Who Knew . . . ? Or It's a Very Small, Very Strange World
I had an email this morning from a woman asking how I happened to pick the surname Antonides for Elias, the hero of my current release, The Antonides Marriage Deal.
It was, I explained, a matter of serendipity and Google. I had thought perhaps his last name was Aristides. But then I googled the name and found way more references to the deposed Haitian dictator than I wanted (minus the final S) and decided, um, maybe not. But I wanted a name that began with A, and I wanted it to end in -ides for auditory reasons I can't begin to explain. And so I decided on Antonides. A good Greek name.
Except, she informs me, most of the Antonideses in the US are Dutch.
Dutch? Well, Frisian, actually. Or Friesian, if you prefer the alternate spelling.
You could have knocked me -- and Elias -- right over. Dutch?
She wasn't kidding. It seems that a few hundred years ago some learned Dutch/Frisian pastors (or seminarians at least) took Greek surnames. To impress their congregations? Because they knew women fantasized about Greek tycoons? Because Greek surnames were harder to pronounce? With ancestries cluttered with Freylinghuysens, Claesens, Danckaerts, Kruycks, and Couwenhouvens it's hard to imagine they needed the extra challenge. But who knows?
So, anyway, Elias could be Dutch.
He's not. He's Greek, with a capital G. But he could be. Just don't tell my editor that. Not yet. If sales suck I guess we can say, "Well, Dutch tycoons must not sell." But otherwise, it's just between us.
The "very small world" part of this email conversation developed our Dutch connection. It turns out her Dutch Antonideses knew my husband's Dutch Unpronounceables 300 odd years ago. They all hung around Brooklyn (well, Flatbush) together. Weird.
But weird as it is, I had it happen once before. Not the Dutch tycoon stuff, but the coincidental last name stuff. Back in 1993 Anne Stuart, Judith Arnold, Linda Randall Wisdom and I each did a short story in a Harlequin Valentine's Day anthology. Mine was the story of a second grade teacher called Jane Kitto who, on Valentine's Day every year, received a charm from a 'secret admirer.' I had a lot of fun writing it. That was a reward in itself.
But an even greater reward was a letter I received one day from a retired minister whose surname was Kitto. His daughter had given him the book. He was delighted with it. Did I know any Kittos? he asked. I grew up with one, I told him, though I hadn't seen him in years. But that boy's family was Cornish and so was my grandmother's -- and so was the minister's. My story, about the steadfastness of love and the joy of having someone really know your heart, along with our shared history gave us all we needed to begin a correspondence that lasted until his death. Three years ago I followed a Cornish line of ancestors back into the late 18th century -- and there, it seems, I found my very own Kitto. I know my friend would be pleased.
Writers are often solitary people -- but they touch the world and the world touches them in varied and amazing ways. We are privileged to make these connections. To learn. To enjoy. To explore. Life is an adventure. Every day brings new astonishments -- things you'd never expect.
So, I ask you, in a world in which Elias Antonides could be Frisian, why shouldn't Hugh call?
It was, I explained, a matter of serendipity and Google. I had thought perhaps his last name was Aristides. But then I googled the name and found way more references to the deposed Haitian dictator than I wanted (minus the final S) and decided, um, maybe not. But I wanted a name that began with A, and I wanted it to end in -ides for auditory reasons I can't begin to explain. And so I decided on Antonides. A good Greek name.
Except, she informs me, most of the Antonideses in the US are Dutch.
Dutch? Well, Frisian, actually. Or Friesian, if you prefer the alternate spelling.
You could have knocked me -- and Elias -- right over. Dutch?
She wasn't kidding. It seems that a few hundred years ago some learned Dutch/Frisian pastors (or seminarians at least) took Greek surnames. To impress their congregations? Because they knew women fantasized about Greek tycoons? Because Greek surnames were harder to pronounce? With ancestries cluttered with Freylinghuysens, Claesens, Danckaerts, Kruycks, and Couwenhouvens it's hard to imagine they needed the extra challenge. But who knows?
So, anyway, Elias could be Dutch.
He's not. He's Greek, with a capital G. But he could be. Just don't tell my editor that. Not yet. If sales suck I guess we can say, "Well, Dutch tycoons must not sell." But otherwise, it's just between us.
The "very small world" part of this email conversation developed our Dutch connection. It turns out her Dutch Antonideses knew my husband's Dutch Unpronounceables 300 odd years ago. They all hung around Brooklyn (well, Flatbush) together. Weird.
But weird as it is, I had it happen once before. Not the Dutch tycoon stuff, but the coincidental last name stuff. Back in 1993 Anne Stuart, Judith Arnold, Linda Randall Wisdom and I each did a short story in a Harlequin Valentine's Day anthology. Mine was the story of a second grade teacher called Jane Kitto who, on Valentine's Day every year, received a charm from a 'secret admirer.' I had a lot of fun writing it. That was a reward in itself.
But an even greater reward was a letter I received one day from a retired minister whose surname was Kitto. His daughter had given him the book. He was delighted with it. Did I know any Kittos? he asked. I grew up with one, I told him, though I hadn't seen him in years. But that boy's family was Cornish and so was my grandmother's -- and so was the minister's. My story, about the steadfastness of love and the joy of having someone really know your heart, along with our shared history gave us all we needed to begin a correspondence that lasted until his death. Three years ago I followed a Cornish line of ancestors back into the late 18th century -- and there, it seems, I found my very own Kitto. I know my friend would be pleased.
Writers are often solitary people -- but they touch the world and the world touches them in varied and amazing ways. We are privileged to make these connections. To learn. To enjoy. To explore. Life is an adventure. Every day brings new astonishments -- things you'd never expect.
So, I ask you, in a world in which Elias Antonides could be Frisian, why shouldn't Hugh call?
posted by Anne McAllister at 11:33 PM
4 Comments:
speaking of names... one of my first books, the forever man, featured a character named wade malone. i didn't realize there was a guy who lived a few miles from me with the same name. he got a real kick out of the whole thing and started calling himself the forever man. he died about a year ago so i guess he wasn't really the forever man.
Well, I suppose he could be -- just not in the same plane of existence that we're working in at the moment!
Your dedication mentions "Aunt Billie". Please tell us about her as she was important for you to dedicate this incredible book to, by the way, the book is lovely!
Marilyn
Thanks, Marilyn. I'm so glad you're enjoying it. I will write about Aunt Billie in the next few days. Actually I could write about Aunt Billie for months. There's a lot to say about a truly amazing woman! Thank you for asking.
Anne
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