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challenging
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
First of all, I want to say a huge thanks to Pamela Dorman Books and NetGalley for allowing me to read this ARC in exchange for my honest review!
The Name by Florence Knapp starts with a choice: what will Cora name her son? Gordon, after her violent, traditional husband? Julian, a name she chose herself but could potentially sway her husband to accept? Or perhaps Bear, the whimsical suggestion of her nine-year-old daughter? The narrative then dives into three different timelines, all trying to answer the question: does your name really dictate who you are?
I was immediately enthralled by this book. Right from the start, the writing was thoughtful, lyrical, almost poetic. This is especially welcome as we quickly learn the reality of Cora’s life: that she has to register her new son’s name, and that single choice could have catastrophic consequences for her or her children. In naming her son Bear, it is an act of defiance. Naming him Julian is an act of surrender, an attempt to placate a man who despises the very possibility of his wife’s independence. But naming the new baby Gordon, after his father, is in itself an act of violence: towards the child, towards her husband, towards Cora herself. She seems to condemn her relationship with her newborn to one of resentment, to stay safe in an unsafe marriage. But it is also an act of survival—a theme that remains prevalent throughout the rest of the book. How do you survive in the wake of learned, and potentially inherited, trauma?
The concept that naming someone essentially solidifies their personhood, and possibly their personality, rings so true, even if it’s not something we think about regularly. I love the exploration of how patronymic tradition, for example, can lay burdens on a child that they shouldn’t have to experience before they have a semblance of true cognition. Cora’s awareness of the nuance in her surroundings is so perfectly articulated. It’s heart-wrenching, knowing that her attention to detail stems from living on the edge with her violent husband. But it feels like an accurate portrayal of what it must be like to live in such a tenuous, volatile space. Seeing how Maia copes, even at a young age, to avoid her father’s anger is terrifying. Even though I haven’t experienced such a situation myself, it was difficult at times to read through Cora, Maia and the son’s experiences because it felt so visceral.
Despite the difficult subject matter, I truly loved reading this book. It’s a departure from my usual fantasy repertoire, and I’m so glad that I took it. Overall, it is a beautiful yet disquieting character study, with flowing prose that deftly navigates the reality of those living in a violent domestic environment, and how our choices can prove to define not just ourselves, but those around us.