell’inferno di Dante,” quoting Inf. V 4: “Stavvi Minòs orribilmente, e ringhia […],” asking “dopo Caronte e Minosse quale personaggio dantesco ci arroventerà?”) and partly classical mythology (“Eolo spazza via Caronte,” “ieri sembrava ci fosse Zeus,” “mitologia e storia antica per il caldo”28), but the mostly evoked imagery is that of the ferryman of the dead: “Caronte traghettatore dell’Ade di morti; dilla tutta, ti hanno chiamato per sterminarci con il caldo boia”; “Caronte il traghettatore delle ‘anime migranti’ nel Mediterraneo”; “altro che Caronte questo ci sta traghettando in un’altra dimensione […] quella africana”; “il prossimo anticiclone potete chiamarlo Schettino nel caso sia peggiore di Caronte” (joking about the name of the infamous captain responsible for the shipwreck at Isola del Giglio); “Caronte mi ha buttato in acqua mentre mi traghettava,”29 and so on. Moreover, according to BlitzQuotidiano (2012b), anticyclone Caronte is dreadful because it recalls Charon as “traghettatore dei morti” [ferryman of the dead] with no reference to heat; and even where the latter idea is expressed, the image of the ferryman, albeit metaphorical, is still salient: “sarà proprio Caronte che, come il traghettatore infernale dagli Occhi di Brace, ci porterà dritti al cuore dell’Estate” (NonBlog 2012), or from Twitter: “Caronte è scappato dall’inferno, le anime dovranno attraversare l’Acheronte a nuoto.”30 27

An American Twitter user posted: “Europeans much better at naming extreme weather events than US. Charon, Nero, Lucifer vs Stan, Edna, Fifi.” 28 [Monsters of Dante’s Inferno; After Charon and Minos, which Dantean character will make us red-hot?; Aeolus sweeps Charon away; it seemed that there was Zeus yesterday; Mythology and ancient history for the hot weather]. 29 [Charon, you ferryman of the dead, tell it all: they called you thus so that you’ll kill us off with this scorching heat; Charon the ferryman of the souls, migrant over the Mediterranean; Charon, no way, he is ferrying us to another planet […] the African one; You can give the next anticyclone the name “Schettino” in case it will be worse than Charon; Charon threw me in the water while he was ferrying me]. 30 [This will be like Charon; just as the infernal burning-eyed ferryman, it will take us to the heart of the summer; Charon ran away from hell, souls will have to swim across the Acheron].

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This is in line with the traditional Italian imagery about Charon, which usually carries, rather than the negative idea of hell’s heat, the neutral one of either “crossing” or “conveying.”31 Indeed, it is the name of a company that operates ferries across the Strait of Messina (http://www.carontetourist.it), and though the latter is the seat of the monsters Scylla and Charybdis, the reference to Charon must not convey the idea of “hell” as it is generally understood. The same remarks can be made about a company of land transport that chose Charon as its own brand name (http://www.caronte.eu). It is worth citing two 2012 police operations, both named Caronte and related to illegal sea transports, i.e., drug smuggling (Latina, May 3, 2012: http://www.latinatoday .it/cronaca/operazione-caronte-droga-transportata-formia-3-maggio-2012.html) and trade in human beings (La Spezia, July 11, 2012: http://www. gdf.it/gdf/it/rss/ultime_notizie/info1294929017.html). The old Etruscan demon appears also as the firm name of various funeral agencies32 (retrievable after a quick search on Google), and it is clear that in this case the analogy relies on the positive (or, anyway, not negative) idea of the journey to the afterlife. Nevertheless, after the outbreak of the “meteorological” fashion, we can find Charon associated with the negative image of hell (in Twitter posts): “Che Caronte sia tornato all’inferno?”; “con Caronte e Minosse abbiamo esaurito l’inferno”; “ho il sospetto che casa mia sia l’anticamera dell’inferno, Scipione Caronte e Minosse sono tutti riuniti in salotto”; “altro che Caronte […] il demonio ha scatenato l’inferno!”; “prima Scipione, poi Caronte, mo’ Minosse, ce manca solo il diavolo in persona,” “la prossima settimana voglio Ade in persona,”33 and so on. 31

An extreme example of such an imagery is provided by Marius (2012), administrator of a website devoted to “mysteries” (very à la mode), who after having quoted a passage from Wikipedia about Charon as the ferryman of the dead, cryptically writes: “Dopo questa lettura, si può affermare che sia solo un caso che gli è stato dato il nome di Caronte al caldo estivo di questi giorni? o in realtà sotto sotto c'è qualcosa di più? ricordiamo che gli illuminati si divertono ad usare nomi e date precise per certi avvenimenti che stanno per arrivare” [After such a reading, can we state that it is an accident that they gave the name Charon to the summer heat of these days? Or on the contrary, on a whispering tone, could we presume there is something more? Remember that the Illuminati enjoy using particular names and dates for certain forthcoming events]. 32 Caronte is also the name of a piece of software for this field (http://www.intersail.it/ scheda-prodotto/caronte), but also of a police operation (at Lucera in 2009) against frauds in cemeteries (http://www.funerali.org/?p=3742). 33 [Maybe Charon went back to the hell; With Charon and Minos, hell broke loose; I guess my home is the waiting room of hell: Scipio, Charon, and Minos are all together in my living room; Charon, no way! […] the devil caused hell!; First

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Our investigation has revealed how such a media campaign partially changed the Italian imagery about Charon from a prevailing analogy with “crossing” and “ferrying” (mostly by sea), to the negative idea of “hell” and “heat.” The entire practice of giving impressive/impressing names to weather systems altered the very purpose of such a tradition—media visibility (either of meteorological phenomena or of the name givers) rather than efficient communication and early warning. Nevertheless, the classical background of this new onomastic field is very interesting; the rediscovery of ancient Greek-Roman history and mythology, which are reinterpreted and filtered through the work of the “father” of the Italian language, Dante.34

Etymological Appendix: “Meteonomia” vs “Peteoronimìa” As said before, a neologism has been created to ironically refer to the new fashionable Italian practice of giving weather systems impressive, mostly classical names—“meteonomia.”35 It is an “erudite compound”36 in which the first part is taken from the typical beginning of words related to weather, just as in meteorologia “meteorology” or meteoropatia “meteoropathy.” The original first term, meteoro-, has simply been abbreviated according to a common practice (in Italian the word meteo usually identifies, in an abbreviated form that is similar to a “clipping process,”37 anything concerning

Scipio, then Charon, and now Minos: all we need now is the devil himself; For the next week I want Hades himself]. 34 This statement is valid for all the cases, including Lucifero and Beatrice. For the following phenomena, naming turned to pure Roman culture. Poppea, Nero’s wife, was used after Beatrice, and the following anticyclone was named Bacco, after Bacchus, the Roman god of wine (Petri 2012). For the reception of classical themes in Dante, see, e.g., Villa (1995). 35 The term is unattested before Col. Giuliacci’s web post (see above). English occurrences of “meteonymy” found online are just mistakes for “metronomy.” 36 ‘Erudite compounds’ (“composti dotti”) are those “creati combinando in modo originale unità lessicali e morfologiche proprie delle lingue classiche” [created by means of combining lexical and morphological units peculiar to classical languages in a new way] (Bombi 1993: 159). 37 A “clipping process” is the wrong division of a lexeme to create a new affixoid/suffixoid or a new word; see Bombi (1993: 165ff). On the formation of meteo in Italian see, e.g., Thornton (1996: 87), Fanfani (2001: 102) and Radimský (2007: 113-114). For current definitions of both meteoro- and meteo see Vocabolario Treccani (ibid.). It is worth noting the occurrence in common use of the wrong form meteopatia for meteoropatia (roughly more than 12,000 instances, easily

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weather forecasts). The suffixoid38 is related, in the creator’s intentions, to the practice of naming. Indeed it sounds like Italian nome “name,” making the word mean something like “weather naming.” But the terms ending in -nomia have a very different meaning; such a term, linked to the ancient Greek ȞȑȝȦ “to rule”: [è] impiegato … nella denominazione di alcune discipline con il valore di ‘studio dell’insieme di regole che governano un ambito, una struttura, un sistema’ (astronomia, economia, gastronomia)39 (Iacobini 2004: 93).

Vocabolario Treccani is more detailed in defining it: -nomìa [dal gr[eco] -ȞȠȝަĮ, der. di Ȟ‫ޢ‬ȝȦ ‘amministrare, reggere’]. – Secondo elemento di parole composte, derivate dal greco (come autonomia, astronomia, economia, ecc.) o formate modernamente (come agronomia, biblioteconomia, tassonomia o tassinomia, ecc.), nelle quali ha il sign[ificato] di ‘governo,’ ‘modo di amministrare,’ ‘modo di distribuire ordinatamente’ e sim.40

Such a compound is therefore a clearly wrong analogical re-composition,41 influenced by the speakers’ common use; if we look for an ending related to onomastics, we have to refer to –onimìa, which is in fact very similar to – nomia, but in its derivation from Greek ‫ݻ‬ȞȠȝĮ “name,” it is defined by Vocabolario Treccani as follows: -onimìa [der[ivato] di -onimo]. – Secondo elemento di parole composte che rappresentano il sost[antivo] femm[inile] astratto dei corrispondenti composti

traceable on performing a Google search). For the parallel case in French see Hug (1971: 99-100), Trescases (1976: 704-705) and Armitage (1990, 1029). 38 See Bombi (1993: 162-163) and Iacobini (2011). On the difficulty of defining such combining forms see Iacobini (2004: 70-71). 39 [It is used in the names of certain disciplines with the meaning of “study of the set of rules which control an ambit, a structure, or a system” (astronomy, economy, gastronomy)]. 40 [From Greek –ȞȠȝȓĮ, derived from ȞȑȝȦ ‘to rule, to govern.’ Second element of compounds, derived from Greek (like autonomy, astronomy, economy etc.), or a modern formation (like agronomy, biblioteconomy, taxonomy etc.), in which it bears the meaning of ‘government,’ ‘way of administrating,’ ‘way of distributing according to an order’ and similar ideas]. 41 “Re-composition” designates the extrapolation of combining terms and their reuse in a new compound (Bombi 1993: 161ff.).

