[lg policy] A Swede by Any Other Name. In Fact, Many Swedes.

Tue Feb 1 15:36:26 UTC 2011

January 31, 2011

A Swede by Any Other Name. In Fact, Many Swedes.

By JOHN TAGLIABUE

These days, growing numbers of young Swedes about to marry are not
only choosing flatware patterns but also picking new names. Sometimes
it is an older family name; more often it is one they simply concoct.

Sofia Wetterlund, 29, was born Sofia Jönsson, and when she decided to
marry last year, she and her spouse-to-be, Karl Andersson, were simply
tired of their names. “We both thought Andersson and Jönsson were very
common,” she said. “Karl wanted something different, I wanted
something different. We just didn’t want to be taken for the others.”

The couple cast about in their families’ past and Ms. Wetterlund
discovered, well, Wetterlund, her grandmother’s maiden name. “We
thought it was pretty, and it was quite uncommon,” she said.
Additionally, “Wetterlund” was in danger of extinction, at least in
their family; only one relative still bore the name. So they asked
government officials for permission to be called Wetterlund, and
permission was granted.

In most cases, couples adopt a new name for the same reasons the
Wetterlunds did: to rebel against the hegemony of traditional Swedish
surnames ending in “-son” — Johansson, Andersson and Karlsson being
the most common. And it does not end there. Of the 100 most common
names here, 42 end in “-son.” Sweden abounds in names ending in “-son”
because of an old Nordic practice, before hereditary surnames were
introduced, of using the father’s first name, and the suffix “-son”
for a son, or “-dotter” for a daughter.

So Lars, the son of Karl, was named Lars Karlsson; a daughter Lisbet
became Lisbet Karlsdotter, though she would lose this at marriage.
(The practice still exists in Iceland.)

While some Swedes like Ms. Wetterlund rummage through family history
for a new name, others simply invent one. Some take names with a
Mediterranean flair, like Andriano and Bovino, said Eva Brylla, the
director of research at the Institute of Language and Folklore in
Uppsala. Others adopt English-sounding names, like Swedenrose or
Flowerland; others let their imaginations fly, simply using building
blocks common in Swedish names and fashioning tongue twisters like
Shirazimohager and Rowshanravan.

The government, which must approve all name changes, places certain
names off limits. Trademarks, like Coke, are out, as are obscenities.
Names of nobility, like Bernadotte, the family name of the Swedish
king, are not allowed, nor are names of celebrities. Obama is also off
limits, said Jan Ekengren, director of the Patent and Registration
Office, which oversees name changes. And Donadoni, the name of an
Italian soccer star, was rejected.

All of this strikes a familiar chord for Mr. Cervall, 44, a management
consultant, though the history of name changes in his family goes way
back. His paternal grandfather was Bertil Carlsson, and his brother,
Vallentin Carlsson. So in 1927 the brothers, wanting to shed the
“-son” and feeling inventive, took the first syllables of Bertil and
Vallentin to form the surname Bervall.

That did not sound quite right, so they replaced the B with a C to get
Cervall, then got permission to take it as their surname.

So Mr. Cervall and his children are all Cervalls. But his sister
married an Olsson, and her son, chafing under his surname, received
permission at age 18 to be called Cervall, too. “He wanted to be
different,” Mr. Cervall said.

Ms. Brylla of the Language and Folklore Institute, who is a consultant
to the Patent and Registration Office, said the practice of changing
names had been around for more than a century in Sweden as people
sought to escape their “-son” names. But in recent years, the trickle
of name changing became a flood. Partly, Ms. Brylla said, this was a
result of new legislation.

Under the old laws, only those with surnames ending in “-son” or
having embarrassing connotations could change their names. But a law
enacted in 1982 permits almost anyone to do so, for almost any reason.

“Since 1982, the number of name changes has increased each year,” Mr.
Ekengren, the patent office director, said. “The number has doubled
since 2002.”

Last year, there were 7,257 name changes, a slight drop from 2009, he
said, probably because of the economic crisis and a 20 percent
increase in the fee for a name change, which is now $270.

“The reason for most changes is you want to stand out, be individual,”
Mr. Ekengren said. “Olla Andersson meets Eric Svensson — they want to
start something together.”

That was pretty much the way it was a decade ago when Magnus Karlsson
met Anna Lindstedt, and decided to marry. “She did not want Karlsson,
and I didn’t want Lindstedt,” said the former Mr. Karlsson, who is now
Magnus Pantzar. “When I was born, 7 of 10 people had ‘-son’ names.”

The couple rummaged around their families’ histories and found the
name of Mr. Karlsson’s maternal grandmother, Pantzar. The marriage
ended in divorce after 11 months, but the name Pantzar stuck. “I kind
of liked the name,” said Mr. Pantzar, 43. “People know me as Pantzar.”

With his current partner, Mr. Pantzar has two daughters, who are also
Pantzars. Older family members remark how he resembles
Great-Grandfather Pantzar. “They say it’s good you took that name
Pantzar,” he said.

Still, like some Swedes, he sees a possible downside. One of his
brothers took the name Winberg, while the other, Thomas, kept the
family name, Karlsson, so the three brothers have three different
names. “Thomas will sometimes wink at my father and say, ‘I’m the son
that kept your name,’ ” Mr. Pantzar said.

But he added: “In this age of globalization, we need to stick with our
traditions. In that, it’s nice to have Swedish names.”

Others share no such qualms. Viggo Johansen, 44, an asset manager, has
kept his name but has no objections to the name-changing practice. “If
you want to create something new, why not?” he said. “I hope we have
more culture and history to rely on than just our names.”

Indeed, support for Swedish names is coming from an unexpected
quarter. In recent decades, successive waves of immigrants have been
coming to Sweden, and many avail themselves of the laws and take
Swedish-sounding names to hasten their integration.

Mr. Ekengren recalled a case a few years ago in which an immigrant
family requested permission to be called Mohammedsson.

“Permission was granted,” he said.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/01/world/europe/01stockholm.html?_r=1&ref=world

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 Harold F. Schiffman

Professor Emeritus of
 Dravidian Linguistics and Culture
Dept. of South Asia Studies
University of Pennsylvania
Philadelphia, PA 19104-6305

Phone:  (215) 898-7475
Fax:  (215) 573-2138

Email:  haroldfs at gmail.com
http://ccat.sas.upenn.edu/~haroldfs/

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