Oxford Handbooks Online: Theoretical Foundations of Literary Onomastics

Theoretical Foundations of Literary Onomastics
Oxford Handbooks Online

Grant W. Smith
The Oxford Handbook of Names and Naming
Edited by Carole Hough
Print Publication Date: Jan 2016 Subject: Linguistics, Semantics, Pragmatics

Online Publication Date: Mar 2016 DOI: 10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199656431.013.41
Abstract and Keywords
Philosophers have long debated whether names carry any descriptive meaning or
function simply as designators. Frege distinguished the act of reference from the sense a
name might carry from different contexts, and Russell proposed that names function as
abbreviated descriptions that can be judged true or false. Kripke and most others now
argue that names are rigid designators of a definable entity. However, names are better
viewed as semiotic signs that evoke a variety of associations, and successful
communication as an addresser’s use of a name to evoke relevant but not perfectly
identical associations. C. S. Peirce described the general types of associations as iconic,
indexical, and symbolic, and in literature these are more varied than in most uses of
language. We may assume that literature has artistic form and therefore that the semiotic
associations possibly evoked by names have thematic relevance, open to interpretation
but subject to systematic analysis.
Keywords: literary onomastics, semiotics, philosophy of language, theories of reference, names, associative
meaning, interpretation, communication
20.1 Introduction
THE study of literature is about how language communicates human experience and
gives some aspects of experience a particular significance, and thereby meaning. Naming
is a specific and elemental way in which humans use language, and so the function and
meaning of names lie at the very heart of literature and of philosophical debates about
language. A theoretical view of how names contribute to literary meaning must therefore
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begin with a look at the philosophy of language and particularly at the debate about name
meaning and how language is used in making references.
Plato first raised the issue of reference and meaning in his dialogue Cratylus, in which
Cratylus argues that there is a natural, and hence descriptive, relationship between all
words (common as well as proper nouns) and their referents. Hermogenes disagrees,
arguing that the relationship between words and their referents is instead arbitrary, a
simple set of social conventions. They appeal to Socrates, but he argues on both sides of
the dispute and leaves the question essentially unresolved.
John Stuart Mill (1973 [1843]) set the modern basis for future discussions of names by
drawing a categorical distinction between common and proper nouns. Common nouns
carry meaning because their definitions specify sets of common attributes among all
items in the class of things named—for example, the word dog refers to a set of attributes
shared by all examples within the class of things so named. Proper nouns, by contrast,
such as Fido, do not carry meaning in this sense because they refer to specific rather than
common attributes, thereby designating individual items within a class. Even though
proper names may evoke many specific associations in the minds of individual addressees
(see Jakobson 1960), Mill dismisses this aspect of meaning as incidental to the act
(p. 296) of reference rather than integral to it: ‘By saying: This is York, [the listener may
understand] that it contains a Minster. But this [is] by virtue of what he has previously
heard concerning York, not by anything implied in the name’ (Mill 1973 [1843]: 36). That
is to say, the communicative value of any linguistic expression is to be seen strictly in
terms of the analytical parameters of its definition, and while common nouns must
connote common attributes shared by all members of a group, the essential function of
proper nouns is to designate a single individual. That single individual may have
recognizable attributes, perhaps Fido’s shagginess, but the name itself does not connote
those attributes as a part of its definition. That is to say, a specific extralinguistic entity
will have attributes that are called to mind when it is referred to, but the name that is
used to make the reference is not defined as a word by those attributes. Thus, the name
as a feature of language has no meaning beyond its grammatical function, that is, the
designation of a specific extralinguistic entity.
Mill’s analysis has had profound influence but has not gone unchallenged. In the rest of
this chapter, I hope to sketch in very brief form the philosophical debate over the
meaning of names, and then to propose that the semiotic theories stemming from the
philosophical work of C. S. Peirce (1955) (and others) suggest a better approach to such
meaning. Language is a communicative tool, and semiotics considers the possibilities of
interpretation to be the most important aspect of meaning—not the attributes in a
definition or the analytical essence of the referent, as Mill and others suggest. Rather, the
interpretation of every reference arises from a variety of associations, including
knowledge addressees may already have of a referent, the context envisioned by the
speaker, and, of course, the word (sign) itself. In fact, a sign usually evokes varied
associations simultaneously. Meaningful associations are certainly restrained by social
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conventions and interaction, but they depend on, and arise from, pre-existing associations
in the minds of addressers and especially addressees.
By focusing on the types of associative relationships within a communicative transaction,

we can also observe at least three important differences between the ways in which
names function in daily speech vis-à-vis imaginative literature. One difference can be
seen in the greater degree of prosodic inventiveness in literature. Although we may
observe increasing coinages of personal names in recent years, these follow recognizable
morphological patterns, but in literature, especially children’s literature, we find more
play with the sounds of language and fewer restraints—for example Pooh. Another
difference lies in the rhetorical uses of references, the ways in which authors sometimes
manipulate the interpretive associations by delaying or totally withholding the
identification of people, places, or things. A third difference is the greater frequency and
degree to which names in literature may be interpreted symbolically. Our thematic
understanding of literature arises largely from the symbolic nature of language, including
the many associations possibly evoked by names. At the end of this chapter I shall
propose that full and complete analyses of names in literature should classify the various
types of names found and explain their thematic relevance. Even the most ordinary
names carry potential associations from other contexts, and analyses need to show how
some associations are more thematically relevant than others. As part of a deliberately
crafted sample of (p. 297) language, we may assume that names have thematic relevance
and carry more meaning than in common speech because they are, as Aristotle asserted,
a part of ‘the universal that poetry aims for’ (Hutton 1982: 54).
20.2 Descriptivist Theories of Meaning