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Charon’s Semantics in -onimo (per es[empio] anonimia).42 -ònimo [dal gr[eco] -ެȞȣȝȠȢ, der[ivato] di ‫ݻ‬ȞȠȝĮ, ‫ݻ‬ȞȣȝĮ ‘nome’].— Secondo elemento di parole composte, derivate dal greco (come anonimo, eteronimo, omonimo, pseudonimo), o formate modernamente ( ecc.), che significa ‘nome’, variamente determinato dal primo componente. Alcuni di questi composti hanno un corrispondente sost[antivo] femm[inile] astratto terminante in -onimìa […], di derivazione greca (come anonimia, eteronimia); in rari casi, -onimia è usato come suffissoide autonomo (per es[esempio], in odonimia).43

Therefore, a neologism referring to “names” would have been *meteoronimia,44 yet it would be not completely appropriate, since—as explained before—such an ending rather implies the idea of “defining a kind of name” or a “set of names” (like –onomastica), and sometimes of the “study of names” (i.e., particular applications of onomastics), as in the examples of odonimia (streets), antroponimia (people), zoonimia (animals) (see Vocabolario Treccani, ibid.). Anyway, Thornton (2004) seems to use antroponimia, toponima and econimia (“names of commercial brands”) with the meaning of “naming” as well. It is clear that it is not easy to find a single, exact term to identify the practice of naming weather systems. However, the most scientifically correct one, should anyone want to define such a concept, would be “*meteoronimìa”, that is, “*meteoronymy.”

42

[Der. from –onimo. Second element of compounds being the abstract feminine noun of the corresponding compounds ending in –onimo (for example anonymity)]. 43 [From Greek -ެȞȣȝȠȢ, der. from ‫ݻ‬ȞȠȝĮ, ‫ݻ‬ȞȣȝĮ ‘name.’ Second element of compounds, derived from Greek (like anonymous, heteronymous, homonymous, pseudonym) or a modern formation (hagionym, cryptonym, hydronym, toponym), meaning ‘name,’ variously determined based on the first component. Some of these compounds have a corresponding feminine abstract noun ending in –onimìa, derived from Greek (like anonymity, heteronymity); in rare cases, -onimìa is used as an autonomous suffix (for example, in hodonymy)]. 44 “Meteonimia” has three occurrences on the Internet, but two of them are Spanish mistakes for metonimia “metonymy”: http://www.xuletas.es/ficha/elchico; http://foros.monografias.com/archive/index.php/t-20574.html; http://tellspell.com/spanish/metonimia/57220 (the last one belongs to a list of common misspellings for “metonimia”).

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References45 Armitage, I. 1990. La Vie des mots. The French Review 63 (5): 1029-1030. Astori, D. 2008. Sulle antinomie di ‘incipit’… ovvero, del potere dell’analogia. La Torre di Babele 5 (2007-2008): 115-120. —. 2012. Avra(ha)m and Šara(i): Infertility Overcome by a Linguistic Redox. In Name and Naming: Synchronic and Diachronic perspectives, O. Felecan (ed.), 36-52. Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Barnes, J. 2007. Florida’s Hurricane History. Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press2 [1st edition 1998]. BlitzQuotidiano. 2012a. Caronte e Scipione? No, Stefan e Volker. June 30. http://urly.it/1gsh. —. 2012b. Dopo Scipione e Caronte arriva Minosse: grandine e nubifragi al nord. July 4. http://urly.it/1gsi. Bombi, R. 1993. Riflessioni sulla composizione con affissoidi. Incontri linguistici 16: 159-169. Brizzi, G. 1994. Annibale: come un’autobiografia. Milano: Rusconi. Caridi, P. 2012a. “Lucia,” “Madaleine” e non solo: storia e curiosità dei nomi di cicloni e anticicloni Europei. MeteoWeb, April 11. http://urly.it/1gsj. —. 2012b. Caldo anticiclone in arrivo, Morico su facebook: “altro che Hannibal, potevano chiamarlo Biancaneve…” MeteoWeb, April 24. http://urly.it/1gsk. —. 2012c. Caldo anticiclone in arrivo, Giuliacci: “si chiama Ignaz ed è già in Sicilia, Hannibal è un’invenzione.” MeteoWeb, April 25. http://urly.it/1gsl. —. 2012d. I nomi di cicloni e anticicloni e la bufala di “Hannibal”: istruzioni per l’uso. MeteoWeb, April 26. http://urly.it/1gsm. —. 2012e. Meteo, il caldo anticiclone è arrivato, ma non si chiama “Scipione”: è l’ennesimo delirio di un folle sistema mediatico. MeteoWeb, June 16. http://urly.it/1gsn. —. 2012f. Riccardo Cascioli dalle pagine del “Giornale” fa chiarezza sul fantomatico “Scipione”, l’ultimo “falso meteo-scoop” MeteoWeb, June 20. http://urly.it/1gso. —. 2012g. “E dopo Scipione arriva Caronte” così sta morendo la meteorologia. MeteoWeb, June 26. http://urly.it/1gsp. —. 2012h. Previsioni Meteo: altro che Scipione e Caronte, la prossima settimana arriva un caldo super al sud! MeteoWeb, July 2. 45 All the links were accessed on September 5, 2012. Very long URLs are reported in the abbreviated format provided by .

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NAMES AS COMMERCIAL VALUES: NAMES OF CELEBRITIES ANDREAS TEUTSCH Introduction “Celebrities are people that exert significant influence in several facets of society” (Okonkwo 2006), which means that celebrities stand in the light of public interest. The group of persons of public interest comprises, above all, artists such as actors/actresses, musicians, painters etc., as well as politicians, sportspersons, dignitaries and magnates. They have a more or less strong impact on society, and we usually refer to these outstanding persons as being “celebrities” (in a more general approach) or as being “stars” (in a more restricted manner, mostly limited to cinema and television). We might even feel to have a sort of connection with some celebrities, even if we do not know them personally or have never met them. This is because they fulfil an idol function in a public domain. Taking the particular position of celebrities into account, a compilation of names in public spaces would be incomplete if these persons of public interest would not be mentioned. As a rule, it is their name that is part of the public interest and not their very private personality, which—as a matter of fact—is hidden by the name. Therefore, in the following, I will focus my attention on the value of such names, since those persons of public interest give their name regularly for product commercials. Names of celebrities function as buying incentives, which means that they have a certain economic value. In turn, this value is based on a fragile social framework that requires the celebrity to be accessible to the average public and to give up a great deal of privacy, which can even create a medium for legal action. The present chapter will talk about the social impact of celebrities’ names and about their value in product marketing. The discussion will focus on the celebrity from the point of view of the public but also from that of the celebrities themselves, as a part of the public domain.

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Historic development of celebrity-bound marketing “Celebrity endorsement of luxury fashion is hardly a new phenomenon” (Okonkwo 2006). Okonkwo continues reporting on the case of the Princess von Metternich, a “close friend of Napoleon’s wife Empress Eugenie,” who was asked by Charles Worth, pioneer of the haute couture in Paris, to promote his fashion house. Although Okonkwo focuses on fashion brands, she generalises that “celebrities are extremely important and valuable to brands” (2006). Along with the advent of modern marketing, whose beginning coincides with that of package design at the beginning of the twentieth century, the use of celebrity names and idol figures has regularly been an appropriate means of attracting the public’s attention. The attractive design of packages was firstly limited to luxury goods and then extended to a large variety of mass produced goods, so that a well-designed package was eventually available to everyone and conveyed the image of wealth (Böcher 2001: 160 sqq.). Furthermore, Böcher (2001: 164) states that from its very beginning marketing used established personalities to create established trademarks. This situation has lasted or rather increased ever since: According to recent statistics, the number of celebrity advertisements has doubled in the past ten years. One in four adverts now features celebrities as opposed to one in eight in 1995 (Okonkwo 2006).

A reason for the importance of celebrities in publicity can be found in the idol function of the stars which, even diachronically, can be manifested as a stable value. Celebrities have always taken on a role model in society (Wemhöner 2006: 295). The new feature that was added to this value was the marketing of goods and services, which in its present form appeared at the beginning of the twentieth century.

Prestige names and their social impact In general, names are part of any language and thus are part of social life and interaction, and as such they underlie social evaluation (Debus 1995: 393). This is why, apart from the important historical and structural findings in onomastics, the focus on social aspects gains more and more significance in name research (Debus 1995: 394). Consequently, the role of names as social markers is apparent and, with this, their functioning in society becomes clear, as names depend on variations of social structures and social lore (Werlen 1996: 1738).

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Due to the positive connotation of the concept of “celebrity,” the combination of celebrities and names consequently evokes a relation to the social phenomenon “prestige.” In the following, I would like to focus on this social phenomenon from the viewpoint of onomastics (as done several times before, for example by Werlen 1996 or Strasser 1987). This focusing has an impact on the type of name discussed here, as there is an onomastic concept regarding celebrities’ names that snaps immediately into one’s mind when the term star or celebrity comes into play—the concept of “pseudonym.” Onomastics defines pseudonyms as names existing alongside civil names, chosen by people to hide their real name or to be more distinctive (Gläser 2009: 509). According to Nübling, Fahlbusch and Heuser (2012: 179), the distance between civil name and pseudonym can reach from minimal to maximal. In other words, the pseudonym can reach from making hardly any difference to the civil name to being a completely new name. As this chapter focuses on the economic function of celebrities’ names which, as a rule, are pseudonyms, other functions apart from their economic will be neglected. It does not matter who decided on the name or how it became worthy of being used commercially; the important factor for the present purposes is that a celebrity’s name can have a commercial value and thus be a part of public interest. In this respect, Werlen (1996: 1738) points out that pseudonyms and artificial names (such as product names) can carry more prestige, since they are not subject to any regulatory restriction, such as may be the case for family names or even given names. From a sociolinguistic perspective, the name as such is not deemed to carry prestige, which is rather related to the “social object” (Werlen 1996: 1740) that in terms of the present study stands for the celebrity. Why those prestigious celebrities, and respectively their names, have an impact on society will be discussed later. First, I would like to discuss the intensity of this impact on society and take up the viewpoint of society itself.

