The Names by Florence Knapp

This is one of those books that’s been on the periphery of my wishlist for ages, but I’ve never had time to pick it up. I always set aside a bit of money for visiting a book shop when we go on holiday so when we visited the Lake District this was the first book I saw when I walked into a bookshop in Pooley Bridge. Afterwards, as I looked through the purchases in the pub I read the first few lines, then read the whole chapter and I told my other half it was something special. In 1987 Cora is going to register the birth of her baby boy. His name has been settled on for some time. Cora’s husband has chosen his own name for his son, Gordon. But it wouldn’t be Cora’s choice. Cora’s choice would be something that doesn’t tie him so obviously to his father. She thinks Julian would suit him. Little sister Maia looks in the pram at her brother and decides he looks like a he should be called Bear. All of these options swirl around in Cora’s head. In this moment, Cora has the power to make a choice and it’s done. It can’t be changed. What would happen if she went with Julian or even Bear? In the short term Gordon would be furious. How bad would it be this time? Long term, would it change her baby’s character or path in life? That’s exactly what Florence Knapp does. The book splits into three narratives and we discover what happens to this whole family, depending on Cora’s baby boy’s name. 

We then move on seven years and meet Bear, a name that proves to be a catalyst for change. Or we meet Cora’s choice, Julian – the choice she hoped would break him free from domineering generations of Gordons. Although, what if he is called Gordon? Brought up by a cruel father to continue in the same mould perhaps? Or he might just break free from the shackles of his name. Each life is sparked by this one decision and it isn’t just Cora’s son’s story. This is the life of the whole family with all its ups and downs. It’s about how trauma shapes lives and whether love brings healing and hope to every version of who we are. Even her minor characters absolutely shine. Grandmother Silbhe and her friend Cian are so wonderful, modelling healthy male/female relationships for Julian and Maia. Cian is also Julian’s mentor at work, bringing out a creative side that needs nurturing. Julian needs to work with his hands and meeting fellow creatives helps him find his tribe. Lily is lovely character and we get to know her most during bear’s narrative. I loved how she has to find a balance between giving Bear the freedom he needs without breaking her own boundaries in the relationship. It’s an utterly compelling debut and zooms straight into the list of best books I’ve read so far this year. The author brings incredible psychological insight to a story about how our names shape our identity, our relationships and our life choices. Something we didn’t even choose. Can it influence us to a huge extent, or do we become the same person no matter what the choice? 

One of our family narratives is that mum wanted to call me Little Green after the Joni Mitchell song. Mum is definitely a hippy and Dad is definitely not. My whole life I’ve said ‘thank goodness for Dad’, as I ended up with Hayley Marsha Ann which felt unusual enough. However, when I read the lyrics of the Joni Mitchell song, it was just so beautiful. Written for a child she had when she was very young. She felt she was too young to be a mum and gave her up for adoption. The song is so full of the hopes a mother would have for their daughter: 

“Just a little Green

Like thе color when the spring is born

There’ll be crocuses to bring to school tomorrow

Just a little Green

Like the nights when the Northern lights perform

There’ll be icicles and birthday clothes

And sometimes there’ll be sorrow.”

The book made me wonder whether I’d be a different person now had I been Little Green. Would I have been more confident? Perhaps I’d have been more comfortable in my creativity. Might I have written my book by now? How could I have failed with a name imbued with such hope? I liked that the author included the meaning of all the character’s names at the back of the book. It’s fascinating to look at them after reading knowing they were so carefully chosen. 

Each of three arcs has its share of joy and heartache as Cora’s children cope with the aftermath of that day in 1987. For Gordon the legacy of his father is perhaps the most damaging as Cora feared. Growing up in his father’s presence means he could pass on the misogyny passed down through all the Gordons in his ancestry. It damages his relationship with his mother as he can be used as a tool for his father to oppress Cora further or to spy on her behaviour. It will also affect his own relationships with women, both his sister and potential partners – his teenage crush on Lily becomes something that’s very hard to read, but it’s right to include it. The author depicts inter-generational trauma and how it can damage the next generation in different ways. Abusers can’t always break patterns and sometimes I was compelled to read on in sheer hope. 

Each narrative has its moments of emotion where you have to look up from the book and breathe for a moment. Just to take it in. However, one narrative broke me. I was reading quietly in the same room as my husband and I actually responded out loud. He had to give me a cuddle because I did have tears coming and I’m astonished by the writer’s ability to absorb to that degree. To make words into a flesh and blood person I can shed tears over and another who has the potential to become a monster. Gordon Sr really is terrifying in his reach and I felt Cora’s constant fear and the way she made herself small, not taking up space or making him notice her. The author doesn’t forget Maia either and the effect this monster has had on her life, emphasised in a single moment of panic and horror. Yet would she have become a doctor without witnessing his competence as a doctor or his patient’s respect for his skills. Throughout her love for her brother shines through. This is an absolutely incredible debut with a brilliant grasp of domestic abuse and how it affects every member of a family, their friends and even neighbours. She depicts how the children and grandchildren in this chain have to consciously break the chain. As a daughter and a wife of two men who’ve survived violence in the home I know the struggle to change things and I felt the truth of Knapp’s depiction. It’s easily one of my best reads so far his year (what a year we’re having) and I have no doubt it will still be up there in December. 

Meet the Author

You can find out more about my writing, or what I’ve been reading lately, on the other pages. But for now, a few things about me.

I live just outside London with my husband, our dog, and sometimes one (or two) of our now-adult children. Some of my favourite things are: words, photo booths, old tiles, rain, long phone calls, clothing with pockets, book covers, dimples (I don’t have any of my own, but I covet the cheeks of those who do), houses lit up at night, the word eiderdown, notebooks, kaleidoscopes, homemade soup, Italy, taking photos, book chat, hummus, barre, house plants, a thick duvet with wool blankets piled on top, hand-stitching, making lists.

I’m less keen on condiment bottles, driving on motorways, and socks where the heel slips down.