Since the time of Mill, two general types of philosophical theories have emerged about
reference and meaning. These are usually referred to as descriptive and causal theories of
reference. Descriptive theories arose in direct response to Mill’s analysis, which is
sometimes referred to as the ‘Fido’–Fido theory because it assumes that the meaning of a
name is simply embodied in and limited to the analytical attributes of the extralinguistic
entity it designates without regard to interpretive associations.
Gottlob Frege (1848–1925) first described a problem with identity statements that can be
represented mathematically, that is, if we compare ‘a = b’ to ‘a = a’ (Frege 1970: 56). The
two signs, ‘a’ and ‘b,’ may be considered different proper names for the same object. For
example, if we say ‘Mark Twain is Samuel Clemens’ or ‘Hesperus is Phosphorus’, both
terms refer to the same entity. According to Mill’s analysis, both statements seem
equivalent to saying ‘a = a’, and their difference is therefore trivial. However, if we
assume that both statements are true, there must be more cognitive significance in the
names than mere identity. In short, saying that ‘a = b’ is not the same as saying ‘a = a’. It
is instead a statement about a relationship in which ‘a’ and ‘b’ carry a different sense
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while making the same reference. Also, for any ‘given reference (an object) there does not
belong only a single sign’ (Frege 1970: 58). Aristotle, for example, may be referred to as
‘the pupil of Plato’ and/or as ‘the teacher of Alexander’.
The difference may be demonstrated by imagining a psychological relation between a

person and a proposition, that is, prefacing a proposition with a relational statement. For
example, if we place the statement ‘Bob believes’ before the proposition ‘Mark Twain
wrote Huckleberry Finn’, it does not necessarily follow that ‘Bob believes Samuel
Clemens wrote Huckleberry Finn’ even though the names Mark Twain and Samuel
Clemens refer to the same extralinguistic entity. Bob might learn the name Mark Twain
while reading the novel Huckleberry Finn, but he might also learn the name Samuel
Clemens while reading about nineteenth-century authors without reference to
Huckleberry Finn. These two names thereby identify the same entity but one name
(identifier) cannot always be substituted for the other because they entail different
understandings of the same entity in different contexts. In similar fashion, the words
Hesperus and Phosphorus identify the same entity, the planet Venus, but are understood
from references to it in different contexts, usually poetic, that is, as the evening star and
as the morning star respectively.
Thus, as a part of their meaning, names clearly denote extralinguistic entities as an act of
reference, but they also carry meaning from contextual associations in terms of sense.
The names Mark Twain and Samuel Clemens, or Hesperus and Phosphorus, carry (p. 298)
different cognitive significance that is unaccounted for by the simple act of reference, and
it is this cognitive significance that Frege calls sense.
In describing his concept of sense, Frege is careful to exclude a merely subjective

interpretation (1970: 59–61). Subjective interpretations of any word vary greatly from
person to person ‘according to the hints of the poet or the speaker’ (1970: 61), and Frege
refers to these as ‘ideas’ based on personal experience. However, the sense of a word,
according to Frege, varies because different verifiable linguistic contexts may be found in
which it has cognitive significance. It is these demonstrable contexts that add descriptive
dimensions to name meaning within a verifiable linguistic universe. These differing
contexts also account for names that are fictitious or purely conceptual. Even such names
as Santa Claus carry cognitive significance, that is, sense, in the objective realm of
thought, even though no reference is made to a tangible object.
Bertrand Russell (1872–1970) developed a different descriptive theory. In his seminal

essay of 1905, ‘On Denoting’, Russell (1973 [1905]), like Frege, sees logical difficulties in
denials of fictitious entities. If names denote existing entities, then statements such as
‘Santa Claus does not exist’ become simplistic redundancies, and poetic explanations,
such as ‘Santa Claus does not exist but there is a Santa Claus’, become logically
contradictory and communicatively worthless.
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However, Russell rejects Frege’s distinction between meaning and denotation. ‘The right
phrase, on the view in question, is that some meanings have denotations’ (1973 [1905]:
112). To account for names referring to fictitious entities, Russell theorized that proper
names function as abbreviated definite descriptions of things that we can know either to
exist or not to exist. For example, if we know ‘Scott was the author of Waverly’, we can
use the name Scott when referring to the author of Waverly.
To give meaning to denotations, Russell theorizes that names are abbreviated forms of
propositions. The statements, ‘The present King of France is bald’, and ‘The present King
of France is not bald’, are both false because the reference is false. That is to say, the
reference, ‘the present King of France’, is an abbreviation of the proposition, ‘This man is
the present King of France’, and such a proposition is obviously false. There is no man,
either bald or not bald, who might be described as the ‘present King of France’.
Names therefore ‘have no meaning in isolation’ (Russell 1973 [1905]: 118) but take on
definite descriptive meanings from appropriate contexts of direct or indirect experience.
They function very much like the demonstratives ‘this’ and ‘that’ in referring to
propositions about things with which a speaker is in some way already acquainted.
Furthermore, we can also judge the truth of names that are fictitious (e.g. Santa Claus) or
conceptual names (e.g. the Theory of Relativity) because they depend on a context and its
formal structure. As Russell (1973 [1905]: 119) says, we can ‘know the properties of a
thing without having acquaintance with the thing itself, and without, consequently,
knowing any single proposition of which the thing itself is a constituent’. That is to say,
we can understand a reference insofar as we understand its context.
As in Frege’s discussion of names, Russell does not describe meaning as a subjective

interpretation that varies from person to person, but as something that can be judged
true or false depending on the contexts in which the name has propositional status.
(p. 299) Russell is happy to point out that denials of false propositions are true, such as,
‘No man, bald or otherwise, is the present King of France’.
20.3 Causal Theories of Name Meaning