Names of celebrities in society The impact that a celebrity’s prestige name can have on the public does not always follow the same structure. Villarsen Meldgaard (1998: 57) proposes an open approach with an unfixed motivation for idol names, because apparently negative or positive characteristic of celebrities do not constitute good enough reasons for the public to take over their names. Thus, Villarsen Meldgaard (ibid.) proposes three motivation parameters for the intensity of the affection of the broad public, determined by names

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of idols or celebrities; according to her findings, these parameters can be summarised as follows:  direct adaptation and tendency to become fashion names (even though the celebrity represents a negative role);  modified/indirect adaptation;  no adaptation or use of the name by the public at all (even though the celebrity stands for a positive role). The impact of idol names and the use of celebrity names by the public remains, therefore, relatively illogical. From an onomastic point of view, this means that there is no clear or fixed primary reference between name and name carrier; rather the reference is influenced by unpredictable social factors like naming fashions, personal experiences, ideological reasons etc. As a result, society seems an unpredictable onomastic parameter. The factor “society,” however, becomes a predictable parameter in terms of economic value and product merchandising. In addition, here it makes sense to point out Werlen’s assumption that it is not the name itself that carries the prestige but rather the named “social object,” since “Namen stehen in sozialen Kontexten, die Prestige oder Stigma vermitteln können” [names stand in social contexts that can convey prestige or stigma] (Werlen 1996: 1740, my translation). In conclusion, we have the celebrity and we have the product as concrete social objects. In the following, we have to discover how the celebrity’s name affects the product. There is an obvious relation between idol names and their publicity value, which is at last being studied by media and communication sciences rather than by onomastics (Faulstich and Korte 1997).

What are celebrities? It has already been mentioned in the introductory part of this chapter that “celebrities are people that exert significant influence in several facets of society” (Okonkwo 2006). Now that the viewpoint of society (or rather the public) has been discussed, I will focus on the celebrity itself and question why this type of personality has an impact on the average public.

The economic perspective Studies on “stars” are increasing especially in culture and media sciences (Wemhöner 2006: 295). Moreover, Wemhöner (ibid.) points out three core criteria to define a star, namely Erfolg ‘success,’ Image ‘image’

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and Kontinuität ‘continuity.’ These criteria are defined from different perspectives—the most basic decisive factor to be labelled with “star” is, of course, “success,” since the way to being a star is paved with achievements above average. Thus, success emerges directly from the star. At the same time, the image is the picture that the outer world has of the celebrity (Wemhöner, ibid., with further references). The image is a phenomenon that combines outer cognitive and emotive perceptions regarding the celebrity (and is, therefore, generated by the public). Continuity refers both to the success and the image of a celebrity. The term “continuity” has to be understood as a diachronic setting of success and image; it also stands—so to speak—above the two perspectives (i.e., success and image). A hierarchic structuring of the three aforementioned celebrity constituting criteria already shows a relation to brands. First and foremost, there is success. The success of a brand as well as of a star can originate in different reasons. Nevertheless, these origins of success show parallels, such as, for example, in intensive marketing actions, quality and exhaustive distribution or rather media presence. But it does not matter why a star or a brand are successful; what matters is, in any case, that success is essential in order to be outstanding. The next feature of the celebrity constituting criteria is image, i.e., the perspective of the public at large. Here, too, there are parallels to the brand image, which focuses on the perception of the outstanding brand by the consumers, no matter whether the outstanding picture is heading for a negative or positive image—of course, the positive image ought to be sought in the first place (Herbst and Scheier 2004: 21), a dictum that obviously applies both to celebrities and to brands. As regards the third criterion, continuity, there are parallels between stars and brands. The economic value of brands depends on brand recognition, and for stars, the economic risk has a direct and permanent repercussion on earning a living. In most cases, however, a brand can be replaced by a better engineered or more consumer-adapted one, whereas the replacement or abandoning of celebrities can cause their economic and/or psychological breakdown. This means that while continuity is worth being pursued in relation to a brand, it is particularly vital for a star. The economic value is thus an objective for brands and a must for celebrities. In order to bring the economic perspective to a round figure, it has to be mentioned that there is a thoroughly obvious economic reason for using celebrities in marketing. In this respect Vassallo and Hiney (2009: 42) state that:

602

Names as Commercial Values: Names of Celebrities [e]ach marketer competes for customer attention in a marketplace where Advertising Age [an American marketing and media journal] has determined that the top 100 advertisers alone spend over $100 billion on advertising each year. By using a celebrity’s identity, a marketer may make an impression upon consumers more readily and at lower cost.

The social perspective Wemhöner (2006: 294) starts her article about the mythological viewpoint of the star phenomenon with a comparison of celebrities in ancient and modern times, stating: Während die Leitfiguren der antiken Gesellschaft Namen wie Odysseus, Herakles und Apoll trugen […] heißen die Heroen unserer Tage James Dean, Greta Garbo, Madonna oder Boris Becker […] [Whereas the models to follow of ancient society carried names like Odysseus, Heracles and Apollo, the name of heroes of our days are James Dean, Greta Garbo, Madonna or Boris Becker] (my translation).

Although Wemhöner insinuates a difference between ancient and modern heroes due to their actions, differences should not be made according to the so-called “star theory,” emerging from a combination of the economically oriented sociology of Max Weber and the historically oriented sociology of Johan Goudsblom (Mährlein 2004: 17). In addition, Mährlein (2004: 18) sees that traditional forms of authority are complemented and even partially replaced by charismatic (uncommon) authorities. This change occurs out of a need for entertainment, which increases with the same intensity as political and economic security within society. Last but not least, the development of mass media allows for the technical and economic conversion of this need into new forms of star perception (Mährlein 2004: 19). From a synchronic point of view, it can be concluded that celebrities are modern heroes in our society, with a certain authoritarian power, and they function as idols. Due to modern mass media, they are easily accessible and distributable. In the terminology of public spaces, it can be stated that stars fulfil the role of charismatic authorities in society and with this build their own social class in public life—a star-class. From a semantic point of view, stars become symbols, and it is this symbolism that sells.

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Celebrities and product marketing This could be a reason why even the names of heroes with a negative connotation have an economic value—they belong to the class of heroes/ idols and are accessible via mass media. The accessibility of a member of the social class of celebrities to the average public makes the public feel akin. Products and services promoted by celebrities consequently represent a direct link between the world of marketing and the world of celebrities. This is why celebrities are very much suitable for publicity purposes. Due to their relation to media and public awareness, celebrities can therefore be studied from the perspective of communication science; stars are a media product and they possess a high marketing potential. In recent times, the specific commercialisation of the product “star” has even developed its own branch in marketing (Henkel and Huber 2005: 2). Concerning brands as such, marketing experts Gardener and Levy (1995: 35) already stated in the 1950s that: the net result [of a brand] is a public image, a character or personality that may be more important for the over-all status (and sales) of the brand than many technical facts about the product.

But what is a brand? According to Kreuzbauer (2002: 12), “a brand has symbolic qualities and is used to express the consumers’ role expectations or self-image.” This means that the least common denominator of the abstract notion of a “brand” and of the abstract notion of a “celebrity” is their symbolic quality. In semiotic terms, this finding leads to the conclusion that a celebrity stands for (stat pro) a product. Kreuzbauer (2002: 13) furthermore defines celebrities as persons with particular characteristics, which he relates inter alia to the fact that celebrities are known to the public due to the fact that they use public media and commercials. This fact points to a mutual dependency—a celebrity needs public attention to be defined as a celebrity; if a star subsequently represents products, the public awareness increases. The higher the public awareness of a celebrity, the more the stars’ value for the marketing industry increases. The intention of a star to go up the aforementioned value-spiral in the public space can be one motivation to choose a pseudonym, together with its sound symbolism and phonetic needs to create a brand name (Teutsch 2012). The motivation for the choice of a pseudonym lies in the matching of its structure with expectations and tendencies of the average public and the commercial market (the last mentioned parties are highly interactive).

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However, why is it that the average consumer wants to buy or possess a good that is marketed by a celebrity or has more confidence in a service that is promoted by a star? In this respect, Horton and Wohl (1956: 215) have established the term “para-social interaction.” Given that mass media is a public place, the celebrity becomes accessible for the public through mass media. Here lies the key for the value of stars as promoters; through the purchase of a product that has been promoted by a star, everybody can be like the celebrity. The product seems to be a part of the celebrity and the celebrity becomes accessible through the product. There is interaction between the average consumer and the star in public space, but not on a face-to-face basis; the interaction however becomes concrete through the product (which is the same one as “my idol” uses).

Personal rights vs Vocial object So far, I have talked about the celebrity as a social object and thus as a part of public space. It must not be forgotten that behind this concept of social object stands a human being (most often). With respect to terminology, it has to be stated that the scientific term “social object” is far removed from the real human being behind it. Although this sociological term serves its purpose in the scientific community, in real life the terminological conflict between a confined community and the public at large becomes true relative to celebrities defending the abuse of their idol name. This is where celebrities step back from the spotlight and look after their own private needs.

Legal perspective Therefore, celebrities (who are persons of public interest) sometimes find their names in situations beyond their control. This situation stands in complete contrast to the publicity value of the name of a star. The breach in interests gives way to legal action, as legal questions always arise of diverse evaluations and conflicting interests. This weighing of interests is a characteristic of legal order (Forstmoser and Vogt 2008: 11). Such diverging interests generate different perspectives that demand individual (case bound) legal answers. Law itself can provide assistance for two aspects in the commercial domain concerning legal issues and celebrities (for more about the limitation of these two aspects see q.v. para. 5.2.). The first aspect is about the legal protection of a celebrity’s name in order to defend it against third

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parties and the second one is about the use of the celebrity name without consent, which could be seen as an act of infringement of personal rights.

