What’s In a Name?
Do you know how your library got its name?
Perhaps it’s a straightforward geographical moniker: the neighborhood where the building stands, the municipality in whose budget it’s a line item, a nearby trail or transit stop. A place name has the virtue of underscoring the rootedness of our institutions, but its prevalence can get us into trouble. I quickly learned this lesson after several months of answering phones at the Watertown (Massachusetts) Free Public Library, when I realized I needed to ask, “Are you looking for the Watertown library in Connecticut, or New York?” The nuances found in the words accompanying a place name can help here. They range from “village” to “county,” from the quaint “community” to the sternly administrative “district,” and from the old-fashioned “social” to the enduring “free.”
Let’s pause for a moment on that “free.” Some might say it’s implied, even redundant, in the name of a public library, but we’ve all watched a patron’s eyes widen upon learning that “all this is free?!” We’ve all worried that advertising our “free” services will come back to bite us during elections or budget seasons, when the notion that money is in fact exchanged within our operations comes as a surprise to a referendum voter or legislator. We cling to “free” because it aligns with our values, as expressed in the ALA slogan “Free People Read Freely,” but it’s worth considering how the public interprets the term. Does it reinforce our mission, or does it create misunderstandings?
But perhaps your library is named for a person. If that’s the case, the namesake is likely to fall into one of three categories: a famous figure, with or without a local connection; a benefactor, or someone designated in tribute by a benefactor; or a legendary library character (beloved children’s librarian, long-serving branch manager, influential board member). These names are more likely than geographical ones to inspire passion or controversy. For example, it took a letter-writing campaign in the nation’s capital to convince the Board to name DC’s central library for Martin Luther King, Jr. in 1971. In 2019, naming a branch library after Billie Jean King, in Long Beach, CA sparked a bit of controversy. Meanwhile, the library renaming process is underway in Charlottesville, Denver, Toronto, and elsewhere. Some libraries are expressly forbidden from such reconsiderations. A representative case is the Dominy Library in Fairbury, IL, whose founding benefactor “requested the right to name the building and that the name never be changed.” Others are simply disinclined to make changes; their names are (often literally) set in stone, sealed with a mortar of goodwill and nostalgia. Yet, as society evolves, so too do the conversations around what and whom we choose to honor.
If we can’t rename our institutions, who can blame us if we let our love of language—our propensity for puns, our adoration of alliteration—run wild when we’re naming services or programs? For every book group with a name like “Tuesday Night Fiction,” there’s a “Page Turners” or a “Next Chapter.” In the subcategory of book groups that meet in bars, there are dozens of “Books on Tap,” with the occasional “Get Lit” sprinkled in. Romance book groups are enjoying a surge of popularity; their names range from tame (Meet Cute) to steamy (“Between the Covers”), much like romances themselves.
Creative names can be a foil for the staid monikers etched on our exteriors. They can capture attention and inspire loyalty. But they can also alienate or confound. Do the names of our programs and services make sense to people who speak languages other than English? (Shout-out to all the Cuentos y Canciones out there, and BiblioTech’s Libros & Libations.) Would someone who’d never been to the library understand them? Is the appeal of a neologism worth the effort of explaining, again and again, what it means?
So here’s another exercise: if, like me, you gravitate towards clever nomenclature, I challenge you to brainstorm names that seem utterly boring. Looking to rebrand your customized readers’ advisory service? Try “Book Recommendations for You” on for size. Even if you land back on BAM! or Rex, at least you will have stretched a different creative muscle, one that’s just as important in our field: perspective-taking.
Ultimately, whether etched in stone or playfully reinvented through programming, library names carry meaning—shaping public perception, reflecting community values, and reminding us that language, like libraries themselves, is always evolving.