Causal theories of reference arose in the second half of the twentieth century, propelled
primarily by lectures Saul Kripke gave at Princeton University in 1970 and later
published as Naming and Necessity (1972 and 1980). Kripke argues that you need not be
acquainted with a uniquely identifying description of an entity, as posited by Russell, in
order to use a name correctly. One only needs to use a name in a way that correctly
identifies the entity in question, and in order to do so, one’s use of a name need only be a
link in a chain of uses following the cause of the name.
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The cause of a name generally amounts to a simple dubbing. For example, when a child is
born the parents, hypothetically John and Mary Smith, may say simply, ‘we’ll call him
Jacob’, and give no explicit reason, assuming merely the acceptability of the name. The
meaning and reasons for the name, even though they exist, are not needed for the name
to be used effectively. Everyone at the naming event will, as a courteous formality,
henceforth use the name Jacob when referring to the child. In addition, many others,
including record keepers and casual acquaintances who have never seen the child, will
rely on the testimony of the parents and others and still be able to refer to the child
accurately with the name Jacob. It has also been argued that each time the name is
subsequently used in reference to the child, we may say that the reference is ‘grounded’
in a context that functions as a basis for still more uses of the name (see, e.g., Evans
1982).
Causal theories highlight key weaknesses in descriptivist theories, especially Russell’s.

For example, most people know nothing about Richard Feynman or his contributions to
the development of quantum electrodynamics, for which he was awarded the Nobel Prize
in 1965, but a few non-specialists would be able to identify him as ‘some physicist’.
Clearly, the phrase ‘some physicist’ is not a very unique identifier as defined by Russell,
and yet the non-specialist is still able to use the name to designate at least one entity
within a group (Kripke 1980: 81ff.).
Another problem with Russell’s descriptivist theory is that people often use names that
may refer accurately but are based on false descriptions. Although Einstein can be
uniquely identified as the person who discovered the Theory of Relativity, Kripke (1980:
85) notes, ‘I often used to hear that Einstein’s most famous achievement was the
invention of the atomic bomb’. If Einstein’s name is used in a way that associates him
with the atomic bomb, even though he never worked on the Manhattan Project, the name
will nevertheless likely be understood to identify one of the world’s most famous
physicists. Similarly, neighbours may talk about the new baby ‘Jacob’ in very uninformed
ways.
Kripke (1980: 83–4) also notes that Kurt Gödel may be accurately associated with proving
the incompleteness of arithmetic, and yet it is also possible that Gödel might have stolen
the proof from his friend Schmidt. In such a case, we must assume that every (p. 300)
time the name Kurt Gödel is used, the true referent is in fact Schmidt, which distorts
intentionality and is obviously a ludicrous assumption.
Similarly, an incorrect name does not necessarily carry its descriptive attributes with its
use, and intended referents are not necessarily obscured by the misuse of names. If a
quotation is erroneously attributed in a footnote, or if a parent uses the name of one child
when addressing another, the reference is not necessarily confused, and a correction is
readily made. In fact, a correction confirms the uniqueness of the name as a simple
designator because the descriptive attributes supposedly implied by the name are denied.
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Therefore, the descriptive attributes cannot be part of the name, and the name must be
functioning purely as a designator of some entity.
The distinction is reinforced by Kripke’s epistemic argument. For example, most of us