The name as a trademark The first viewpoint on this subject concerns procedures of legally protecting the celebrities’ own name (as a rule, the pseudonym). With this, celebrities gain the exclusive right to use the name in commercial situations, which is the case when celebrities promote goods and services, i.e., the name becomes a trademark. From a legal point of view many celebrities’ names are suitable to be used as trademarks. This does not apply to all possible names and terms that a celebrity might choose. Some terms may not fulfil the basic function of a trademark, as they are being understood as descriptive characteristics of the labelled goods and services, yet some terms—above all personal names—clearly fulfil this function, as there is no common content between the term and the product (Teutsch 2007: 133). Such a use of a celebrity’s name consequently does not pose any problems, even more so as the star as a rule is involved in the sales. For example, the singer Madonna did not succeed in registering her pseudonym in Switzerland, because the name would potentially hurt the feelings of some religious minorities. The appeal court did not deny that Madonna had a certain reputation in the field of entertainment; however, the court placed the interest of the Italian speaking Catholics in Switzerland, who may feel offended by seeing a reference to the Mother of God used in trade, above those of the entertainer (Federal Administrative Court of Switzerland, Judgment of 12/04/2010—B 2419/2008—“Madonna”: http://www.bvger. ch/publiws/?lang=de).

The personal right of the celebrity More complicated is the use of a celebrity’s name for commercial purposes without the star’s consent. This refers to the second viewpoint, the celebrity’s personal right. According to Davies (2004: 231), “the increasing use of trade mark registration by those keen to safeguard their personal name against unwanted use or attention” shows the link between intellectual property protection and personal rights, since a possibility of personal rights protection is through trademark protection. The protection of personal rights goes far beyond the name of a person or a celebrity. This is the reason why I do not want to expand on this legal issue here—especially when it comes to terms out of the commercial value

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of names—as it would breach the scope of this chapter. Protection of celebrities goes as far as to include, e.g., the picture or the voice of a celebrity; the singer Bette Midler, for example, filed a claim for a violation of her right of publicity against the Ford Motor Company using her voice in a commercial spot (Vassallo and Hiney 2009: 44). Nevertheless, it has to be stated that “‘insignificant’ or ‘incidental’ use of a person’s identity will not violate a right of publicity” (ibid.).

No strict legal rule The individual emphases of the aforementioned depend very much on the type of celebrity. Celebrities such as the Disney figures of Nemo or Phineas and Ferb have a different interest of legal protection than Jamie Oliver or Oprah Winfrey. In addition, someone like Angela Merkel or Mikhail Gorbachev has a different interest of personal protection than Madonna or Mika Häkkinen. As a matter of fact, as with all the cases where the public at large has to respect individual interest, the situations just mentioned are individual cases and have to be decided on in particular (Forstmoser and Vogt 2008: 11). This is why the setting of two main fields of questions, namely the use of the name in the commercial area and personal protection, can only mark two milestones on the very edges of the vast area of legal regulation on celebrity names in public spaces.

Conclusion Heroes have always had an idol function in society. Celebrities can thus be understood as modern heroes, who took over a promotional function when marketing developed at the beginning of the twentieth century and who have ended up in an enduring relation with brand publicity. From a social point of view, celebrities delineate their own social class. Through commercials, they are accessible to the average public. Since celebrities belong to a particular social class, their reputation does not have to be positive, as the mere determining factor is their affiliation to the “star-class.” Products (i.e., goods and services) promoted by celebrities constitute a key for the average public to access the star-class. The use of the same products as a celebrity creates a concrete link between public and celebrities. The problem that arises for the latter is related to the legal basis, since celebrities seesaw between their need for privacy and the

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public’s interest in them. On the one hand, celebrities need to promote their name; on the other, there is need to protect it because it is part of their private personality. Thus, celebrities are persons of public interest, who suffer significantly due to the interaction of privacy and public needs. As a conclusion it can be stated that celebrities are persons in public space that draw economic value from their name, but lose a great deal of their privacy. They stand out from society and have their own dimension of public space.

References Böcher, H.-G. 2001. Von “Leibniz” bis “Du darfst!”: Die Marke als „Devise“. In Die Marke—Symbolkraft eines Zeichensystems, M. Bruhn (ed.). Bern: Verlag Paul Haupt. Davies, G. 2004. Celebrity and Trade Marks: the next instalment. SCRIPTed A Journal of Law, Technology & Society 1: 230-240. Debus, F. 1995. Soziolinguistik der Eigennamen. Name und Gesellschaft (Sozio-Onomastik). In An International Handbook of Onomastics. YROEichler et al. (eds.),  Berlin: Walter de Gruyter. Faulstich, W., and H. Korte. 1997. Der Star. München: Verlag Wilhelm Fink. Forstmoser, P., and H.-U. Vogt. 2008. Einführung in das Recht. Bern: Stämpfli Verlag. Gardener B., and S. Levy. 1955. The Product and the Brand. Harvard Business Review 33: 33-39. Gläser, R. 2009. Familiennamen und Pseudonyme. In Familiennamen im Deutschen, Yol. 1 Hengst and Krüger (eds.), 503-526. Leipziger Universitätsverlag. Henkel, S., and F. Huber. 2005. Marke Mensch. Prominente als Marke in der Medieninstustrie. Gabler Edition Wissenschaft. Wiesbaden: Deutscher Universitäts-Verlag. Herbst, D., and C. Scheier. 2004. Corporate Imagery. Frankfurt: Cornelsen Verlag. Horton, D., and R. R. Wohl. 1956. Mass Communication and Parasocial Interaction. Observation on Intimacy at a Distance. Psychiatry 19: 215229. Kreuzbauer, R. 2002. Design and Brand. Gabler Edition Wissenschaft. Wiesbaden: Deutscher Universtäts-Verlag. Mährlein, J. 2004. Der Sportler als Marke. Düsseldorf: VDM Verlag Dr. Müller.

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Nübling, D., F. Fahlbusch and R. Heuser. 2012. Namen. Eine Einführung in die Onomastik. Tübingen: Narr Verlag. Okonkwo, U. 2006. Luxury Brands & Celebrities: An Enduring Branding Romance. brandchannel—Always Branding. Always On. http://www.brandchannel.com (accessed July 2012). Strasser, H. 1987. Prestige—Stigma. In Sociolinguistic—An International Handbook of Language and Society YROAmmon et al. (eds.), 140- 144. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter. Teutsch, A. 2007. Linguistische Aspekte der rechtlich basierten Markeneignung. Berlin: Lit-Verlag. —. 2012. Speakability of Trademarks. In Names as Language and Capital, Boerrigter and Nijboer (eds.). Meertens Institut: Amsterdam (forthcoming). Vassallo, E. E., and J. Hiney. 2009. Private Lives and Publicity Rights. World Trademark Review October/November : 42-45. Villarsen Meldgaard, E. 1998. Hvorfor Annika og ikke Pippi? Studia Anthroponymica Scandinavica 16: 49-59. Wemhöner, K. 2006. Das Starphänomen aus mythologischer Sicht. In Mythos No. 2—Politische Mythen, P. Tepe (ed.), 294-315. Würzburg: Verlag Königshausen & Neumann. Werlen, I. 1996. Namenprestige, Nameneinschätzung. In An International Handbook of Onomastics, YRO  Eichler et al. (eds.),  Berlin: Walter de Gruyter.

INDEX AUCTORUM ET OPERUM

Abel, E.L., 227-228, 231 Ainiala, T., 534-535, 544 Akselberg, G., 534, 544 Alfaro de Prado Sagrera, A., 569, 575 Algeo, J., 225, 229, 231 Alinei, M., vii, xvi, 328-329, 331, 333-339 Amza, M.R., 521, 530 André, J.-C., 315, 322, 324, 326, 454 Andreica, A., 532, 544 Arcamone, M.G., 10, 273-275 Astori, D., ix, xvi, 506-507, 509, 511, 513, 515, 517, 519, 580, 583, 593 Bakhtin, M., 424, 432 Balaguer, V., 87, 89-92, 94, 97-100 Ballard, M., 345, 351, 443, 445-446, 451, 453 Bechar-Israeli, H., 507, 509, 518, 524-525, 530 Bergien, A., vi, xvi, 106-109, 111117, 119 Bessis, M., 148, 159 Bessis, P, 148, 159 Biela-WoáoĔciej, A., 429, 432 Blommaert, J., 207, 210-211, 221 Boerrigter, R., 108, 117, 274, 608 Bourdieu, P., 325-326 Bremer, D., 10, 273-275 Brincat, J.M., ix, xvi, 557, 559, 561, 563 Brylla, E., 117, 119, 544-546 Bugheúiu, A., ix, xvi, 242, 255, 506507, 509, 517-518, 520-521, 523, 525, 527, 529

Cacia, D., viii, xvi, 458-459, 461, 463, 465, 467, 469 Caffarelli, E., 257, 272-274 Caridi, P., 582-585, 593 Carnap, R., 50, 56, 63 Casanova, E., 544, 575-576 Charaudeau, P., 472, 474, 481-482 Chelaru-Murăruú, O., 474, 476, 482 Chierchia, G., 57, 63 CieĞlikowa, A., 485, 487, 489, 490491, 502 Cocchiarella, N.B., 56, 63 Cohen, D.N., ix, xvi, 548-549, 551, 553, 555 Coúeriu, E., 471, 473, 483, 523, 530 Cotticelli Kurras, P., vii, xvi, 257, 259, 261-263, 265, 267, 269, 271, 273-276, 369 Coulmas, F., 210, 221 Czopek-Kopciuch, B., vi, xvi, 120121, 123, 125, 127, 129 D’Angelo, M., 50, 56, 62, 64 Dahl, R., 425, 427-428, 432 Dahmen, W., viii, xvi, 404, 406-407, 409, 411 Davis, W.A., 50-51, 53, 64 de Camilli, D., 10, 273-275 De Stefani, E., 258, 274 Debus, F., 359-360, 367, 598, 607 Delorme, J., vii, xvi, 277, 279, 281, 283, 285, 287, 289, 291 Dorion, H., 99-100 Dynel, M., 45-46 Edelman, L., 162, 168, 171 Eliade, M., 435-442 Esch, F.-R., 356, 368-369, 392, 394, 403

