What’s in a name? (in the Czech Republic)

Naming a child is like finding the perfect title for a piece of writing: it lets people know what to expect. Unfortunately you cannot, as many teachers of creative writing will advise, “leave the title to the end” when it comes to naming a newborn. Therefore, different countries and cultures have different strategies for making sure the name is right. Or at least, not too wrong.

The Czechs have a very strict, top-down approach. Either you pick a name from the calendar of Czech name days or you have to apply for the name you have chosen for your baby to be recognised and authorised. This involves the fairly bizarre process of writing a formal request to the head of the Czech Language Institute, or “the lady in Prague“ as she is known by most candidates.  She grants or denies permission and charges a fairly hefty price for her research work.  By all accounts it is actually just one lady, and it is amazing to think of her sitting at her desk, strictly controlling the naming of Czech babies from afar for generations. Still, you cannot fault the level of research. We chose a fairly common Scottish name for our baby, deriving from the name of an island where my relatives once lived. The results of the lady in Prague’s research came back with the triumphant verdict that our baby´s name was a real name (díky), was in fact a Scottish name (díky moc) and that furthermore it derives from the name of a Scottish island (no super).

Still, it is arguable that a more relaxed approach is also unsatisfactory. Many parents in America appear to be competing for the most novel and creative name. It seems to be unfashionable to use the same name twice, just as wearing the same dress twice is a no-no in top fashion circles. The UK is not far behind in this trend, and some generations have it worse than others. At my university, it was not uncommon to run into a “Merlin“ or a “River“, who by introducing themselves also revealed whether their parents had spent the 1960s getting high and radical or immersed in fantasy literature. I also knew a set of twins called “Hector“ and “Troy“ who, whilst being lovely lads, were just not able to live up to such grand titles. The fact that their parents had no doubt met at an Oxbridge Classics convention did not stop them being two awkward, waffling Hugh Grant-esque figures, who blushed each time they had to introduce themselves.

The Czech approach, though tough, does protect children from wearing the remnants of their parents’ identities like badly thought out tattoos for the rest of their lives. It also gives birth to the great Czech culture of creative nicknames, which allows us to distinguish between the various Pavels, Honzas, Lenkas and Terezas in our lives. But recycling the same small pool of names over and over again for generations gives them a worn out, overused feel, which does not fully match the miracle of a new human being. It is also pretty hard on the parent, especially an international one and hinders the culture from evolving and absorbing new and more varied identities.

Maybe like the title for any good piece of writing, the best idea is to keep it broad but simple at the beginning and focus on the main point you want to get across, thus leaving your creation plenty of room to grow into what it is supposed to be. And now if you will forgive me, I am off to brainstorm a better title for this piece.