would associate the name Richard Nixon with the descriptive phrase, ‘the man who won
the 1968 election’, but we do not know this to be true a priori; we must go out into the
world to know this. The actual winner, had the course of the campaign been different,
might have been the loser (Kripke 1980: 41). Therefore, the descriptive phrase states a
contingency and is not a necessary component of the meaning of the name. What we think
we know about a name, its description, is known a posteriori, that is, by checking the
facts of this world and of other possible worlds.
However, the name itself, when used, designates a particular entity as a necessity,
according to Kripke, not as a contingency. Unlike any descriptive phrase that might be
associated with it, a name designates the same referent no matter what descriptive
phrase might be associated with it or in whatever world it might possibly exist. The name
Richard Nixon would have been used to refer to the same person wherever born and
named and whether or not he had been elected President in 1968. The name, once used,
is ‘a rigid designator [because] in every possible world it designates the same
object’ (Kripke 1980: 48), while the phrase ‘the man elected President in 1968’ might be
associated with someone else in another, different world. Similarly, the new Smith baby
will carry the name Jacob no matter what he does in life (unless, of course, he changes it,
thereby re-dubbing himself). Thus, the concept of necessity is a distinguishing feature of
Kripke’s description of names and in understanding them as ‘rigid designators’.
In a similar manner, Kripke also describes natural kind terms (e.g. tigers, heat, water,
gold) as rigid designators. That is to say, tigers can be defined scientifically as a species in
a way that excludes other large felines and apparent variations among individual tigers.
Heat can be defined as ‘molecular motion’ (Kripke 1980: 131), and gold can be defined as
an element having the atomic weight of 79. Such references have meanings that are
therefore not contingent but necessary. The uses of such natural kind terms differ from
names insofar as their original coinage (dubbing) may precede a scientific and non-
contingent definition of the referent. Gold may have been originally described as a yellow
metal; however, such general attributes are not philosophically referential. ‘Fool’s gold’
has the same general attributes but is not the real thing. Kripke’s point is that ‘[t]‌he
philosophical notion of attribute . . . seems to demand a priori (and analytic)
coextensiveness as well as necessary coextensiveness’ (1980: 138). Gold certainly exists a
priori, and the word gold, in its philosophical sense, is not an ‘abbreviated description’ of
(p. 301) common attributes but a rigid designation of the element with an atomic weight
of 79. In short, the philosophical meaning of gold or any other noun is the analytic
essence of the thing it designates.
If we consider names and terms of natural kinds as two types of references, Kripke (and
other causal theorists) differs from both Mill and the descriptivists. Kripke agrees with
Mill in denying that proper nouns constitute abbreviated descriptions (as argued by
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Russell), but he also disagrees with Mill that common nouns refer to a set of general
attributes. ‘The present view, directly reversing Frege and Russell, (more or less)
endorses Mill’s view of singular terms [i.e. names], but disputes his view of general
terms’ (Kripke 1980: 135). In short, the philosophical meanings of all references, of
common nouns as well as of proper nouns, lie in their analytic function as rigid and
necessary designations.
Kripke’s view of names and references may be summarized in a series of related

propositions: (a) names are non-descriptive; (b) names are causally related to their
referents; (c) names are directly and necessarily referential; (d) names are rigid
designators; and (e) the meaning of a name is the analytic essence of the thing it
designates—just as the word gold refers to the element with an atomic weight of 79.
Thus, the meaning of a reference is restricted to the analytical essence of the entity,
physical or conceptual, in the mind of an addresser, regardless of the addresser’s
analytical understanding. Furthermore, such meaning does not include mental
associations possibly intended by the addresser or that might occur to an addressee. The
point of view pursued below, and contrary to Kripke’s, is that human references are
primarily associative rather than analytic, and that understanding the basic types of
associations is necessary for understanding the ways in which names and references
communicate meaningfully.
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20.4 Two Brief Descriptivist Rebuttals

Causal theories now dominate philosophical discussion of names and reference but have
not gone unchallenged. John R. Searle has argued that causal theories of reference are
incomplete without accounting for a speaker’s ‘Intentional content’ within ‘the Network
and the Background’ of a reference (1983: 251). The idea of an ‘intentional content’
clearly implies a set of interpretive associations attached to a reference, but the difficulty
with Searle’s approach is his emphasis on the addresser’s side of a communicative
transaction and on the truth-value of what the addresser intends. We also need to
emphasize the interpretive associations of addressees, and the fact that every
communicative transaction involves an imperfect negotiation of possible associations by
addressers and addressees. In imaginative literature, a successful author will be
especially sensitive to the possible associations of a reference in the minds of his
audience.
Frederick Kroon (2004) bridges the gap between addressers and addressees by arguing
that successful reference depends on the pretence, by addressers and addressees, of both
the very existence of the referent and a causal chain of the name. For example, (p. 302)
even though a reference to Hamlet may lack semantic content because no such person
exists outside our imaginations, the reference may yet be viewed as a ‘pragmatic
pretense’ (Kroon 2004: 19) assumed by both a speaker and audience for discussion of an
imagined entity. Thus, Kroon acknowledges the important role of the addressee and the
meaningfulness of references to fictitious entities. However, he maintains a causal point
of view (much like Kripke’s) that all references, even those designating fictitious entities,
are presumed to have an analytic essence. He does not explore the ways references may
carry varied associative meanings and can be variously interpreted. In the following I
hope to show that the analytic essence of a reference is seldom as important to either an
addresser or addressee as the associations called to mind by the reference.
20.5 A Semiotic View of Names and Reference

There can be no doubt that a primary function of names is to refer to specific things
within general classes of things, but there are no physical connections between words
and the entities to which they might refer. The only connections are in the minds of the
interpreters. References may evoke an array of simultaneous associations, and these
potential associations include more than the analytic essence of the referents. Thus, the
relative success of references depends in an essential way on cognitive associations
shared by addressers and addressees.
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At the general level, a reference will evoke a range of content and grammar from its prior
uses and, at a more specific level, it will evoke the personal associations within a user’s
experience. For the clerk in a hospital, a baby’s name needs to fit a culturally constructed
pattern of given name and family name, but relatives might recognize a commemoration
and a value placed on family relationships. Similarly, our culture has constructed a wide
array of images associated with the name Obama that reliably identifies an extralinguistic
entity, and when the name is used in different contexts, only some of those images are
relevant. At the same time, individuals carry personal associations to their use of the
name that vary widely and may have little in common. In specialized work, the meanings
of technical terms need to be deliberately restrained for the sake of specificity and
education of novices. In such cases, the rigidity of designations is salutary, but socially
constructed associations are only a portion of the possible associations that a reference
might evoke.
In his formulation of semiotic theory, Charles Sanders Peirce (1955: 99) describes a sign
as ‘something which stands to somebody for something in some respect or capacity. It
addresses somebody, that is, creates in the mind of that person an equivalent sign, or
perhaps a more developed sign’. That is to say, reference is a cognitive function wherein a
sign (be it a name, some other word, or a figurine) evokes pre-existent images in the
mind. It is always, and in a very literal sense, a re-presentation of something in the
(p. 303) human mind, that is, images from previous experience that might, of course,
include conceptual models and analytic definitions.
Pierce distinguishes three modes of associative relationships: relationships based on (1)