610

Index auctorum et operum

Evans, C.K., 225, 227-229, 232-233 Fahlbusch, F., 360, 369, 599, 608 Falkner, W., 113, 117 Felecan, D., ix, xvi, 341, 346, 352, 420, 470, 474, 481, 483, 520521, 523-525, 527, 529, 532, 544 Felecan, N., vi, xvi, 186-187, 189, 191, 193, 195, 197, 199, 201, 203, 205 Felecan, O., vi, xv-xvi, 186-187, 189, 191, 193, 195, 197, 199, 201, 203, 205, 208, 255, 343, 352, 433, 483-484, 518, 532, 544, 593 Fischer, F., 256, 258, 274 Fischer, O., 116-117 Fornalczyk, A., viii, xvi, 424-425, 427, 429, 431-433 Frege, G., 50-51, 64, 444, 446, 453 Gabriel, K., 259, 275, 359, 368, 393, 403 Galisson, R., 315, 322, 324, 326, 454 Gaákowski, A., 121, 130 Garsiel, M., 30, 47 Gary-Prieur, M.-N., 315, 326, 345, 445, 454, 474, 483 Geigenmüller, A., 393-394, 403 Gläser, R., 599, 607 Glodeanu, G., viii, xvi, 435, 437, 439, 441-442 Gold, D.L., 21, 26, 328, 330, 335, 339 Goryaev, S., vi, xvi, 131, 133, 135, 137, 139, 141, 143, 145, 147 GuĠu Romalo, V., 438, 534, 540, 544 HaCohen-Kerner, Y., ix, xvi, 548549, 551, 553, 555-556 Hammond, P., 45, 47 Harvalík, M., 534, 544 Hausmann, F., 45, 47

Hedquist, R., 534, 545 Heuser, R., 360, 369, 599, 608 Hughes, P., 45, 47 Iglesias Ovejero, A., 532, 545 Iveson, K., 162, 166, 171 Jeshion, R., 514, 517, 519, 580, 594 Jiang, Y., v, xvii, 68-69, 71, 73, 75, 77, 79, 81, 83 Jonasson, K., 474, 483 Kajanto, I., 45, 47 Kaleta, Z., 130, 485, 490, 501-502 Khouw, V.C.Y., 293, 313 Kleiber, G., 454, 474, 476, 483 Koopman, A., 40, 48, 158 Koß, G., 107, 118, 359-360, 368, Konzett, C., 256, 369 Köster, R., 182, 184 Kramer, J., viii, xvii, 404, 406-407, 409, 411 Kremer, L., 107-108, 118-119, 273, 275 Kress, G., 166, 171 Kripke, S., 50-52, 54-59, 63-64, 454 Krook, S., 107-108, 118 Kryukova, I., v, xvii, 2-3, 5-7, 9-10, 131-132, 146 Kühn, I., 408-409, 412 Kuhn, J., 256, 274, 369 Lakoff, G., 115, 118 Lakaw, A., 507, 518-519, 525, 529530 Landsea, C., 579-580, 595 Langner, T., 356-357, 368, 392-393, 403 Latour, S., 107, 118, 391, 393-394, 399, 401, 403 Laurent, B., 148, 159 Lavric, E., 256, 369 Lee CL, vii, xvii, 293, 295,  299, 301, 303, 305, 307,  311, 313 Lévi-Strauss, C., 325-326

Onomastics in Contemporary Public Space Longobardi, G., 61, 64 Lötscher, A., 258, 275, 391-393, 404 Lungu-Badea, G., viii, xvii, 351, 443-447, 449, 451, 453-455 Lyons, J., 474, 483 Manu Magda, M., viii, xvii, 470471, 473, 475, 477, 479-481, 483 Martín, A., ix, xvii, 565, 567, 569, 571, 573, 575, 577 Martin, M., vii, xvii, 314-315, 317, 319, 321, 323, 325, 327 Matthews, V.J., 44-45, 48 McConnell-Ginet, S., 57, 63 Miège, B., 472, 484 Mihali, A., vi, xvii, 207, 209, 211, 213, 215, 217, 219, 221 Mill, J.S., 54, 454 Moeschler, J., 51, 64 Morant, R., ix, xvii, 565, 567, 569, 571, 573, 575, 577 Munteanu Siserman, M., vii, xvii, 340-341, 343, 345, 347, 349, 351-353 NAMES: A Journal of Onomastics, 224-226, 228-236 Nänny, M., 116-117 Napoli, E., 50, 56, 62-64 Neethling, B., vii, xvii, 158, 227, 235, 240-241, 243, 245, 247, 249, 251, 253, 255-256 Nicolaisen, W.F.H., 100, 360, 369, 544 Nilsen, A.P., 428, 433 Nilsen, D.L.F., 428, 433 Nissan, E., v, vii, ix, xvii, 11, 13, 15, 17, 19, 21, 23, 25-27, 28-29, 31, 33, 35, 37, 39, 41, 43, 45, 47-49, 197, 328-329, 331, 333-339, 548-549, 551, 553, 555-556 Nübling, D., 360, 369, 599, 608 Nuessel, F., vii, xvii, 224-229, 231, 233, 235

611

Oesterreicher, W., 396-397, 404 Okonkwo, U., 597-598, 600, 608 Olshvang, O., vi, xvii, 131, 133, 135, 137, 139, 141, 143, 145, 147 Oltean, ù., v, xvii, 50-51, 53, 55, 57, 59, 61, 63-65 Onions, C.T., 150-155, 160 Pamp, B., 532, 545 Papa, E., 463, 469 Picard, M., 227, 235 Platen, C., 259, 275, 359-361, 369, 391, 394, 404 Platter, 240-241, 243, 256 Porcelli, B., 10, 273-275 Portavella, J., 89, 93, 97, 100 Portner, P.H., 50, 57-59, 64 Pratchett, T., 430-432 Przybytek, R., 121, 130 Raper, P.E., 158, 227-228, 236 Rateau, M.A., vi, xvii, 148-149, 151, 153, 155, 157, 159-160 Reaney, P.H., 506, 519 Reboul, A., 51, 64 Redfern, W.D., 45, 48 Reggiani, N., ix, xvii, 578-579, 581, 583, 585, 587, 589, 591, 593, 595 Rezeanu, A., 442 Rézeau, P., 173, 182-184, 290-291 Richardson, G., 375, 387 Rieger, M.A., vii, xvii, 354-355, 357-359, 361, 363, 365, 367, 369 Riley, P., 110, 118 Ritchie, G., 14, 25, 27, 45, 48-49, 548, 556 Robinson, C.L., 228, 236 Rohlfs, G., 465, 469 Roibu, M., ix, xvii, 532-533, 535, 537, 539, 541, 543, 545 Ronneberger-Sibold, E., 119, 259, 262, 267-268, 273-276, 360, 369

612

Index auctorum et operum

Rossebastiano, A., 463, 469 Rus, G., viii, xvii, 413, 415, 417, 419, 421 Rymut, K., 121, 130 Rzetelska-Feleszko, E., 121-123, 126, 129-130, 488, 502-503 Scheidt, L.A., 522, 525, 529-530 Searle, J.R., 50, 53-54, 64-65 Siwiec, A., 121-122, 126, 129-130 Sjöblom, P., vi, xviii, 107-108, 118, 161, 163-167, 169, 171 Sklyarenko, A., 534-535, 545 Sklyarenko, O., 534-535, 545 Slama-Cazacu, T., 471, 484, 520, 522-523, 530 Soames, S., 51-52, 54, 58-61, 65 Sperber, D., 34, 49 Spillner, B., 431, 433 Spolsky, B., 210-211, 220-221 Stegu, M., 274, 369 StoichiĠoiu Ichim, $ix, xviii, 532-533, 535, 537-539, 541, 543, 545 Suprun, V., 131-133, 146-147 Sutton, L.A., viii, xviii, 374-375, 377, 379, 381, 383, 385, 387 ĝwierczyĔska, M., 486-487, 493494, 501, 503 Tanabe, K., v, xviii, 68-69, 71, 73, 75, 77, 79, 81, 83-84 Teutsch, A., ix, xviii, 597, 599, 601, 603, 605, 607-608 Thornton, A.M., 267, 276, 511, 513, 519, 590, 592, 596 Tomescu, D., 444, 451, 454, 474, 483, 484, 532, 534, 545 Tort-Donada, J., v, xviii, 85, 87, 89, 91, 93, 95, 97, 99, 101

Trudgill, P., 210, 221 ğepeneag, D., 450-451, 448, 456 Ungureanu, E., 506, 519 Van Dijk, T.A., 568, 571, 576 Van Langendonck, W., 8, 10, 132, 146, 148, 158, 160, 187, 206, 428, 433, 524, 529-530, 534535, 545, 566, 576 van Leeuwen, T., 166, 171 Van Wyk, J., 158-159, 242, 245, 256 Vaxelaire, J.-L., 187, 206 Villarsen Meldgaard, E., 599, 608 Voltaire, 445, 447-448, 456 Wahl, S., 259, 262, 273-274, 276, 369, 399, 404 Wahlberg, M., 117, 119, 544-546 Wallace, P., 507, 519, 525 Watin-Augouart, J., 315, 319, 327 Wemhöner, K., 598, 600-602, 608 Werlen, I., 598-600, 608 Wilson, D., 34, 49 Wirth-Jaillard, A., vi, xviii, 172-175, 177, 179, 181, 183-184 Wochele, H., 256, 274, 369 Zafiu, R., 470, 477, 483-484, 532, 546 ZawodziĔska-Bukowiec, K., viii, xviii, 485, 487, 489, 491, 493, 495, 497, 499, 501, 503 Zilg, A., viii, xviii, 259, 273, 276, 359-360, 370, 391, 393, 395, 397, 399, 401, 403-404 Zuckermann, G., ix, xviii, 548-551, 553, 555-556

