Names in Jewish culture and history (שמות בתרבות ובהיסטוריה היהודית)

Just like the names of other cultures, Jewish names too originated as descriptors of appearance, gratitude for answered prayers, qualities parents hoped their kids would have, blessings for a good life, lucky objects, nature (flowers, trees, etc.), decorative words, testaments to the power of God, that sort of thing.

Likewise, surnames didn’t start to become a thing until the Middle Ages. Prior, people just used patronymics (e.g., Ben David, Bat Aharon, Bar Moshe) or names indicating priestly status or tribe. The oldest Jewish surnames are Kohein and Levy, with variants such as Katz, Kahan, Kagan, Kaganowitz, Cohen, Kohn, Kahn, Cohn, Koenishvili, Kohani, Erkohen, Kohanian, Kotatis, al-Kahen, Kahana, Kaplan, Conu, Levine, Levitt, Loewe, Lowy, and Löw.

When surnames started to become mandatory, they were based on jobs, topography, personal characteristics, nicknames, matronymics, patronymics, physical appearance, nature, geographical origin, and decorative objects.

Many words and names were translated directly from Hebrew into the host language; e.g., Chazan became Kantor, Yom-Tov became Bondia, Sofer became Schreiber.

Sadly, many immigrants de-Judaised their names to try to escape antisemitism. E.g., Sarah Moskowitz became Susan Moss; Abraham Rabinovich became Allen Robin; Isaac Garfinkel became Irving Garfield; Miriam Levinson became Mary Lawrence. My next-fave male actor of the sound era was born Emmanuel Goldenberg and adopted the name Edward G. Robinson when he began film acting in the 1920s.

The Howard brothers of the Three Stooges were also originally Horwitz, and Larry Fine’s birth surname was Feinberg.

On the flip side, many people returning to our indigenous homeland of Israel Hebraized their surnames to shed their former disempowered identities. E.g., Bergman became Harari, Rosen became Vardi, Goldberg became Har-Paz, Davidowicz became Davidi. Some new names were patronymical, matronymical, or in homage to loved ones. Other people took inspiration from nature or Jewish history to adopt entirely new surnames.

Contrary to urban legend, absolutely no names were changed at Ellis Island. Name changes had to be done of people’s own free will later. Closer examination of this story reveals the vast majority of immigrants who later changed their names were Jewish and trying to escape antisemitism. Instead of fighting for change and proudly standing up for their birth names, they gave in to society’s prejudices.

Most immigrants also only translated their first names to try to better blend into American society, or simplified the spelling of a surname or slightly shortened it. You don’t hear about people going from, e.g., Hanna Lomachenko to Anne Lockwood, or Matteo Benedetti to Michael Bacon.

Additionally, not all immigrants came through Ellis Island! There were lots of other ports of entry, like Boston, Philly, San Francisco, Charleston, Baltimore, New Orleans, even initial Canadian entries.

There’s been a strong shift in recent generations, as many people in the Diaspora have returned to giving their kids identifiably Hebrew names. Not just Biblical names, but modern names like Galit, Alon, Kochava, Gefen, Ilana, Keshet, Rimon, Yaron, Liat, Liora, Talya, Maytal, Yakira, Mor, Doron, Noa, Amit, Nitzan, Rotem, Vered, Sigalit, Tomer, Yonit, Adiv, Nuriel, Yasur.

Many modern Hebrew names are unisex, which says a lot about how egalitarian Israeli society is. Since we began returning from Diaspora, women worked hard right alongside men to drain malaria-filled swamps and turn barren, abandoned deserts into lush, fertile gardens and oases. Traditional Biblical names are seen as old-fashioned by most modern Israelis.

In some countries, esp. pre-Emancipation, Jews were forbidden to change their names or give their kids names from the host culture, unless they converted to Christianity or Islam. They had to be reminded of their place in society and prevented from fully integrating. In other countries, like Hungary, people were legally mandated to take names from the host culture. Jewish names had to be privately used at home, and there weren’t many officially-approved names of Hebrew origin.

In January 1939 in Germany, women without obviously Jewish names were forced to add the middle name Sara, and men were forced to add the name Israel.

Many Ashkenazim (from Eastern and Central Europe) only name their kids after dead relatives, while Sephardim traditionally name after living relatives. There’s also an Ashkenazic belief that a mere initial constitutes a namesake, even when the names are radically different. As a name nerd, I’m so glad I didn’t grow up with any of those customs! I’d feel so confined and depressed if I were prevented from using original names I love.