similarity, (2) contiguity/correlation, and (3) arbitrary convention. He also uses the terms
icon, index, and symbol to describe the formal relationship between signs and the entities
referred to in an act of reference. An icon ‘is like that thing and used as a sign of
it’ (Peirce 1955: 102); it is a sign that represents something else on the basis of similarity,
as a photograph or map resembles that to which it refers. A photograph of my
granddaughters who live far away reminds me of them. Security forces use camouflage
with the hope that they will be interpreted as a continued part of the environment. If a
bird looks at a moth that is coloured the same as the bark of the tree on which it sits, the
bird will think of bark, and the moth will be safe. By resembling something, an icon brings
that something to mind in the form of an idea.
An index, by contrast, ‘is a sign which refers to the Object that it denotes by virtue of
being really affected by that Object’ (Peirce 1955: 102). In a strict one-to-one
relationship, an index refers to something on the basis of contiguity or correlation, as
smoke indicates fire, a thermometer indicates temperature, or the alarm call of an animal
indicates a predator. It is clearly different from the thing to which it refers, but ‘it
necessarily has some Quality in common with the object’ (Peirce 1955: 102). An indexical
interpretation infers a connection between two iconic recognitions. If the bird sees
movement, it will associate movement with food, and the moth will be eaten.
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A symbol is the most complex of the three types of signs. It infers a relationship between
two or more indices and ‘refers to the Object that it denotes by virtue of a law, usually an
association of general ideas’ (Peirce 1955: 102). Birds can be taught to peck for food at
the command of an indexical sign, possibly a word, but they cannot (we assume) put
words into new relationships with one another to express general ideas. Indexical
interpretations require a tight correlation of time and space between a sign and its
referent, and birds are stuck with one-to-one interpretations. Symbolic references, by
contrast, are reflected in the relationships of indices (words or word parts to nearby
words). Because of their combinatorial rules (phonological, morphological, and
syntactical) symbolic references imply that many things are related by a few attributes,
that is, simply by the rules of language, if by nothing else. Thus, symbolic references can
project an endless array of implicit knowledge.
If references function symbolically, as they commonly do in human language, they may

correlate very little, or not at all, with reality, as we can see with such words as unicorn,
griffin, and vampire. Peirce (1955: 103) describes the realm of symbolic reference as ‘the
possibly imaginary universe’, and wild differences in interpretation are easily seen in
political discourse as well as artistic expression.
At the same time, the symbolic use of language is a great aid to memory. All things can be
analysed indexically, in terms of one-to-one relationships, as computer languages do, but
humans have difficulty remembering such relationships in long series. They have greater
difficulty, for example, in remembering names interpreted indexically, that is, as simple
labels and ‘rigid designators’, than if the same words are contextualized and (p. 304)
interpreted as common nouns. That is to say, people cannot remember proper names
nearly so well as they can infer what words might follow other words in any given
sentence. Thus, the human mind thrives on symbolic references, and language is
essentially symbolic insofar as it implies a system of higher order relationships ‘among an
endless array of indexical references’ (Smith 2006: 20).
20.6 Names as Signs

J. S. Mill and the causal theorists limit the meaning of names to the analytic essence of a
referent. They draw no distinction between names and random labels. However, language
functions more as an associative tool than a logical one, and while the associative
function of names is primarily indexical (designating their referents in one-to-one
relationships), other types of associations may add substantial meaning in an act of
interpretation. Names are best viewed as types of signs, and so the types of associations
they evoke, and hence their meaningfulness, may be described as iconic, indexical, and
symbolic.
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Iconic associations elicited by names can arise from the phonological and orthographic
presentations of words. That is to say, the sensual data, the physical utterance or graphic
representations of language, may be interpreted as mimetic of, and therefore appropriate
to, the entity designated. If we ask Mary and John Smith why they named their child
Jacob, they might give no reason other than, ‘It sounds good.’ Several researchers,
especially Herbert Barry and Stanley Lieberson, have shown distinctive phonological
patterns for masculine and feminine names (see e.g. Barry and Harper 1995; Lieberson
2000). Thus, prosody is an important influence in the naming of children, reflected, of
course, in the plethora of coinages in recent times. My own research has shown that
some phonological patterns are particularly favourable for political candidates (Smith
2007). That is to say, the phonology of names, especially the rhythms of language, seems
to be associated with feelings and meaning, in much the same way as the prosody of a
poem affects its interpretaion.
In a similar way, the shapes of letters can be associated with a referent on the basis of
iconic similarity. Such associations are especially obvious in the design of brand names.
The letters of Exxon, for example, slant forward and combine with the sounds of the word
to suggest acceleration. The lettering of Coca Cola is rounded to suggest bubbles and
flowing liquid. Likewise, the illuminated texts of medieval Europe strove to associate
language itself, or at least literacy, with the intricacies of the word of God. Thus, visually
as well as aurally, the iconic associations sometimes evoked by names may be seen as an
important aspect of meaning and interpretation.
C. S. Peirce (1955) describes indexical associations as strict one-to-one interpretations,

