Florence Knapp: "The name we are given shapes our destiny more than we think."

BarcelonaCan a choice as simple as a name change our lives? That's the question British writer Florence Knapp poses in her literary debut: The names (Ediciones 62/Salamandra), translated into Catalan by Núria Parés Sellarès. The novel, already translated into 25 languages, tells the story of a mother, a victim of her husband's violence, who goes to the civil registry and hesitates about what to name her second son. From there, it presents three different lives depending on the chosen name.

Cora goes to the registry office accompanied by her daughter to register the birth of her second son. Her husband wants her to name him after him, Gordon, but she doesn't want that burden, because both Gordon and his father, who shares the same name, are authoritarian and violent. In the book, she develops three different stories based on three name options: Bear, Julian, and Gordon. Can our name define our lives so much?

— Names have always fascinated me. They're the first thing we're given in life, and we carry them with us always. They can influence how others see us through their associations, but they also shape our own perception. I'm interested in everything that makes us who we are. A name has the potential to be the root of everything, even if we're not fully aware of it.

The name clearly marks the destiny of the characters in the book.

— I'm very interested in the idea of different destinies unfolding. When I was six, my family moved to the other side of the world. We went to live in Australia. So, as a child, I had the feeling that there was an alternate version of my life still developing in a town in England, parallel to the life I was living in Australia. Although my books are fiction, it's inevitable that my obsessions will come through.

In Cora's case, fear is very present when deciding what to name her second child. She isn't entirely free because she's terrified of her husband's reaction, as he abuses her both physically and psychologically.

— In one version, Cora names her son Bear, the name suggested by Maia, her eldest daughter. She decides after a huge storm. Moments later, she panics. There's a line at the beginning of the book that says Cora's mother always said the wind excited children, even the quietest ones. And I think this also happens to Cora: her life was very structured, her decisions governed by fear. And that storm shakes everything up and makes her decide that morning to stray from the prescribed path. When you decide out of fear, you often don't choose for yourself, but to appease someone else. And I think this affects Cora's children: they live with a similar fear, even if in their case it's inherited. And this shapes Gordon's decisions for a long time, until he reaches adulthood and realizes he has autonomy and can decide from a different place.

Why the names Bear, Gordon, and Julian?

— With Bear, I wanted an expansive name, one that would allow the boy to be anything: sweet and kind, brave and strong, or even fierce. It was a name with room for him to grow. Gordon, on the other hand, is a traditional name in England, passed down from generation to generation, and it also allowed me to play with the idea of recognition. The name we're given shapes our destiny more than we realize. And with Julian, I envisioned someone who worked with jewelry. When I realized it also meant "father of heaven" [referring to Jupiter, the Roman god], it was magical: Cora could say it was a tribute to Gordon, but it actually placed him above all those terrible earthly fathers. All three names were there from the very beginning.

Domestic violence is very present, but so are different kinds of love.

— Yes, love makes everyone's life easier, more complete, and fuller, but that doesn't mean they're perfect families: they're imperfect, messy. In one version, Maia lives in Ireland with her grandmother and is much loved, but she isn't able to acknowledge that she's a lesbian until well into her thirties. Not because her grandmother wouldn't have accepted it, but because she herself can't, given everything that's happened to her.

How did you approach such a sensitive topic as domestic violence?

— Before writing the book, a woman who works at a women's shelter came to talk to us about her daily life. It was devastating. My way of processing things is by writing or reading. I understood intellectually why a woman doesn't leave when she's being abused, but emotionally it was harder for me. Writing Cora's story helped me understand it better. In the version where she stays with her husband, I kept thinking about the options she had and how she could leave. However, Gordon always put up another obstacle: he manipulated everything to make it seem like she was mentally unstable, he socially isolated her, controlled all the money, threatened her with the children... Fiction allows you to walk alongside someone and better understand these situations.

Even today, many women feel alone and without enough help.

— Yes, it's still difficult, but my perception is that things have changed a lot in recent years. Public and social awareness has changed above all. Society is much better prepared and much more understanding of abused women. What makes domestic violence so complicated is that abusers often have power over many things. There are the children. In my novel, the children aren't victims of their father's violence, but the idea of leaving them alone with him, without his presence or influence, terrifies Cora.

Gordon Sr. is always there, in some way, but we don't hear him. We don't know what he thinks. Why doesn't he want his voice to be heard?

— In cases of domestic violence, the voices of the victims are completely silenced. I wanted to take the power away from the abuser and give it to the family, so that it would be their story. Gordon Sr. is a character who is almost only sketched out, because I didn't want the reader to empathize with him either. In reality, we can understand Gordon Sr.'s motivations by looking at Gordon Jr., because, in a way, that whole generation of men named Gordon are like a set of Russian nesting dolls. The difference between father and son is that the father never does anything to change. That's why it seemed more appropriate to explore the character through his son.

Children, in all their variations, fear being predisposed to violence. Is violence inherited?

— His father's influence is very negative; both he and his grandfather are very toxic. Initially, it might seem that we are shaped by all these external factors and that we have no choice. But we do have a choice. Furthermore, it's perfectly normal to look at our parents and grandparents and wonder what we inherited from them.

There are examples of positive masculinity. Cyan is one example.

— I'm surrounded by absolutely wonderful men, and it seemed very important to me not to make them all the same. Gordon is awful, and that had to be balanced out with incredible men. Cian is inspired by Matthew fromAnne of Green GablesI'm in love.