There’s a thread on LinkedIn regarding white privilege, white fragility, and the crucial importance of correct pronunciation of last names. I commented and got myself into some hot water because, apparently, stumbling over someone’s last name is considered a prime example of white privilege and white fragility. The original poster’s premise is that “difficult” last names are reserved for disadvantaged peoples and anyone with such a last name is automatically discriminated against.

I think that’s absolute bunk.

My response stated that I grew up with an ethnic last name that people butchered. I corrected their pronunciation. Some of those people continued to mispronounce it. I didn’t get offended or think they discriminated against me. I did learn to ask others whose names I wasn’t sure how to pronounce either how to pronounce it or to correct my attempt to pronounce it. After all, that’s just good manners.

Then I added a sentence that required I don asbestos underwear: I have no sympathy for people who seek out offense, then complain mightily when they find it.

Predictably, someone took offense at that. Apparently, that was overly defensive and constituted both white fragility and white privilege. Another person took it upon himself, using sweeping generalizations, to bring me to awareness that my pallid complexion gave me a false sense of superiority and entitlement. I attempted to respond in a civil manner, but lost the debate.

It happens. One can’t argue logic against emotion.

Another person with an African name commented on an exchange in which someone with whom he spoke–after he corrected her–expressed relief that his name wasn’t one of those long names. He immediately assumed she spoke of African names. I, being contrary, suggest that perhaps she wasn’t referring to an African name, but merely to any long surname that defies the old and inadequate advice to “sound it out.”

With alternate spellings abounding, figuring out someone’s name becomes even trickier. Comedian Alan King had practically an entire chapter devoted to that in his book Help! I’m a Prisoner in a Chinese Bakery! (FYI: I read the book back in the 1970s.) Comedian Mrs. Hughes has a bit in her routine that makes fun of the French inability to pronounce her last name: it comes out “huh.” She doesn’t get angry about it or find it offensive; it’s a source of humor.

Difficult names aren’t restricted to ethnic minorities. Look at the names of Welsh cities and towns. Under “Y,” we find Ystalyfera, Ystradgynlais, and Ystrad Mynach. I have no idea how to pronounce those. In England, the name/town/word “Leicester” is pronounced “lester.” You can’t sound that out either.

When my kids started school, the principal had a Czech last name. Looking at it (about 14 letters long), there was no way I would have known it was pronounced CHEZ-nee simply by seeing the spelling. Sounding it out was not an option. Receiving the first letter with her signature, I wondered just who that person was until I put 2 and 2 together.

The smattering of foreign language instruction I received makes me even more confused about pronunciation, because I can see a name and think of half a dozen ways to pronounce it, although I know that only one way is correct for that person. Therefore, I ask either how to pronounce the name or for that person to correct me if I mispronounce it. No harm, no foul: it’s simply good manners.

In fiction, savvy authors attempt to assign names to characters that suit the characters’ personalities, time periods, and nationality or location. Names become especially creative when aliens get involved, because then the sky’s the limit. A bit of common sense offers guidance to those names: don’t make them so weird as to thwart the majority of your readers from being able to figure out a pronunciation scheme. In a book by Rowanna Green, there’s a character whose first initial is R and his last name is Soul. The other characters combine them for a derogatory pronunciation of “arsehole,” although I didn’t catch on.

Sometimes I’m a little slow on the uptake.

​People forget that life isn’t fair. No one is guaranteed a life free of offense or hardship. That’s why adults teach children manners and why every society subscribes to a code of polite behavior. Civility helps us navigate the sea of interpersonal communication with a modicum of grace.

#henhousepublishing #hollybargobooks

The Diamond Gate By Holly Bargo 
nhttps://www.amazon.com/dp/B01E0V73T0 

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n nEvery night for two years, seven sisters—princesses all—walked beneath silver trees hung with jeweled fruit, crossed a still black lake, and danced to liquid music with their faerie suitors. Every night for two years, their shoes collapsed and kept the city’s cobblers busy. n nHis schemes for political and trade alliances thwarted by his daughters’ nightly disappearances, the royal duke of Nuygenie invited royalty and aristocrats from far and wide to solve the mystery and win the hand of a princess. They came and they failed. n nThen a common soldier, aged by war and years, thought to try his luck and improve his circumstances. A kindness to an old hag resulted in a magic cloak of invisibility and excellent advice that he put to good use to break the enchantment that held the princesses in thrall to their fey suitors. n nRejoicing, the duke elevated the soldier to serve as his general, so that the man might have rank befitting his royal bride. General Miles Carrow chose the eldest sister, Aurora, and wondered at the emptiness of their betrothal. n n