which parallels Kripke’s description of names as ‘rigid designators’, and so designation
should be seen as a vital type of association evoked by names, even the most important
(p. 305) type. Names refer to individual things and, like function words, are relatively
unaffected, semantically, by nearby words.
However, no reference can be understood or have meaning of any sort unless the
addressee has prior knowledge of the thing designated. Except for iconic (e.g.
onomatopoetic) associations, words have no meaning of their own and cannot create an
image except by combining pre-existing images. Thus, every act of reference is in fact a
re-presentation of an image of the referent in the mind of the addressee (or perhaps a
combination of images). In every act of reference, the referent becomes a context that
limits our understanding of, and our sense of appropriateness of, the sign used; what we
know about a referent ineluctably affects our interpretation of the sign. Insofar as the
word York functions as a sign, it evokes a pre-existing image in the mind of the addressee,
and the fact that it ‘contains a Minster’ might be necessary for the reference to be
accurately interpreted, for example for one York to be distinguished from another.
Furthermore, the image conjured in the mind of an addressee by a reference made by an

addresser is never exactly the same as the image that is in the mind of the addresser. If I
tell my friend that this is my dog Fido, my friend will see Fido from a slightly different
angle. If I refer to a definable concept such as the Theory of Relativity, my friend will
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think of details different from my own, and it will take some discussion to determine the
relevance of the reference to a particular situation. Thus, as indices, names certainly
designate individual referents, but our understanding of the reference depends absolutely
on our pre-existing knowledge of the referent. Also, a reference is never equally
understood by everyone. In the use of a sign, an addresser strives to evoke a domain of
relevant associations with the referent known by the addressee. However, the
communicative process is never perfect because two domains never match perfectly.
Symbolic associations stem from the fact that all names are also words that in turn come
from other contexts in which they have, or have had, additional meaning. Just as our
understanding of a reference depends on our knowledge of the referent, it is also affected
by the word used as a sign. Thus, we may say that the interpretation of every reference is
coloured by the lexical attributes in other contexts of the word used as a name. The idea
of colouring carries the rhetorical meaning that our interpretations may focus on one type
of association, for example, the indexical, but also be significantly affected by other types,
especially the symbolic.
It is useful to see the symbolic meaning of names as being relatively transparent or

relatively opaque (see Smith 2006: 22). On the opaque end of the scale, we may observe
that language, as a system, emphasizes the relationships of words to one another more
than their presumed relationships to objective reality, and so every act of interpretaion is
affected by the way in which a name might function as another type of word and its
potential to combine with other words in describing and classifying human experience.
That is to say, the symbolic potentiality of all words may colour our interpretation of very
opaque names. This symbolic potentiality of names is vividly illustrated in brand names
and in the use by real estate developers of idyllic names; carefully selected names
(p. 306) attract buyers—for example Avalon Place and Emerald Estates. The lexical
attributes of such names are carried over as a part of a symbolic interpretation regardless
of any literal applicability.
On the transparent end of the scale are clearly descriptive names, specifying attributes
that are obvious, intentional, and often thematic. For example, the Golden Gate Bridge
spanning San Francisco bay is literally descriptive as well as metaphorical. It spans a
gateway to the vast Pacific Ocean and glistens in the golden sun. It is not made of gold,
but it certainly has value to the economy of the San Francisco Bay area. More
importantly, the name associates the bridge with the state motto and, above all, with state
history and the great gold rush of 1849. Thus, the name not only designates a particular
bridge, but also associates it with a certain group of other contexts in which the word is
used. Of course, descriptive names may also have commercial value.
20.7 Names in Literature
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As signs names evoke specific domains of indexical associations and possibly a wide array
of iconic and symbolic associations. In literature we need to assume a thematic relevance
to these associations and such relevance may be judged in terms of artistic unity.
However, artistic unity should not be limited to the intentions of an author, but should
focus on a range of interpretations. Reasonable interpretations often reach far beyond the
intentions of an author, and so analyses of names can be used to support a variety of
theoretical approaches to a work of art. For example, a Post-Colonial interpretation of
Shakespeare’s Tempest might argue that the names Antonio and Sebastian reflect the
dark side of a civilized society. Similarly, any other critical approach might be supported
so long as the analysis of names assumes the fundamental meaningfulness of semiotic
associations and convincingly explains their thematic relevance.
20.7.1 Iconic Associations
As noted above, a sign is interpreted iconically when it brings something to mind as an

