What's in a Name?: Friendship, Identity and History in Modern Multicultural Britain: A New Statesman Book of the Year

by Sheela Banerjee

A NEW STATESMAN BOOK OF THE YEAR'A brilliantly enlightening book . . . at times moving, at others ironic, full of insights and detail'Michael Rosen'A kaleidoscopic portrait of the UK . . . with insight and compassion'Irish TimesOur names are so mundane that we barely notice them. Yet each contains countless stories of tradition and belonging - be that a legacy of colonialism or persecution, the desire to fit in, or the complex cultural inheritance from one's parents. In What's in a Name?, Sheela Banerjee unravels the personal histories of friends and family through their names. And while tracing their heritage across centuries and continents - from west London to British India, and from 1960s Jamaica to pre-Revolutionary Russia - Sheela also tells the story of twentieth-century immigration to the UK. Blending history, memoir and politics, What's in a Name? is a celebration of Britain's rich multiculturalism, an ode to friendship and a testament to all the stories held within our names.'Absolutely fascinating . . . the stories woven into this superb book will stay with me for a long time. I cannot recommend it highly enough'Priscilla Morris, author of Black Butterflies'A compelling combination of personal stories and social histories, told with great heart, wit and detail'Preeti Dhillon, author of The Shoulders We Stand On

Genres: Nonfiction

313 pages, Kindle Edition

Published August 3, 2023

Reviews

[Krishna Srinivasan · Rating 5 out of 5]

In lieu of a traditional review, I instead display here a message I wrote to the author, Sheela Banerjee, on Instagram:

Dear Sheela,

I wanted to contact you personally to say how much I enjoyed and valued 'What's in a Name?'. I found it displayed at the ICA (where I regularly attend film screenings) & it caught my attention immediately.

I feel that to highlight some similarities in our names would not only be appropriate but would also honour the book in some way. So here goes:

My full name is Krishna Srinivasan (similar to the famous mathematician, Srinivasan Ramanujan, who my cousin is named after). My surname is an alternate name for Vishnu, and is moreover, a direct alternative of your father’s name, Balaji. Incidentally this is my uncle’s (father’s elder brother) name. We have plenty of Balaji’s & Srinivasan’s in our family; they are both very popular names amongst south Indian Vaishnavite Brahmin families.

This also led me to suspect that the Balaji Mandir in the South your grandfather trained at might have been Tirupati, in Andhra Pradesh? If so, this would bring another huge and treasured connection, for this temple is where I had my head shaved at ages 1 & 2, and holds a deep religious and cultural significance for my family & ancestors.

Tamil Nadu is the state where I am from, and in the past century, due to anti-caste movements, the India-wide practice of using one’s caste name as one’s surname is virtually vanquished. Instead, we use our father’s first name as our surname, and wives, upon marriage, take their husband’s first name as their surname.

This means, however, that Srinivasan is not, in a sense, my ‘traditional’ or ‘actual’ surname, which would actually be ‘Iyengar’ (the Tamil Brahmin caste that primarily worships Vishnu and follows the semi-dual Vishishtadvaita philosophy of Ramanuja; as opposed to the other TamBrahm caste, the Iyers, that worship a multitude of gods and follows the non-dual Advaita philosophy of Adi Sankara).

I have often wondered why other Indian states didn’t follow suit and ‘de-cast’ their surnames, especially in progressive Communist states such as Kerala and West Bengal? (Iconic Kerala CM EMS Namboodiripad retained his highest ranking surname; as did Jyoti Basu). If they had, perhaps Bengali naming tradition would mirrors that of the Tamils, and your name would in fact be Sheela Balaji (and your father’s Balaji Ramchandra!) and your slight distaste for Banerjee, as opposed to Bandyopadhyay, would not be a thing!

Moreover, perhaps your awareness of your Brahmin heritage (which it appears your parents - your father especially - were not keen on maintaining) would be far lesser. I certainly would not have known of mine if not for my parents being so enthusiastic about it (for example: my sacred thread ceremony occurred at the age of 9, in Chennai).