I have zero problem with naming a child after a relative or friend, but it feels more meaningful if it’s not forced. The Ashkenazic custom is also rooted in superstitious fears about the Angel of Death getting confused and taking the wrong person with that name.

All signs point to my four-greats-grandpap Phillip Cohn changing his name to pass as Gentile

Many people have both a Hebrew and secular name. The Hebrew name is used on religious documents, when being called to the Torah and given a blessing for healing, and on the gravestone. It’s customary to add a new name or change one’s name during or soon after a serious illness. I added Dafna as a third name after what I strongly suspect was the flu in early ’97. It means “laurel,” the symbol of victory. (It’s also in honor of Stan Laurel, the Laurel Mountains, and the state flower of my birth state.)

The names of one’s parents are also included in the full Hebrew name. Converts are ben/bat Avraham v’Sarah, the foreparents of the Jewish people.

How to research and write Medieval historical fiction, Part I

Before I began writing my alternative history about Dante and Beatrice in June 2021, I started researching the Middle Ages. I’ve loved this wide-ranging era of history since I first read The Decameron in late 2002, but it never became an era I know like the back of my hand. Thus, I needed to research as much as I could about so many different aspects of the 13th and 14th centuries in Italy.

First things first: The Middle Ages specifically refers to Europe from the fall of Rome in  476 until the fall of Constantinople in 1453. These dates are the subject of much scholarly debate, but they’re a good general ballpark. The era is additionally divided into the Early, High, and Late Middle Ages.

If you’re writing about other parts of the world within this timeframe, you’re not writing about the Middle Ages. In China and many parts of Africa, for example, history is classified according to ruling dynasty. Japan had the Kofun, Asuka, Nara, Heian, Kamakura, and Muromachi periods.

Some things to keep in mind while researching and writing:

1. The Julian calendar was used until the 16th century. Catholic countries switched to the Gregorian calendar in 1582, while many Protestant countries waited till the 17th and 18th centuries. The Ottoman Empire and Eastern Orthodox countries held out till WWI. This means that if you’re using a perpetual calendar and like to include exact dates with days of the week, you want to double-check if it factors in the difference between the Julian and Gregorian calendars. If not, you can convert the dates here.

2. This was not a world of Kumbaya and Rainbow Tribes. Even people who lived in huge, multicultural cities like London and Paris or along major trade routes tended to stick with their own kind. I shouldn’t even have to explain what interfaith relations were like until about 1950! Yes, it’s a total myth to claim there was barely any diversity in the Middle Ages, and there was lots of cultural osmosis through trade and travel, but most people also weren’t mixing and mingling with abandon on a personal level.

3. Medieval England doesn’t represent the entire era! Customs, clothing, foods, etc., were much different in places like Russia, Italy, Portugal, Germany, Greece, and Norway.

4. School didn’t have grade levels. There was trivium for younger students (grammar, logic, rhetoric), and quadrivium for older pupils (math, music, astronomy, geometry). Also included in quadrivium were Latin, theology, science, philosophy, debate, and poetry. Children of means were tutored at home, while those of lesser income went to church-run schools. Public schools didn’t exist.

Most girls weren’t taught as many subjects as boys unless they entered a convent. Since nuns were expected to understand the Bible and important theological teachings, they had access to much more advanced studies than women restricted to housekeeping and childrearing. Many Medieval nuns were brilliant intellectuals equal or superior to any men.

Because education was structured so differently, it was common for boys to start university at only fourteen. Some were as young as twelve. Traditional subjects included law, theology, philosophy, and medicine. A course of studies took six years. Only a rare few women, like Bettisia Gozzadini, were granted entrance to university.

5. Birthdates often weren’t recorded. At most, we might have baptismal dates or a general idea. E.g., we know Dante was born in late May of 1265, but not which day exactly. I gave him the birthday of 27 May, since 2+7=9, his lucky number.

6. People were generally much more conservative about names. The same fairly small pool of names were used over and over again, even within the same families in the same generation. People were expected to name their kids after relatives. It was very unusual how Dante didn’t name any of his sons after his father, one of several pieces of circumstantial evidence suggesting a less than harmonious relationship.

Behind the Name has a treasure trove of Medieval names in many languages, in both the main database and the submitted names section. Many of these names have been replaced by more modern forms, or fallen out of use entirely. Also keep in mind that some of these names were exclusively used for characters in literature and mythology, not real people.