INDEX NOMINUM ET RERUM

abbreviation, 4, 19, 52, 124-127, 129, 143, 152, 397, 418, 420, 474, 492, 510-516, 560-562 acronym(s), acronymy, 110-111, 121-122, 126-129, 262, 270271, 357, 477, 490, 492, 496, 500, 511, 555 advertising (name(s), function, text, slogan), advertisement, v, xi-xii, 2-10, 125, 131-132, 134, 136, 146, 153, 155-156, 161-165, 167-171, 183, 219, 258, 261, 272, 316, 374, 376, 391, 393394, 396, 399, 402, 598, 602 alterity, vii, 207-210, 212, 214, 216, 218, 220-221. See other(ness) ambiguity, ambiguous, 5, 63, 108, 210, 234, 257, 261, 342, 465, 473, 507, 515, 534, 542, 572, 576 anonymity, anonymous, 327, 392, 416, 506-507, 516, 518-519, 521, 530, 561, 571, 573, 575, 592 anthroponym(s), anthroponymy, anthroponymic, ix, xii, xiv, 6, 8, 28, 131, 133, 135, 137-138, 140-146, 226-227, 230, 287, 318, 321, 341-343, 348, 351, 413, 416-418, 420, 432, 439, 443-444, 451, 473-476, 479484, 485-487, 490-497, 499500, 518, 520, 522, 524, 526, 528, 530, 536, 544, 608. See personal name(s) antonomasia, vii, 314, 316-320, 322-324, 326, 342-343, 478 antonym(s), antonymy, 16, 26, 208

apocope, 270-271, 320-321, 362363, 468 appellative(s), 8, 60, 62-63, 122, 125-129, 132-139, 141-144, 147, 345-347, 369, 393, 396, 398-399, 407, 409-411,420-421, 451, 479, 483, 489-492, 494496, 498, 513, 532-535, 538539, 542 appellativisation, 4, 8 apt (name(s)), v, xi, 18, 28, 30, 32, 34-38, 40, 42, 44, 46, 48, 247 asemantic, 123, 129, 496, 500 assortment name(s), 391-392, 401402 autonymy, 537, 540, 545 blend(s), blending, 110, 122-124, 126-129, 267-268, 271-272, 275-276, 282-283, 286-287, 535, 538 borrowed, vi, 126, 131, 133-134, 136, 138, 142, 144-146, 150, 154-155, 216, 284-285, 336, 338, 343, 349-351, 418, 448, 489 borrowing, 135-136, 140, 145-146, 278, 336-337, 447, 489, 549, 556. See loan(s)/loanword(s) brand(s), brand name(s)/name(s) of brand(s), vii-viii, xiii, 6-7, 10, 21, 70, 76-78, 108-109, 113, 117-118, 120, 132-133, 138, 140, 142, 159, 162-163, 165, 169-170, 172, 175-183, 221, 226, 229-230, 232, 239, 242, 247-248, 251, 253, 255, 257263, 265-267, 269, 272-276, 314-326, 354-372, 374-387,

614

Index nominum et rerum

391-394, 396-402, 412, 491, 513, 563, 582, 589, 592, 598, 601, 603, 607-608 branding, 108, 255, 261, 276, 356, 368, 380, 392-394, 403, 550 byname(s), viii, xiv, 417-418, 420, 428, 433, 444, 457 car name(s), names of cars, 21, 165, 513, 515. See number plates cat-breed name(s), names of catbreeds, ix, xv, 532-546 character name(s)/names of characters, viii, xiv, 140, 142143, 227, 231, 235, 351, 424, 426-432, 434, 439, 443, 445446, 461, 465-467, 487, 493, 513-514, 524, 528, 551. See charactonym(s), 427 clipping(s), 111, 144, 268, 270-272, 590 code name(s), cover name(s), viii, xiii, 405, 406-412, 413-422, 524 commercial name(s), vi-vii, 106, 116, 131-132, 149, 152, 154, 157, 161-170, 172, 174, 176, 178, 180, 182, 184, 255, 257258, 260, 262, 264-266, 268, 270, 272-276, 321, 323-324, 362. See trade name(s) common name(s)/noun(s), 11, 50, 56, 63-64, 81, 123-124, 146, 149, 172-173, 175, 178-180, 182-183, 197-198, 289, 315, 317, 319, 323-324, 343, 446, 448-449, 452, 478, 480, 482, 491, 527, 533-535, 538-540, 542, 545, 554, 562. See appellative(s) company name(s), names of companies, vi, 43, 78, 106-116, 118-119, 120-130, 131-140, 142-146, 148, 162-165, 167171, 172, 174-175, 178, 182, 272, 321, 324, 343, 357-358,

362, 369, 391-392, 398, 401, 589 compound(s), compounding, 11, 24, 38, 40, 42-44, 121-123, 126128, 173,175, 267-269, 271272, 330, 362, 401, 462, 474, 478, 515, 538, 543, 550, 590594 connotation(s), connotative, xiii, 6, 8, 10, 108, 113-114, 136, 139140, 149, 176, 247, 255, 260, 262-264, 414, 426-427, 429, 431, 444-445, 474, 477, 479, 517-518, 528, 541, 543, 561, 599, 603 denotation(s), denotative, 4, 50-51, 57-58, 60, 63, 137, 262, 517518, 537, 541 deonym(s), vi, 172-174, 176, 178180, 182-184, 348 derivation(s), derivational, derivative(s), 45, 47, 114, 121, 266-268, 270, 320, 322-324, 348, 401, 474, 476-478, 490492, 500, 539-540, 542-543, 551, 591-592 description(s), descriptional/ nondescriptional, descriptive/ non-descriptive, 50-54, 56-64, 109, 111, 115, 122,124-127, 129, 236, 259, 269, 359, 392, 393, 396, 428, 446, 454, 476, 483, 489, 494, 506, 514, 516, 518-519, 535, 541, 594, 605 designation, designator, 107, 110, 124, 127-128, 148, 192-193, 195, 201, 216, 225, 277, 289290, 349, 351, 409, 418-419, 444, 473, 475-476, 489, 495, 500, 526. See rigid/non-rigid designator, 54-56, 58, 63, 475 diachronic, x, xv, 68-69, 86, 147, 200, 255, 275, 413, 433, 484, 593, 598, 601

Onomastics in Contemporary Public Space diminutive(s), 45, 139, 337, 362364, 401, 409, 477, 482, 495, 506, 569-570 discourse, discursive, 119, 420, 447, 471-472, 475, 483, 497, 524 dish name(s), vii, 277-292, 307, 309-311, 330, 341, 371-372, 516 e-mail nickname, mail name, ix, 506-518 econym, 359 epithet, 236, 462, 465-467 eponym, eponymous, 18, 343-344, 349 ergonym(s), ergonymy, 2, 6, 120, 131-132, 135, 137-138, 140, 142, 144-146, 443-445, 448451, 453 ethnolinguistic(s), 118, 147, 343 ethnonym(s), ethnonymic, 227, 236, 345, 526, 533, 535, 537-543 etiquette (word), vi, 130, 133-135, 141, 145-146 etymology, etymological, etymon, 5, 11-14, 48, 136, 138, 141-142, 145, 152, 160, 173-174, 177180, 182, 184, 278, 280, 286, 291, 336, 339, 344, 348, 364, 368, 419-421, 438, 446, 533, 536-537, 542, 556, 584, 590 extralinguistic, xiv, 63, 75, 217, 393, 445, 489, 534, 542-543 family name(s), 16-17, 22, 35, 3743, 121-123, 125, 129, 133-134, 139-144, 233, 235, 252, 254, 272, 287, 357, 361-362, 409411, 418, 476-477, 527, 599. See last name(s) and surname(s) female name(s), 139, 232, 409, 463, 526, 569, 579-581 fictional name(s), 227-228, 342, 414, 467, 493. See fictonym(s), 485, 493-494

615

first name(s), viii, 40-42, 122-123, 125, 129, 135-137, 139, 142, 154, 187, 231, 235, 254, 287, 341-342, 344, 357, 361, 398, 408-411, 414, 417-421, 439, 468, 470, 472-482, 484, 485, 487, 495, 498, 526-527, 562, 564, 566, 570. See forename(s) forename(s), 227, 234, 444, 451, 475, 480-481, 510-512, 523, 526, 528 gastronomy, gastronomic, 110, 157, 338, 340-352, 367-368, 370, 397, 591. See gastronym(s) (GAN), vii, xiii, 340-351 generic, xv, 110, 112-113, 149-150, 152-153, 156-157, 180, 191, 213, 219, 221, 267, 315, 318319, 321-323, 325-326, 341, 345-346, 351, 360, 378, 443445, 461, 533-534, 538-540, 572. See genericisation, 377 globalisation, vii, x, 9, 68-69, 71, 76, 109, 113, 193, 207, 210-211, 219-220, 328, 335, 349, 394, 537 grammatical(ly), 116, 132, 134, 138, 145, 149, 266-270, 315, 345, 452, 474, 476, 539-540 graphic, 134, 145, 217, 219, 270, 324, 342, 349, 363, 374, 444445, 450, 488, 491-495, 501, 517, 522, 525-526, 551, 559, 561 hemeronym(s), 2, 7, 131 heortonym(s), festival name(s), 132 homonym(s), homonymy, homonymous, 200, 202, 342, 515-516, 528, 536, 540, 543, 592 homophony, 56, 323, 400, 446 humour, 13, 30, 45, 48, 263, 426427, 429, 431, 548, 556

