…. a quiche is just a quiche, a pie is just a pie….
It is a shame that I can’t take credit for that – I stole it from a silly Friday night hashtag game called #MusicMenu. That was the clear winner, in my view. What with that and overdoing the all-night reading on Flannery O’Connor, I started to wonder a bit about words and names.
There is a female writer on society and politics over here on Airstrip One whose name, shortened and childlike, matches her willed persona as a post-postmodern Peter Pan, even though, in the bad old days of patriarchy, the age of 27 was generally considered adulthood. I wondered, in the blurry haze of dawn, whether we would read or discuss this lady if she were called Maud Choldmondley-Smyth. Possibly not.
Similarly, would we ascribe to Flannery O’Connor’s writing – her name bringing into our minds soft echoes of flamboyance, flaneurism, flaming and flaunting – the same qualities of shock, humour and fantastical Holy Love if she had stuck to her given name of Mary O’Connor?
I told you I was sleep-deprived. Awaiting the obligatory ‘what’s in a name’ comment, dear readers. For, the fundamental things apply…as thyme goes by.
Image rights here.