idea because of its physical similarity to the thing signified. In literature, the sounds of
names often suggest ideas that may be thematically relevant. Don Nilsen (2005: 118), for
example, argues that the name Ian Houlihan suggests the biblical phrase, ‘I am who I
am’, in The Life of Pi. Similarly, the first time Othello’s name is spoken in Shakespeare’s
play (and in most subsequent uses), it sounds like a request for an explanation, ‘But,
Othello, speak. / Did you . . .’ (I.iii.110). In Shakespeare’s time, the medial /th/ was
pronounced as a simple /t/, and so the name would have been pronounced O-TELL-O.
Immediately after this first use of the name, Othello explains that he won the love of
Desdemona by telling stories of his life with which she sympathized. Story telling is thus
seen as the basis from which love develops and is repeatedly alluded to as an important
theme of the (p. 307) play. In such examples, which are more frequent in children’s
literature, meaning arises from sound alone.
As I have argued earlier (Smith 2005), the sounds of names also reinforce lexical
meanings and morphological forms. For example, the names Ebenezer Scrooge and
Martin Chuzzelwit have standard forms but also grating sounds that reinforce their
rapacity and miserliness. Among Faulkner’s fictive coinages, the crudity of the Snopes
family is reinforced by the low vowel and the slithering ‘s’ sounds of the name. And
Yoknapatawpha County looks like (but is not in fact) an Indian derivation (specifically
Chickasaw of the Mississippi-Alabama region) typical of many county names in the United
States. There is a similarity of onomatopoetic sounds in different languages, and so it may
be that the sounds of language have some basis in human physiology, but the iconic
reinforcement of names can be seen most clearly and concretely in terms of specific
cultural and thematic values. And in literature, thematic values matter most.
20.7.2 Indexical Associations
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As indices, names create an expectation that we know something or should know

something about the referents, and in literature the indexical function of names helps to
stimulate our curiousity and lead us forward in our reading. Initially we know very little
about the referents (although the sign itself may evoke phonetic, morphological, and
lexical associations). However, names acquire meaningful associations (what Roland
Barthes (1975: 17) calls a ‘semic code’) as the story or lyric progresses, and prior
associations might even be radically altered. For example, in the many plot sources from
which Shakespeare drew for Romeo and Juliet, the principal characters are viewed
primarily as victims of their own lust, but in Shakespeare’s play they acquire a different
meaning—they become victims of their parents’ feud.
An addressee’s expectation to know a referent may also be frustrated for thematic

purposes. Authors sometimes coin fictive names in order to fictionalize historical events.
Marguerite de Navarre, for example, probably refers to her husband, Henri d’Albret, with
the name Hircan in the Heptameron. A name might also be delayed to create a special
interest in a character, or characters may function without names, to indicate their
unimportance, to create psychological distance, or to emphasize, ironically, the absolute
importance of identity in the face of enforced conformity (e.g. the women in Margaret
Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale). In short, the most dominant type of name associations,
the indexical, are those most obviously and easily subject to manipulation for artistic
ends.
20.7.3 Symbolic Associations
As part of an artistic vision, names in literature (vis-à-vis daily speech) are especially apt
to evoke symbolic associations. They may evoke such associations either because they
(p. 308) have potential lexical meanings as other types of words, or because they are
borrowed as names from previous contexts and evoke those associations. Their lexical
potentialities may be described as direct and obviously descriptive, or as indirect and
figurative. Two types of allusions may also be distinguished: (1) the names of the
characters and places themselves, and (2) the names of things external to the story but
mentioned by the characters or narrator. Whatever the mechanism, symbolic associations
show the thematic importance of names and enrich their meanings more in literature
than in other uses of language.
The most obvious form of names with symbolic meaning are those that have potential
lexical meaning of their own that is clear, simple, and direct, sometimes called ‘redende
Namen’, but also referred to as ‘tag names’ or ‘call names’. These might be adjectives
turned to nouns (Shakespeare’s Slender, Arthur Miller’s Willy Lowman), noun substitutes
(Babe or Buck), or new compounds (Malvolio). In a previous article I have referred to
such names as ‘lexical equivalents’ (Smith 2005: 16) and noted that they may contribute
to a sense of artifice. For the sake of verisimilitude, some authors deliberately choose
names that are from the general onomasticon and are more purely indexical, but doing so
Page 15 of 18

sacrifices symbolic potential and thematic richness. Art is not just a slice of life but an
interpretation, as we can see vividly in the writings of Dickens and many others.
Many names of characters and places, even very common ones, invite figurative
interpretations in literature that are rich in symbolic associations and thematically
important. Basic types of figurative interpretations are irony, metonymy, metaphor, and
allegory. Irony is a dominant feature of modern literature, and much irony may be seen in
Shakespeare’s Beatrice who torments Benedick (Benedictus = ‘he who is blessed’)
throughout the play, but eventually confesses her true love. Oscar Wilde also develops an
entire play around the ironies of being Earnest. Metonymic meanings are also obvious in
names such as Goldielocks, Little Red Ridinghood, and Devil’s Valley (the title of a novel
by André P. Brink). As I pointed out in 2005, metaphoric meanings are common but
complex and often laced with irony. It is a type of meaning that ‘arises when some
attributes normally associated with one entity are transferred to a very different kind of
thing’ (Smith 2005: 22). In the Bible, the name Ruth is for a character associated with
patience and loyalty being rewarded with a loving husband, Boaz, but in Morrison’s Song
of Solomon, a similar Ruth is rewarded with brutality and neglect. The term allegory may
be used for figurative interpretations that are sustained, systematic, and philosophical.
There are various types of allegory, but a clear example ‘is the medieval play Everyman,
in which each character is a personification of an abstract concept—Death, Everyman,
Fellowship, Good Deeds, Knowledge, etc. George Orwell’s Animal Farm may also be
interpreted allegorically, but of a special type called fable’ (Smith 2005: 22). Of course,
the types of figurative interpretations overlap, but the complexities of figurative
interpretations merely illustrate the symbolic nature of language itself, including the
symbolic potentialities of names.
Understanding the figurative meanings of names often depends on recognizing

