So not only did SJP and Matthew Broderick have twins, they’ve generated double the press with their name choices.

First came the announcement that the girls were named Marion Loretta Elwell and Tabitha Hodge.  Which was followed by chatter about how Marion and Tabitha were mismatched, and wasn’t it unfair that poor Tabitha had just two given names?

Now we learn that  SJP and Matthew Broderick call their girls Loretta and Tabitha - and that firstborn James Wilkie was responsible for choosing the name Marion.  And he was wily enough to insist that it be legal, which is why the parents put Marion first, rather than tucking her in the middle.  (Weigh in on Yea or Nay: Loretta here.  So far, opinion is split pretty evenly.)

When I asked Aly what he wanted to name his pterodactyl (no, not a real one.  This isn’t Torchwood), he told me December.  Which I find strangely appealing.  Nonetheless, I’m glad we didn’t let him (seriously) weigh in on his sister’s name.

In other starbaby news:

• Jane Carrey has announced that her dad, funnyman Jim Carrey is about to be a grandpa. Apparently, Jane and boyfriend Alex Santana have already settled on the name Jackson Riley;
• Alicia Minshew of All My Children welcomed a daughter, Willow Lenora;
• Layla Kayleigh, host of America’s Best Dance Crew, and Steve Corvino, of Sirius Radio, announced the birth of a daughter, Melody Rain;
• Model Karolina Kurkova is new mom to son Tobin Jack;
• Footballer Wayne Rooney and wife Colleen are the parents of a son, Kai Wayne;
• And, of course, Mel Gibson is a father for the EIGHTH time.  He and girlfriend welcomed daughter Lucia.  Mel’s first seven kids are Hannah, Edward, Christian, William, Louis, Milo and Thomas.

Elsewhere online:

• I love the Nymbler stats!  October’s Top Ten is as follows: Charlotte, Ava, Amelia, Benjamin, Ella, Grace, Jack, Finn, Oliver and Abigail.  And the Top Five brand new names?  It’s quite the celeb-driven list: Sparrow, Anniston, Huckleberry, October and Pixie;
• Remind me to take Nancy along the next time I’m facing a long drive somewhere.  She’s traveling the highways and by-ways of Mississippi while reading the phone book to spot unusual real names!  Her lists are fascinating – check out the sixth in the series here, and follow the links back.  You just know there are stories behind names like Jaston, Tavarius and Hacksaw.  Plus she’s discovered several people with the name Toxie;
• Wladimir Lyra of the Max Planck Institute for Astronomy in Heidelberg is pushing to give names to the known exoplanets.  (Hat tip to Language Log.)  Scientists are discovering planets outside of the solar system at a gallop – they’re at 400 and counting.  The sage fonts of wisdom at the International Astronomical Union feel that it would be impractical to name them all.  Instead, they assign strings of numbers and letters.  Too bad – I know we could all put our heads together and name 400 planets in no time – Jaston, Tavarius and Hacksaw are all available;
• Over at For Real Baby Names, there’s mention of a British Minne Jane Snoo.  Please, please, please let Snoo be a family name and not a clever twist on Boo.  In happier news, her list also includes a Hero Charlotte Moranna and a Flora Isabella Minette;
• While I’m spotting trends that trouble me, Bewildertrix brings us Xzavia Paul William.  But there’s also a Serena Alice Louisa, little sister to Verity.  And I’ve seen Verity in a few other BAs recently;
• Lastly, check out Elisabeth’s post on Country baby names over at You Can’t Call It “It”.  While not all of these conjure up haystacks and John Deere for me, maybe that’s because I’m already hearing them on kids inside the DC Beltway – Clio has classmates called Mabel and Ida, and I know fashion-forward urbaniste parents with offspring answering to Polly, Earl and Roscoe;
• A year ago, I wrote about Matilda and Luke.

That’s all for this week – as always, thanks for reading.

David is an evergreen classic for boys.  But what’s the feminine equivalent?

Thanks to Photoquilty for suggesting Dava as Name of the Day.

If you live in the US, you know someone named David.  Probably lots of someones.  The name has always been in the US Top 30, ranked #1, #2 or #3 in the 1960s and today stands at #14.  Besides John, James, Joseph and William, very few names can boast a more impressive record of use.

And why not?  David is a great name.  He’s the legendary Old Testament King who took down Goliath, and has been worn by saints, philosophers, explorers, literary characters and more ever since.  His meaning – beloved, from the Hebrew dwd – is appealing, too.

But David hasn’t translated easily into a feminine equivalent.  Dava appears in the census records pretty steadily, without ever peaking into the US Top 1000.  And yet, many of those records indicate that Dava might actually be Dara.  (In a handwritten ledger, it would be an easy mistake.)  Others appear to be male.  But some are clearly women named Dava, including the lucky Ms. Dava Davis of Mahoning, Ohio, as of the 1920 census.

There are two possible pronunciations – Ava with a “d” in front, or DAH vah, which is the pronunciation used by a tiny town in Scotland.

If we turn to famous Davas, two come to mind.

First, there’s DC Comic’s Dava Sbörsc, a martial artist from the fictional nation of Tbliska.  She and Robin – of Batman and Robin fame – palled around while studying with the Iron Master.  While her storyline is interesting, she’s certainly not well-known.  Given the continued mining of the Batman universe for the big screen, the possibility remains that Dava’s story could become better known.

But the Dava that sprung to mind for me is Dava Sobel, the writer.  She’s best known for explaining scientific concepts and history, like in her prize-winning 1995 Longitude or 2000’s Galileo’s Daughter.  The first was adapted for television by A&E – an unusual accomplishment for a nonfiction work about science!  (She rhymes her name with Ava.)