The struggle you guys went through paved the way for my generation’s ease & comfort. This has, truly unfortunately, decreased in recent years and for the first time ever, I - as are many others - am terrified for the future of Britain and its multiculturalism. Just last month, in my hometown, I was told to ‘Get out of the way foreigner,’ only the second racist incident of my life in Britain. The first was exactly ten years ago during Halloween 2015 when, thirsty after trick or treating, I walked into my local pub with a fellow Tamil friend for a glass of water, and was called a ‘Paki’ by a drunk punter.

Of course, these two incidents are nothing compared to what you guys went through; yet I hope you don’t find crass or unjustified my saying that the sting is still just as potent.

I’d like to finish off with a couple of things:

- I, like you, also love being asked ‘Where are you from?’ or the more politically correct, ‘What’s your heritage?’ I’ve never had it asked in a mean or intrusive way and always it has been reason for delightful conversation and learning.

- I find it quite amusing (& somewhat ironic?) that another book I read recently (Jhumpa Lahiri’s The Namesake) by a famous Western Bengali was so focused on names and the real impact they have on one’s destiny!

Finally, I also work in TV & also hope to make documentaries as a self shooting PD. Despite many efforts to step up, I’m still a runner. The last chapter in which you highlight your experiences in our industry really hit hard. They felt brutal and I came away from them feeling sad, yet I connected with it greatly…

So, for your book, and for provoking me to think about all the above - and so much more - thank you so so much,

Best,
Krish x

[Hannah · Rating 5 out of 5]

I thought this was brilliant. Each story is compelling and movingly written, and manages to be both personal to the individual it’s talking about and incredibly informative about the wider historical, social, political and linguistic context of how and why names are chosen, changed, and sometimes lost.

I imagine it may also feel rather personal to readers who recognise anything of their own background and identity in the stories shared—one chapter that echoed what I know about my own family history particularly struck a chord with me.

I read this as an audiobook and would recommend it that way.

[Marysia Suchcitz · Rating 3 out of 5]

*3.5 stars

[Resham reads · Rating 5 out of 5]

I found this profoundly educational and deeply moving

[Gayatri Nautiyal · Rating 2 out of 5]

A really interesting and unique way to streamline the subtleties of racism and structural barriers that one encounters as an immigrant by analysing the power of names. The author articulates very well how the connotations names carry affect lived experiences. Her angst and struggle with her identity growing up is admirably theorised sociologically and historically. A very interesting concept for a book. I found this book, especially Sheela's memoirs in it, extremely heartfelt.

However, while I recognise the value of streamlining lived experiences and commend the author's analysis of the mundane -something that is often turned a blind eye too when discussing challenges to social cohesion - I couldn't help but questioning whether her incessant self-pity needed to be streamlined as much as it was. It became a bit unbearable for me at points.

The author acknowledges and rightfully addresses her positionality as an upper-caste Hindu coming from generational wealth. While there is an explicit awareness of her stance, I felt as though her narrative and perception of her own life was devoid of this awareness when she is somewhat weaponising her victimhood? I hear and relate to the author's hardships but I differ in her from intellectualising her hardships to claim her identity through victimhood.

I felt confused as to how I felt while reading this book. I took a while with it and at certain points I admired her articulation and certitude but at other points I felt frustrated, wondering if its right for her to be claiming victimhood. But perhaps I am wrong for being dismissive of her struggles and I am being reductive in delineating her lived experience to her historical/socio-economic background and identity as a Brahmin. She does have the right to share how she has been wronged, yes. And it is necessary. My point is that it is worth questioning the pattern in who it is who can claim being wronged; because there is power, and privilege, in the streamlining of stories. I wonder if there was another way of going about this while not risking it to become an oppression olympics of who can speak and who can not.

[Rai · Rating 3 out of 5]

(3.5*) The concept explored in this book is really interesting, it shows how our names can have such deep and complex histories attached to them. Both the linguistic and socio-political aspects were developed well, particularly with the author’s own name. It is slightly repetitive in places, the conclusions and wider reflections in each chapter all end up saying the same thing, but I enjoyed discovering each person’s story and how the author traced each journey.

[Maggie Thornley · Rating 4 out of 5]

The book has a unique and interesting concept. Sheela has written about the background and history of her name, including her life experiences, particularly about race and racism. She also delves into the lives of her friends, exploring their names and heritage.