616

Index nominum et rerum

hybrid (name(s)), hybridity, 219, 264, 267-268, 270, 272-273, 275, 309-310, 313, 533, 549 hydronym(s), 347, 592 hyperonym(s), 319, 321 hypocoristic(s), 287, 342, 418, 420, 431, 460, 468, 477, 481, 510511, 513, 515, 519, 524, 526528, 596 hyponym(s), 321, 448 icon(s), iconic, iconicity, 117, 258, 367, 498, 523 identification, 54-55, 60, 92, 125, 127, 216, 233, 261, 267, 317, 341-342, 348, 392, 397, 414, 421, 443, 445, 470, 473-475, 481, 483, 485, 524, 527, 542, 561, 566, 573, 579 identity, vi, 51-52, 54-55, 57, 59, 64, 100, 106-111, 114, 116-119, 170, 203, 207-216, 218-221, 232-235, 293-294, 325, 339, 394, 406, 413-418, 420-421, 474, 507, 514, 517-518, 524530, 537, 539, 545, 565-566, 569-571, 573-575, 602, 606 idol (name(s)), 597-600, 602-604, 606 intension(s)/extension(s), 50, 53, 57, 59 internationalism, 122-123, 168, 267 irony, ironic, 33-35, 45-46, 49, 428, 445, 477, 479, 482, 564 label, viii, xiii, 10, 51-52, 57, 115, 241, 243, 245-246, 248-253, 256, 358, 374, 376-378, 380, 382-383, 385-386, 392, 426, 430, 448, 488, 536, 541, 566567, 572, 601, 605 last name(s), 43, 143, 409-410, 487, 492, 566 lemma(s), 278, 280, 284, 286-288, 545

lexeme(s), vii, 117, 133-135, 146, 172-174, 176-183, 266, 277278, 280, 284, 286, 289-290, 322, 340, 361-363, 397-398, 463, 491, 590 lexical, vii, 6, 26, 108, 111, 116, 121, 149, 184, 214, 218, 260, 275, 284, 287, 289-290, 314, 316- 318, 320, 322, 324-326, 336, 341, 399, 402, 426, 429, 431, 445, 448, 470, 473-474, 476, 495, 497-498, 523, 527, 533, 535, 538, 540-541, 543, 549, 556, 561, 590, 595 lexicalisation, lexicalise, 42-43, 110, 176, 278, 317-318, 320, 326, 444-445, 447 linguistic landscape, xi, 67-72, 74, 77, 82-84, 162, 168, 171 linguoculture, 3, 8 literary (proper) name(s), literary onomastics, viii, xiv, 226-227, 230, 426, 432, 443-444, 446, 448-450, 452, 454, 456 loan(s)/loanword(s), 321-322, 325, 346, 537-538, 543, 549, 564 logo/logotype, 108, 118, 120, 127, 165, 167, 171, 182, 242-243, 245, 247, 258, 315, 356, 358, 366-367, 376, 382, 393 male name(s), 139, 232, 361, 365, 463, 477, 481, 524, 526, 528, 561, 569, 580-581, 585 maltreatment (onomastic ~), ix, xv, 565-576 meaning(s), viii, xiv, 4-6, 8-10, 4445, 47, 50-51, 54, 56-60, 63-64, 78, 81, 94, 108, 110-111, 113, 115-118, 122-125, 134, 138, 140-145, 150, 152-154, 157, 162, 166, 173, 176, 179, 181182, 193, 198, 211, 214, 216, 219-220, 225-226, 251, 258, 261-262, 268, 271, 300, 302303, 308, 316, 318-319, 321-

Onomastics in Contemporary Public Space 325, 348, 350, 356, 361-364, 377, 384, 397, 408, 415, 417, 426-430, 435-436, 438, 440, 442, 443-446, 448, 452-453, 458-460, 462-464, 470, 472474, 479, 494, 498-501, 506, 513-515, 523, 534-535, 537, 542, 545, 548-549, 555, 563564, 567, 591-592 metaphor(s), metaphorical, 5, 9, 26, 43, 115-116, 217, 250-251, 350, 378, 439, 445-446, 467, 478, 489, 491, 499, 535, 538-539, 541-543, 555, 588 metonymy, metonymic(ally), 113, 115, 178, 266, 285, 321, 324, 427, 489, 491, 543, 592 microtoponym(s), vi, 148-150. See toponym(s) misantonym(s), v, xi, 11-26 morpheme(s), 122, 361, 364, 397 morphology, morphological(ly), 85, 121, 123, 259-262, 266, 268, 270-271, 275-276, 348, 380, 466, 490-491, 496, 519, 532, 540, 548, 551, 590, 595 motivation, 12, 100, 106, 117, 121, 123, 126, 138, 149, 236, 261, 265, 275, 294, 409, 414, 416, 428-429, 465, 487, 491-492, 495-496, 524, 535, 537, 543, 599, 603 multiculturalism, multicultural, 16, 77, 83, 219, 232, 241 multilingualism, multilingual, 69, 76, 168, 170-171, 211, 213, 232, 241, 258, 293, 360, 564 name giver(s), xiv, 35, 137, 139142, 144, 148, 150, 152, 154157, 343, 351, 524, 590 name-giving, x, xiv, 33, 139, 255, 408-409, 414-415, 421, 465. See naming names of articles and periodicals (journals and magazines), vii,

617

xii, 22, 224-236. See hemeronym(s) names of (cultural) associations, vi, xii, 132, 185, 201, 207-208, 210-218, 220 names of avenues, 85-86, 92. See odonym(s) names of awards, 22-24 names of business establishments/ business name(s), xii, 78, 105, 117, 178. See company name(s) and names of firms names of celebrities/celebrity name(s), ix, xv, 410, 467, 597608 names of commercial entities, vi, 107, 132, 148-150, 153, 159 names of countries, country name(s), 125-128, 345, 398, 536 names of firms/firm name(s), xii, 107, 118, 120, 125, 130, 171, 259, 343, 352, 368, 403, 563564, 589 names of food(s)/food stalls, vii, xiii, 239, 260, 262, 269, 293313, 328, 354-358, 360, 362, 364, 366, 368-370, 372, 391392, 394-397, 402, 430-431 names of forms of accommodation, 148, 152-153 names of neighbourhoods, v, 14, 68, 70, 198, 201-202 names of organisations, viii, xiii, 3, 132, 213, 217, 219-220 names of perfumes, 21, 140, 154, 316, 355 names of pizzas/pizza name(s), vii, 145, 168, 284, 287, 328-338, 343, 350, 359, 371-373 names of places/houses of worship (churches, synagogues), vi, xii, 20, 185-206 names of squares, xi, 85-86, 89, 94, 98-99 names of streets/street name(s), 8587, 89-94, 97-99, 165, 170, 198,

618

Index nominum et rerum

200, 204, 297-298, 438-441, 488. See odonym(s) naming, vi, viii-x, xii, xiv-xv, 11, 57-58, 64-65, 81, 92, 107, 113, 115-116, 145, 148-150, 153, 155, 165, 186, 216, 220, 229, 231-236, 243, 248, 252, 255, 258-259, 275, 295, 343, 360, 365-366, 379, 383, 392-394, 408, 413-414, 416, 418-422, 428, 430-433, 473, 478, 484485, 489, 497-498, 507, 524, 529, 532, 534-535, 542-544, 555, 557-558, 560, 562, 564, 566, 568-569, 571, 573, 575576, 578-585, 588, 590-593, 596, 600 neologisation, neology, 11, 38, 549 neologism(s), 11, 146, 266, 278, 286, 289, 318, 353, 403, 443, 549, 584, 590, 592 nick(s), 524-526, 528-529. See nickname(s), user name(s) and virtual name(s) nickname(s), nicknaming, viii-ix, xiv, 15-19, 43-44, 141, 227, 231, 233, 236, 251-252, 409410, 417-421, 428, 457-469, 477, 479, 482, 485, 491, 494, 496, 506-508, 510, 512-516, 518-519, 524-527, 530, 578, 583, 585-586, 588 nomination, 489-495 nuclear/non-nuclear (proper names), 131-132, 146. See peripheral and prototypical/nonprototypical number plate(s), ix, xv, 557-564 odonym(s), odonymy, 85, 92, 150, 444. See hodonymy, 592 official/unofficial name(s), 92, 99, 111, 128, 200, 202-203, 254, 458, 473, 475, 495-497, 506507, 512, 515-518, 524, 526, 542, 583

onomastic(s), v, vii, ix-xv, 2, 4, 10, 28-33, 36-37, 45, 48, 85-88, 90, 92, 94, 96, 98-100, 117-119, 120-122, 129-130, 131, 135, 138-139, 146-147, 148-150, 152, 154, 157, 186, 191, 202203, 208, 213, 224, 226-227, 230, 234, 236, 240, 255, 257, 273-276, 314, 323, 328-329, 341, 343, 347, 351, 359-360, 367-370, 403, 407-408, 411412, 413, 417, 420-422, 426, 432-433, 435, 442, 444, 451452, 460, 469, 473-474, 484, 485, 502, 506, 519, 524-525, 529, 532-533, 535, 541-545, 549, 569, 571, 573-575, 578, 590-592, 596, 598-600, 607-608 onomasticon, xii, 131, 135, 137, 139, 149, 361-362, 483, 518, 544 onym(s), onymic, 2, 8, 121, 359, 445, 485, 489-491, 494, 498, 535, 572 opaqueness/opacity, opaque, 108, 111, 113, 197, 261, 271-272, 277-278, 280, 282, 284, 286, 288, 290, 292, 348, 351, 461, 523, 526, 537 oronym(s), 374, 444 ostensive, 516-518 other(ness), 207-210, 212, 214-215, 217-220, 254, 325, 399, 474, 478, 518, 556, 565, 572 paradoxical name(s), v, xi, 28, 30, 32-36, 38-40, 42, 44-46, 48 patronym(s), patronymic(s), 133, 317, 321, 444, 447-448, 451, 476, 480-481 pattern, xi, 11, 16, 22, 43, 70, 81, 120, 123-124, 126, 128-129, 133, 145, 195, 210, 330, 357, 362-366, 391, 409, 420, 428, 430, 470, 490-491, 494-496, 523-524, 529, 533, 536, 539,