7. Pet names differed from modern names too!

Character name changes should never be forced

If you’re observing Yom Kippur in lockdown, may you have an easy and meaningful fast despite being deprived of going to synagogue and being with other people!

I recently took a short break in prepping the paperback production of the book formerly known as The Very First (always the title I’ll think of it as) to start work on the final draft of the book formerly known as The Very Next (also always the title I’ll think of that book as). Despite this delay, I have confidence TVF will be ready for its print run soon.

While going through TVN, I began thinking about how many of the Polish characters’ names are kind of boring. Not that that makes them bad names at all, just that they were chosen by a teenager in the pre-Internet age. While naming tended to be more conservative in the old days (i.e., the same small pool of names vs. a wider variety), it wasn’t super-unusual to encounter a name outside the Top 100.

Knowing now that it was extremely uncommon for Polish Jews to have Polish names, I added the detail that the Polańskis and Robleńskis got those surnames from ancestors who converted to Judaism.

A crit partner several years ago thought the explanation/defense of Polish first names is a bit overdone. I took her advice and reworked that aspect so it doesn’t sound so heavy-handed and run into the ground.

All that really matters is that the Polańskis are a modern family who feels it’s important to prove they’re just as authentically Polish as the Gentiles. That includes mostly having Polish names and not speaking Yiddish. They don’t want extra ammunition for persecution.

I changed the names of Krzyś’s older sisters Bogda and Filipa to Salomea and Faustyna, and while those are lovely names, they felt wrong immediately. While Bogda was never particularly developed, Filipa later becomes an important character as Samuel Roblenski’s second wife, the late-life love match he was denied in his first marriage. I can’t think of her by any name but Filipa!

Bogda, however, is also the name of Cinni’s great-grandma, and I’d prefer to avoid confusion by having two secondary characters with the same name. Bronia sounds close enough, and I’ve always liked that nickname for Bronisława.

I also changed the name of Kryzś’s uncle by marriage from Lech Gold to Bruno Lerner. Lech is already the name of Cinni’s grandfather, and Gold was a lazy, thoughtlessly-chosen surname. This guy’s the biggest intellectual in the family, the only one with a Ph.D., working with rare books at the National Library. I also intend to develop him into a more important secondary character, so he deserves more than a placeholder name.

Likewise, I’m changing the surname of Bruno’s adult stepdaughters from Szymborska to Saperstein. Too many names of Gentile origin in the same family feel implausible. It’s pretty obvious I wasn’t socialized in the Jewish community, since I genuinely didn’t know how unusual it was for most people to have surnames native to the host culture!

Bruno’s kids deserve more original names than Zalman and Luiza too. They were originally Solomon and Liza, and later changed to the closest Polish equivalents. Again, nothing wrong with either name, but not chosen carefully, and hardly the kinds of names an intellectual would give his kids.

I played with changing Cinni’s mother’s name to Carine, but that felt instantly wrong. Instead, I changed her birth name from Katarzyna to Karolina, her legal name became Caroline, and her nickname went from Cairn to Carin. One of her great-granddaughters is later named Karyn in her honour, so I couldn’t stray too far.

I’ll admit I was hesitant about keeping her name because it’s now a sexist pejorative. I immediately stop reading when someone calls a woman a “Karen”! If she’s done something legitimately bad, call out the specific action instead of using a slur that terminates thought, shuts down dialogue, and encourages more insulting of and presumptions about a stranger you know nothing about!

The best time to change a character’s name is early on, before you’ve had a chance to become emotionally attached to it. It’s also much easier to change if you’ve had a story shelved for a long time, or this is a secondary character you never got to know very well.

If it feels wrong, you’ll immediately sense it. And if it feels right, that new name might as well represent an entirely different character, nothing in common with the one bearing the original name.

Famous surnames (intentional) in my Russian historicals, conclusion

These days, I mostly find surnames from lists, and have moved past randomly choosing them from outdated encyclopedia and picking names in the news. It’s so much easier to do research now. However, I don’t regret giving some of my characters famous names, either intentionally or unintentionally.

It’s like an Easter egg; e.g., names like Chernomyrdina, Yeltsina, Zyuganov(a), and Yavlinskiy make it pretty obvious how immersed in Russian politics I was in the late Nineties.

