Originally the concept of nominative determinism arose as a humorous feedback thread in New Scientist Magazine as readers observed how authors names reflected their research topics. Polar explorations by Daniel Snowman, a urology article by Splatt and Weedon.
This was a build from joke books of my youth. “The Tower of Pisa” by Eileen Over. “Legal Jurisprudence” by Argue and Phibbs. “Treating Tennis Injuries” by Savage, Racquet and Ball. There are lot of those: Funny books and authors
Erik the Red, who founded the Viking colony on Iceland wanted to keep the island for his own people. To dissuade other Norsemen from following he gave his colony an unattractive name. His son, Lief Eriksson, did the opposite in an attempt to encourage colonists to settle in his new discovery, Greenland.
Some people have begun to take nominative determinism more seriously. Some pointed to the fact that many names originated in the middle ages when people were named for their trade, and families stayed within a trade. Thatchers roofed houses. Wrights made wheels. Smiths beat metal. Fletchers made arrows. Is there a genetic disposition to excellence in a field of endeavour?
A family that has genetically poor eyesight will not survive long in the lacemaking trade. Do genetic traits in agility, intelligence, strength etc contribute to our aptitude for certain careers?
Then there is the environment. The child of a musician is raised in a world of music practice, has a learned knowledge of what harmonies work well, grows up playing with musical instruments. Learning to read music comes easier than learning to read language. Smiths know the techniques for tempering steel, learned over many generations and passed orally from Father to Son. Fletchers know how to make good glue. Dyers know the recipes for pigments that stain cloth but do not fade rapidly in sunlight. Tanners are used to the smell of piss and shit.
So in the modern world, when we are socially mobile, does our heritage still carry cues to our abilities. Is nominative determinism a real thing?
For me the funniest example of nominative determinism is given in Joseph Heller’s novel Catch 22. With a surname of Major a vindictive father stepped in when his wife was comatose after childbirth and named his son Major Major Major. The child is drafted into the US Air Force in WW2 as Private Major Major Major. It is only the work of a short time and standard military bureaucracy before the Private is promoted, by clerical error, and assigned as Major Major Major Major.
Miniver Cheevy; by Edwin Arlington Robinson
Miniver Cheevy, child of scorn,
Grew lean while he assailed the seasons;
He wept that he was ever born,
And he had reasons.
Miniver loved the days of old
When swords were bright and steeds were prancing;
The vision of a warrior bold
Would set him dancing.
Miniver sighed for what was not,
And dreamed, and rested from his labors;
He dreamed of Thebes and Camelot,
And Priam’s neighbors.
Miniver mourned the ripe renown
That made so many a name so fragrant;
He mourned Romance, now on the town,
And Art, a vagrant.
Miniver loved the Medici,
Albeit he had never seen one;
He would have sinned incessantly
Could he have been one.
Miniver cursed the commonplace
And eyed a khaki suit with loathing;
He missed the medieval grace
Of iron clothing.
Miniver scorned the gold he sought,
But sore annoyed was he without it;
Miniver thought, and thought, and thought,
And thought about it.
Miniver Cheevy, born too late,
Scratched his head and kept on thinking;
Miniver coughed, and called it fate,
And kept on drinking.