Onomastics in Contemporary Public Space 541, 543, 579. See formation pattern, 110, 112-113, 115, 420, 524 peripheral, 131-132, 135, 146-147 personal name(s), v-vi, xi, 15, 17, 28, 30, 32-36, 38-46, 48, 108, 131-138, 140, 142, 144, 146, 277-278, 230, 233-234, 269, 272, 473, 476, 485, 506, 524, 548, 553, 560-562, 605 phonetic(s), 5, 10, 71, 79, 260, 270, 321, 349, 363, 381, 385, 426, 429, 444-445, 450, 452, 474, 479, 494, 522, 526, 537, 548551, 579, 603 place name(s), 12-13, 15, 85, 91, 99-100, 110-111, 113, 116, 165, 226, 228, 230, 232, 236, 299, 409, 411, 431, 544. See toponym(s) pragmatic(s), xi, 2, 25, 46, 49, 59, 64, 113, 132, 134, 221, 231, 233, 343, 350, 431, 452, 471, 473, 476, 482-483, 489, 523524, 526 pragmatonym(s), 2, 4-7, 131-132, 444 private (space), ix-x, 17, 87-88, 161162, 395, 472, 480, 498, 506507, 509, 518, 566, 597, 607608 product name(s)/names of products, vii, x, xiii, 21, 118, 127, 131132, 141, 148, 159, 162-163, 172-173, 175-176, 178-180, 183, 221, 229, 235, 255-256, 257-262, 264-267, 269, 271273, 275, 341-343, 350-351, 359-360, 366-369, 371, 375, 377, 386, 391-394, 402-404, 491, 599-600 product line (name(s)), 358-359, 371-372, 377-378, 392, 401-402 proper name(s)/noun(s), v, vii-viii, xi, xiv, 2-3, 6, 10, 11-12, 14, 16, 18, 20, 22, 24-26, 40, 50-54, 56-

619

64, 107, 118, 120, 125, 127, 131-132, 134-135, 143, 146147, 149-150, 160, 172-173, 175-176, 179, 182-183, 197, 206, 236, 258, 277-278, 286, 289-290, 315, 317, 323-324, 326-327, 342, 345, 348, 352360-361, 401, 426, 428-429, 432, 443-446, 448-456, 473474, 476, 478, 480-483, 486488, 491-493, 498, 501, 506, 517, 524, 527, 530, 532-535, 538-542, 544-545, 554, 571572, 576, 578-580, 585 prototypical/non-prototypical, 132, 444, 499, 538, 541 pseudonym(s), viii, xiv, 96, 139, 227, 236, 327, 343, 414, 444, 457, 468, 485-503, 524, 592, 599, 603, 605, 607 psycholinguistic(s), xi-xii, 186, 208, 227, 518 public space, v-xv, 85-88, 90, 92, 94, 96, 98-100, 117, 161-162, 164-171, 187-188, 208, 210, 217, 230, 237, 240, 294, 318, 323, 343, 352, 375, 470, 472, 474, 480, 483-484, 498, 506507, 509, 566, 583-585. See public opinion, 597, and public interest, 599, 602-604, 606-607 pun(s), punning (grahemic, onomastic ~), ix, xv, 4, 13-14, 18, 23, 25, 28, 30, 36-37, 39, 43-49, 270-271, 292, 384, 430, 479, 548, 550-552, 554-556 real name(s), 19, 140, 146, 251, 407, 410, 415-418, 421, 462, 499, 511, 525-527, 599 reference, 2-5, 22, 50-51, 53-54, 5758, 60-61, 63-64, 86, 94-95, 9798, 110, 115, 122-123, 128, 148, 156-157, 190, 261, 341-342, 350-351, 364-365, 379-380, 383-384, 397-398, 439, 441,

620

Index nominum et rerum

444, 466-468, 472, 474, 513, 516-517, 535, 537, 539, 541, 543, 564, 573, 578, 582, 588589, 600, 605 referent(ial), 50-54, 56-57, 60-61, 63, 350, 360, 417, 445, 448, 476, 478, 482, 506, 524, 527, 534 rural (space), x, 203 semantic(s), v, vii, ix, xi, xv, 2-4, 6, 8-10, 12, 26, 38, 42, 50-52, 5465, 71, 98, 117, 122-123, 127128, 136-137, 143, 152, 159, 183, 258-262, 264-265, 268, 271-272, 277-278, 280, 282, 284-286, 288-290, 292, 315, 317, 321, 323, 329, 338, 341, 346 349-350, 363, 380, 398, 411, 426-427, 429-431, 443446, 448-451, 453, 459-462, 463, 465, 474, 476, 479, 483, 489-491, 499, 523-524, 526527, 533, 535-536, 538, 540541, 548-549, 578-580, 582, 584, 586, 588, 590, 592, 594, 596, 602. See asemantic seme(s), 4, 8 sense(s), 13, 22, 34, 36, 39, 42, 48, 50-51, 53-54, 60, 64, 108, 110, 113-114, 151-152, 154, 179, 231, 283, 318, 322-324, 362, 429, 550-551, 555 shop name(s), store name(s)/names of shops, stores, 70-71, 77-81, 115-116, 120-121, 125, 140, 156, 163, 170, 378-380, 410, 491 sign(s), 3, 68, 70, 75-76, 78-79, 120, 161, 163, 165, 168, 170, 211, 218-220, 258, 315, 359, 383, 393, 396, 430, 443-445, 447448, 452, 471, 474, 511, 517, 522, 525-527, 537, 542-543

significance, signification, 33, 227, 234, 435-437, 439, 441, 471473, 517, 519, 534, 594 signifier/signified (significant/ signifié), 350, 471, 523, 537 sociolinguistic(s), viii, xi-xii, 68-69, 71, 75, 82-84, 168, 187, 205, 210, 219, 221, 227, 235, 413414, 416, 418, 420, 422, 444, 471, 473-474, 599, 608 stylistic(s), 5, 8, 10, 146, 317, 324, 380, 431, 448, 470, 474, 478, 523, 526 surname(s), viii, 39, 125, 136, 138141, 143, 170, 227, 233-234, 245, 294, 305, 341, 414, 417421, 462, 465, 468, 470, 472478, 480-482, 484, 485, 490498, 507, 510-513, 519, 523, 526, 560-561, 563-564, 566, 569-570, 573 symbol, 2, 24, 42, 51, 61, 87, 94-95, 107, 110, 126, 143, 154, 168, 186-187, 204, 210-211, 217219, 242, 249, 253, 257-258, 264, 315, 324, 326, 341, 356, 404, 438-441, 452, 472, 490, 498, 522, 587, 602-603, 607 synchronic, x, xv, 68, 114, 160, 200, 217, 255, 343, 433, 459, 484, 533, 593, 602 synonym(s), synonymy, synonymous, 51, 59-60, 139, 141, 150, 173, 180, 182, 198, 283-284, 363, 385, 528, 539, 541-542, 572-573 syntax, syntactical, 60-62, 64-65, 112, 132, 166, 260, 269, 315, 345, 349, 399, 402, 490, 522, 538, 548 theory: of names/name theory, v, xi, 1, 10, 46, 53, 146, 160, 206, 225, 229, 231, 530, 576; onomastic ~, 149; ~ of

Onomastics in Contemporary Public Space reference, 57-58; counterpart ~, 55, 64; partial descriptive ~, 61 toponym(s), toponymy, toponymic, viii, xi, xiv, 11-13, 20, 85-86, 89, 92, 98-100, 122, 124-125, 150, 160, 165, 170, 189, 225, 228, 232, 234-236, 288, 292, 324, 341, 345-351, 361-363, 365, 396, 398, 431, 435-436, 438, 440-442, 443-444, 451, 460, 467, 485, 490, 510, 521, 526, 535, 537-543, 592 trade name(s), 106, 117, 131-132, 172, 228, 242, 257, 261-262, 315, 323 trademark(s)/trade mark(s), 242243, 358, 605, 607 translation (of names), viii, xiv, 4-5, 232, 235, 443-446, 448-454, 456, 528, 539, 542, 573 transparency, transparent, 31, 111112, 129, 212, 242, 259-262, 264, 271-272, 275, 289, 320, 323, 348, 351, 383, 417, 426427, 446, 459-464, 523, 535536, 543, 559 truncation, truncated, 122-123, 141, 282-283, 287, 383, 474, 477, 515, 522 unconventional anthroponym(s)/ name(s), xi, xiv, 196, 200, 420, 520, 522, 524, 526, 528, 530 unofficial name(s), 200, 203, 473, 526

621

urban (area/space), v-vi, x-xi, 68, 70, 72, 85-87, 92, 98-100, 120, 148-149, 161-162, 166, 170171, 203, 235, 293, 442, 526 user name(s), ix, 520, 522-530 variation, viii, 81, 155, 221, 271, 276, 328, 362-363, 366, 396398, 470-474, 476, 478, 480, 482, 484, 510-511, 598 virtual name(s), 506-507, 509, 516, 518, 524 virtual space, ix, xiv, 318, 472, 505, 506, 518, 520, 522-526 weather name(s), naming weather systems, ix, xv, 578-584, 588, 590-592 wine name(s)/name(s) of wine, vii, xiii, 163, 240-256 word formation, 6, 84, 121, 180, 184, 258-262, 264, 266-268, 271-272, 278, 280, 284, 286288, 361, 364-366, 397, 401402, 490, 513, 540, 590-591 word order, 138, 269, 271, 491-492, 539, 569 wordplay(s), play on words, 24, 2930, 32, 48, 135, 143, 145, 400, 426, 428, 431, 451, 514-515, 548 zoonym(s), zoonymy, ix, xiv, 526, 531, 532, 544, 592