I particularly don’t regret giving Lyuba’s stepfather’s family the name Lebedev(a), after Gen. Aleksandr Lebed (1950–2002), the candidate I supported in the 1996 presidential election. He had a very strong third-place finish, and was exactly the kind of leader Russia needs. The name means “swan,” which fits the title and symbolism of the first book.

Anna Akhmatova with her husband and son

Gumilyov, the false name Boris claims for himself, Lyuba, Ivan, and Ginny when deserting Bolshevik soldiers visit them in autumn 1917. Nikolay Stepanovich Gumilyov (1886–1921) was a prominent poet of Russia’s Silver Age, and the husband of poet Anna Akhmatova. He was arrested and murdered by the Cheka. His son, Lev (1912–92), was a historian, anthropologist, ethnologist, and Persian translator.

Rhodes, Katrin’s awesome butler. He’s so fun to write. I created him in 2001, and named him around 2012, after Nick Rhodes of Duran Duran.

Scholl, a radical Greenwich Village doctor with an underground clinic, and a lot of courage and compassion. He was named for Sophie and Hans Scholl of the anti-Nazi White Rose group.

Tolstaya, a gymnasium teacher. Obviously after the famous Tolstoy family, titled counts who’ve produced scores of notables over the centuries.

Baryshnikova, wily orphanage girl Klarisa, whom Lena Yeltsina names her first daughter after in gratitude. As an adult, she continues using her skill at forging and double-crossing to help people with defecting. Mikhail Nikolayevich Baryshnikov (born 1948) is one of the greatest danseurs in history.

Nureyev, an interrogator in Lubyanka, named after venerable danseur Rudolf Khametovich Nureyev (1938–93).

Grinkova, the midwife who serves the fictional Russian–American farming town of Firebird Fields, Minnesota, very near Duluth. Mrs. Grinkova delivers Lyuba’s sixth, seventh, and eighth children, as well as all of Tatyana’s children. She and Ivan frequently trade sharp barbs because of their very different views on Lyuba continuing to have children with her history of high-risk pregnancies and deliveries.

In the fourth book, Mrs. Grinkova removes the husband stitches given to Nikolas and Kat’s daughter Raisa against her will. She and Raisa’s future second husband Filaret will come to her rescue near the end of the book, after husband Gustav’s most monstrous act.

Sergey Mikhaylovich Grinkov (1967–95) was the 1988 and 1994 OGM in pairs skating with his wife, Yekaterina Gordeyeva, with whom he also had four World golds, three European golds, one European silver, one World silver, one World Junior gold, and several other assorted golds and silvers. I’ll write a review of the book My Sergei sometime this year.

Aleksandr V. Popov during the 2008 Olympics, Copyright KenChong 一洲

Popov, one of creepy Basil Beriya’s fellow inmates at The Marx Center for the Crazies. He’s convinced he’s Karl Marx. Aleksandr Vladimirovich Popov (born 1971) is widely considered the greatest sprinter in swimming history. He has four OGMs, and two World Championship golds.

Nemova, another fellow inmate, who screams out the Nicene Creed nonstop. Basil is chained to the wall between these people. Aleksey Yuriyevich Nemov (born 1976) is one of the greatest gymnasts of history, with twelve Olympic medals (four of them gold), thirteen World Championship medals (five of them gold), four European Championship medals (three of them gold), and two European Team Championship golds.

House of Zubov coat of arms

Zubov, a former count, WWII Red Army hero, and young widower who moves into the Minneapolis apartment of the unhappily married Raisa and her twin Lyudmila in 1950. Raisa is instantly smitten with the handsome, polite, kind-natured Filaret, and begins dreaming of having an affair.

Filaret treats her twins Diana and Pamela much better than their father Gustav, and his respectful treatment of Raisa is night and day next to the increasingly cruel way Gustav treats her. He and Mrs. Grinkova will come to their rescue towards the end of the fourth book.

Though Zubov is a real noble surname, I also chose this name because of Dr. Nikolay Ivanovich Zubov, the subject of Chapter One of Aleksandr Isayevich Solzhenitsyn’s Invisible Allies. Dr. Zubov and his wife repeatedly risked their lives to hide his writings, and suffered a lot for their association, but remained loyal allies who refused to betray their friend.

Famous surnames (intentional) in my Russian historicals, continued

Tvardovskiy, Lyuba and Ivan’s friend Aleksey. In America, he changes the spelling to Tvardovsky. His surname was originally Trotskiy, which really only has one association. I don’t see it as a bad association, but it’s not one of those famous names (e.g., Lennon, Jackson) that feels believable on a non-famous person.