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nThe duke then cemented other political and trade alliances with the blood of his other children: Crown Prince Eric, Prince Ascendant Jonathan, Princesses Rose, Pearl, Celeste, Grace, Lily, and Hope. The two youngest princes, Roderick and Simon, were yet too young to be married off as benefited Nuygenie.
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nThe passage beneath was blocked and sealed with iron. The sisters did not discuss all they had lost. No one ever asked them if they had even wanted to be rescued.
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nThis is the story after the faerie tale.n

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Excerpt 

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n​Bide here. Lirón comes.
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n“Did you hear that?” they whispered among themselves and agreed that, yes, each of them heard that, but not with their ears.
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nThey all looked at the hippogriff, but only Aurora met its gaze. It despises us, she thought with surprise. A beast that despises us.
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nI find most humans contemptible as well as bad-tasting.
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nHer lips turned upward slightly at the corners. Touché, she thought, and caught the faintest glimmer of humor from the hippogriff.
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n“When will Lirón arrive?” she asked aloud, more as a courtesy to the others than for the hippogriff’s sake.
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nThe animal cocked its head, opened and shut its beak with a click, and then sneezed. It shook its head, sending a feather into the breeze, which twirled it in unseen fingers for the princess to catch. She held it to her lips and surreptitiously sniffed. The scent wasn’t sour like poultry, but fresh, clean, and somehow wild.
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nToss it into the wind should you have need of me, beloved of Lirón.
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n“Thank you,” she whispered.
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nThe hippogriff bowed its head, turned tail, galloped a few steps, and leaped into the wind.
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Hogtied by Holly Bargo 

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n nCowgirl meets biker … what could go wrong? n nWhen a biker shoots her sister’s prize steer, champion roper Melanie goes after him. Unfortunately, she doesn’t think it through, and that hot temper puts her squarely in Hammer’s sights. Melanie’s ire only increases when Hammer defuses the dangerous situation by claiming her as his property. If the former Marine and now sergeant-at-arms of the Black Ice Revolution MC thinks she’s his for the taking, he’s sadly mistaken. She wants nothing to do with him, but he’s not about to let this sexy, feisty woman go. n nThis romance contains some explicit scenes and a guaranteed HEA. May not be suitable for young readers.n n nBuy Today  nhttps://www.amazon.com/Hogtied-Holly-Bargo-ebook/dp/B0842DX7H3/ n n

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Review Snippet 

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n“I enjoyed this MC romance with an enemies-to-lovers theme. Though Melanie grates at your nerves at first, one can understand her anger and frustration at the situation she found herself in. Kyle is courageous, loyal, and kind. He put a lot on the line to save this girl and though it took her a while, she finally started appreciating him for who is.  There is a bit more to the story that I didn’t think was necessary, but I don’t want to give any spoilers.” 
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nRead more at 
n​https://eclecticreview.com/2020/03/09/hogtied-by-holly-bargo-hollybargobooks-silverdaggerbooktours-henhousepublishing1-giveaway-bookreview-romance-biker-cowgirl/
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Excerpt

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n​“No need. You all stay off my property,” the old man said. “I’m inclined to shoot every last one of you.”
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nHammer raised an eyebrow and his skepticism must have showed.
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n“Daddy was a sniper in the Gulf War,” Melanie explained with a saccharine smile. “And he taught Julie and me how to shoot, too. We can protect ourselves.”
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n​Hammer met her cool confidence with another small smile. “The three of you can’t protect the whole
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nfarm and your father knows it.”
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nHe turned around and walked to his motorcycle, his strides slow and sure. He’d be damned if he showed uneasiness in front of the old man and two girls. He’d faced worse in the Middle East and the Central and South American cesspits where drug cartels, terrorists, and revolutionaries were indistinguishable from one another.
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nMelanie watched the man’s slow swagger and admitted silently to herself that he filled out his jeans very, very nicely. She liked the breadth of his shoulders and the bulge of hard muscle beneath his tee shirt. Stick a sword in his hand and she’d cast him as Aragorn in a Lord of the Rings remake.
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n“He’s hot,” Julie whispered, echoing her sister’s thoughts.
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n“He’s trouble,” their father muttered.
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n“What do we do, Daddy?” Melanie asked as the man started his motorcycle and rode away.
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n“We wait.”n

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