intertextual associations, that is, a name as a borrowing from, or an allusion to, previous
contexts. The meaning of Ruth’s suffering in Morrison’s Song of Solomon is more
poignant (p. 309) when we can draw on our knowledge of the biblical character. James
Joyce tells us something about creativity with the name Stephen Daedalus, and with the
names Theseus and Hippolyta, Shakespeare casts his entire play, Midsummer Night’s
Dream, in the context of Plutarch’s description of a mythical war between the sexes. With
other names in the same play, Shakespeare integrates classical mythology with English
folklore and the common lives of tradesmen. Character names are also blended with
references spoken by the characters themselves to English horticulture, to medieval
traditions, and many classical stories. Thus, names in contemporary literature can evoke
vast stores of symbolic associations from previous literature and cultural history.
20.8 Systematic Analysis
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As elemental acts of language, names offer us invaluable keys for interpreting literature.
All we need do is assume that any particular work has a thematic unity of some sort,
some expression about human experience, even if it seems to say that nothing has
meaning. It follows that some semiotic associations among the numberless ones possible
are more important than others. Every name can evoke many associations and many
shades of interpretation, and these interpretations may reach well beyond the intentions
of the author. A literary analysis is therefore reasonable insofar as it seeks common
themes among the many associations possibly evoked by names in the work analysed.
It follows as a corollary that name analyses should be thorough and systematic. A

classification of names should be a starting point because it can help distinguish thematic
associations. For example, distinguishing character names (and the allusions they utter)
from place-names will help focus on motive and action. Character names might also be
sub-divided into borrowings, lexical equivalents, and descriptive labels (e.g. forester,
duke), and borrowings can be sub-divided again (e.g. classical, biblical, folkloric). In my
analysis of Midsummer Night’s Dream, the names of Theseus and Hippolyta appear to be
borrowed from a very brief passage in Plutarch’s Lives describing the settlement of an
exhausting war between Athenian warriors and the invading Amazons. Settlement of
contention between the sexes is thus an important theme that is reinforced by action and
other name associations (mostly classical).
Literary onomastics is not a literary theory of its own, nor does it offer a bias in social
values. Onomastic analyses may support differing literary and cultural theories or
individualized interpretations. However, names (and some descriptive labels) anchor our
analyses to specific information in the texts we are analysing. Thus, literary onomastics is
simply a type of analysis that is firmly based on language theory and yet is both specific
and systematic.
Grant W. Smith
Grant W. Smith is Professor of English and Coordinator of Humanities at Eastern

Washington University. He has served as President of the American Name Society,
Vice President of the International Council of Onomastic Sciences, Regional
Secretary for the American Dialect Society, and is a long-time member of the
Washington Board on Geographic Names. His current scholarship emphasizes
literary onomastics, especially Shakespeare, but previous publications include
American Indian languages and the emotive effects of language sounds.
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Print Publication Date: Jan 2016 Subject: Linguistics, Semantics, Pragmatics

Abstract and Keywords

Subscriber: Utrecht University Library; date: 13 June 2018

Subscriber: Utrecht University Library; date: 13 June 2018

By focusing on the types of associative relationships within a communicative transaction,

20.2 Descriptivist Theories of Meaning

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The difference may be demonstrated by imagining a psychological relation between a

In describing his concept of sense, Frege is careful to exclude a merely subjective

Bertrand Russell (1872–1970) developed a different descriptive theory. In his seminal

Subscriber: Utrecht University Library; date: 13 June 2018

As in Frege’s discussion of names, Russell does not describe meaning as a subjective

‘No man, bald or otherwise, is the present King of France’.

20.3 Causal Theories of Name Meaning

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Causal theories highlight key weaknesses in descriptivist theories, especially Russell’s.

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The distinction is reinforced by Kripke’s epistemic argument. For example, most of us

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Kripke’s view of names and references may be summarized in a series of related

Subscriber: Utrecht University Library; date: 13 June 2018

20.4 Two Brief Descriptivist Rebuttals

20.5 A Semiotic View of Names and Reference

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include conceptual models and analytic definitions.

Pierce distinguishes three modes of associative relationships: relationships based on (1)

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If references function symbolically, as they commonly do in human language, they may

20.6 Names as Signs

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C. S. Peirce (1955) describes indexical associations as strict one-to-one interpretations,

unaffected, semantically, by nearby words.

Furthermore, the image conjured in the mind of an addressee by a reference made by an

Subscriber: Utrecht University Library; date: 13 June 2018

It is useful to see the symbolic meaning of names as being relatively transparent or

20.7 Names in Literature

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20.7.1 Iconic Associations

As noted above, a sign is interpreted iconically when it brings something to mind as an

20.7.2 Indexical Associations

Subscriber: Utrecht University Library; date: 13 June 2018

As indices, names create an expectation that we know something or should know

An addressee’s expectation to know a referent may also be frustrated for thematic

20.7.3 Symbolic Associations

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Understanding the figurative meanings of names often depends on recognizing

20.8 Systematic Analysis

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It follows as a corollary that name analyses should be thorough and systematic. A

Grant W. Smith is Professor of English and Coordinator of Humanities at Eastern

Subscriber: Utrecht University Library; date: 13 June 2018

Subscriber: Utrecht University Library; date: 13 June 2018

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