The replacement not only has a similar sound, but was also the surname of literary magazine Noviy Mir‘s chief editor, Aleksandr Trofimovich (1910–71). Under his tutelage, the magazine published a lot of things butting up against the Party line.

Teglyov, Lyuba and Ivan’s friend Pavel, who saves their daughter Tatyana’s life when villain Misha Godunov throws her in the Skhodnya River as a baby. This is a character in Turgenev’s story “Knock, Knock, Knock.”

Premier Brezhnev (1906–82) in 1943

Brezhneva, curmudgeonly orphanage mother in Kyiv. Mrs. Brezhneva is so fun to write, because she’s so predictable, while also demonstrating slow but steady emotional growth. As loath as she is to admit it, she grows to deeply care for co-director and former orphanage girl Inna, as well as Inna’s children and the children of the other now-adult orphanage girls who also defected to Iran. Leonid Ilyich Brezhnev was Soviet Premier from 1964–82.

Andropov, a boardinghouse manager who appears in the first book. Yuriy Vladimirovich Andropov was Soviet Premier from November 1982–February 1984.

Yavlinskiy, a doctor who treats Ivan’s broken arm in the first book, and lets Lyuba, Ivan, Ginny, and Tatyana hide in his clinic for two weeks. Grigoriy Alekseyevich Yavlinskiy founded social-liberal party Yabloko (Apple), and came in fourth in the 1996 presidential election.

Grigoriy A. Yavlinskiy (born 1952), Copyright Бахтиёр Абдуллаев (Bakhtiyor Abdullayev)

Kerenskaya, orphanage girl Olga, who’s later adopted by Inessa’s Dyadya (Uncle) Dima and marries Inessa’s cousin Rustam. She’s eight months pregnant when she wades across the creek-like River Bug to Poland in 1937. Shortly after her arrival in America, she gives birth to her first child. In 1945, her family and Inessa’s family move to Staten Island.

Aleksandr Fyodorovich Kerenskiy (1881–1970) was a prominent politician during the short-lived Provisional Government of 1917, and the leader of Russia from July–November 1917. He narrowly escaped after the Bolshevik takeover, and settled in France. After the Nazi invasion, he immigrated to the U.S.

Aleksandr F. Kerenskiy

Kuchma, Ukrainian orphanage girl Valentina, another of the girls adopted by Dyadya Dima. She becomes very close to Inessa after they’re mistakenly sent to another orphanage, which influences Inessa to beg Dyadya Dima to adopt a little girl too. It means so much to Valentina to have a family again, and that Dyadya Dima respects her origins so much he tells her to never change her name, forget her native language, or call him Tata.

Leonid Danylovych Kuchma (born 1938) was Ukraine’s second president, 1994–2005.

Kwasniewska, Polish-born orphanage girl Zofia, also adopted by Dyadya Dima. She moves home to Poland as an adult, and ends up at the same rocket-making forced labour factory as Darya and Oliivia in the third book. Zofia survives Mauthausen with them too. She’s reunited with her three children after the war, and they’re given permission to join their family in America. Aleksander Kwaśniewski (born 1954) was President of Poland from 1995–2005.

Iosif Brodskiy (Joseph Brodsky)

Brodskaya, orphanage girl Irina, who appears in the first two books. Iosif Aleksandrovich Brodskiy (1940–1996) was persecuted, twice put in a mental hospital, put on trial, and sentenced to five years of hard labour (of which he served 18 months) for his “anti-Soviet” poetry. In 1972, he was forced into exile, and in 1987, he won the Nobel Prize for Literature.

Rutskoy, a false name Boris gives Aleksey and Eliisabet when deserting Bolshevik soldiers pay a housecall in autumn 1917. Aleksandr Vladimirovich Rutskoy (born 1947) was Russia’s only Vice President, 1991–93. During the violent constitutional crisis of ’93, he was proclaimed Acting President. He remains active in politics.

Andrey A. Voznesenskiy, 1933–2010, Kremlin.ru

Voznesenskaya, a deranged, sadistic orphanage warden in Petrograd, who gets her just desserts near the end of Part I of the first book. Andrey Andreyevich Voznesenskiy (whose surname means “ascension”) was an amazing poet I highly recommend.

To be continued.