Of course, Dava is far from the only possible feminine form for David, and she’s never appeared in the US Top 1000.  The more widely accepted version is probably Davina, a name that appeared in the US Top 1000 a few times in the 1960s, 70s and 80s and is said to have originated in Scotland.  Today, Davina (pronounced dah VEEN nah) would fit right in with Olivia and Alexandra.

Inevitably, you can also find girls called Davida, Davinia, Davena, Davette, Davidette, Davianne and Daveigh.  But Dava and Davina seem like the most sophsticated options.  Parents might reserve Dava as a diminutive for the longer name, or bestow it independently.

Of course, with Ava in the US Top Ten, your little Dava might tire of repeating “it-sounds-like-Ava-with-a-D.”  Or she might find that sharing sounds with a popular name makes for the perfect choice – familiar, but still slightly distinctive.

Remember when SJP and Matthew Broderick named their twins Marion and Tabitha and name fans everywhere went huh?  Plus, Marion had two middles (Loretta Elwell) and Tabitha just one (Hodge)?

Turns out that there’s an explanation: Marion was chosen by big brother James Wilkie.  The girls are called Tabitha and Loretta.

As it happens, my aunt was very nearly named Loretta – or so says family legend.

And so I just have to ask: Loretta, Yea or Nay?

Today’s choice is a fashion-forward import that could catch on.

Thanks to Rachel for suggesting Stellan as Name of the Day.

Stellan sounds like the masculine counterpart to Stella, but that’s not so.  While Stella comes from the Latin for star, Stellan is Scandinavian.  His exact origins are uncertain – some link him to the Norse stilling, for peaceful.  Other sites insist that he means star, too.

A Swedish website suggests that Stellan is actually German in origin.  That fits with the evolution of our word still, meaning “at rest,” which traces back to the Old High German stillen.  But nearly all of the notable bearers have been Swedes, including:

• Stellan Mörner, an early 20th century surrealist painter;
• Stellan Skarsgård, the actor seen in movies from Good Will Hunting to Angels & Demons to Mamma Mia.

The list gets more obscure from there.  There’s a World Table Tennis champ from the 1970s, Stellan Bengtsson, plus a current international chess champion, Stellan Brynell.  There was also a Danish film director, Stellan Rye, who died during World War I.

With an uncertain meaning and a lack of famous bearers – at least in the US – it is possible that Stellan could remain obscure forevermore.

Or not.  Actors Jennifer Connelly and Paul Bettany named their son Stellan after Mr. Skarsgård back in 2003.  And consider these sound-alikes:

• Rhyming Kellen comes in at #444;
• Other -l in the middle, ends-in-n choices include Dylan (#51), Colin (#114) and Collin (#143) plus Nolan (#131);
• Sharing that same construction and a modern, 21st century vibe, the US Top 200 also includes Jaylen (#184) and Rylan (#217).

Factor in popularity of girls’ names Stella and Ella, and it is easy to imagine parents embracing this masculine moniker.

But that hasn’t happened yet.  Stellan has never appeared in the US Top 1000, and he’s not terribly common in Sweden, either.  (At least he’s not in their Top 100.)

Some might like the idea of Stellan as a Swedish heritage choice, but that feels like a stretch.  It’s probably more accurate to group Stellan with that cluster of names that have some slight history, but are almost considered modern inventions.  Stellan fits right in with choices like Kai – the name of Jennifer Connelly’s firstborn – or Chase.

So if you’re seeking a boys’ name that feels more authentic than a smoosh of popular elements (like Rylan, Kyler or the -adens) but still appears novel and relatively untethered to religion or a specific heritage, Stellan might work for you.

Her roots are ancient, but her sound remains edgy – even in 2009.

Thanks to Kelly for suggesting Veronica as Name of the Day.

A Top 100 choice from 1898 into the 1930s, today Bernice sounds dowdy and dated.  And yet, she and Veronica share roots.

More than 300 years BC, Egyptian royals wore the name Berenike or Pherenike, derived from pherein – to bring and nike - which meant victory centuries before it meant sneaker.  At least five queens answered to the appellation, as did other notables into the early Christian era.

This brings us to the saint.  As Jesus struggled under the weight of his cross, a pious woman lent him her veil.  He wiped the sweat from his brow and returned the fabric – miraculously imprinting his image in the process.

Or so the legend of Veronica’s Veil tells us – it isn’t found in the Bible.  The woman may’ve been real, and her name may’ve been Berenice.   But the Latin phrase vera icon means true image.  So either Berenice was altered to fit the phrase, or a misunderstanding transformed the Latin phrase into the woman’s name.

There’s also the possibility that Veronica is a place name for a woman from the city of Verona.  (Some say that the veil was once kept at Verona.)

A second Saint Veronica lived in Northern Italy in the early 1700s, but she was actually born Ursula.  A very different Veronica lived in Venice in the 1500s – Veronica Franco was a prominent courtesan and poet.

Veronica had a good run in the 20th century.  In 1900, she charted at #213.  In 1950, she ranked #194.  Last year she was #261.  In the late 1970s and early 80s, she reached as high as #68 more than once.

The name conjures up:

• Veronica Lake, she of the peek-a-boo ‘do and film noir fame.  Born Constance Ockelman, she was booted from Catholic school – a Paramount producer chose the saintly appellation.  Lake was huge in the 1940s, and while she died destitute, her image lives on – think Jessica Rabbit and Kim Basinger’s character in LA Confidential, for starters;
• Veronica Lodge, of the Archie comics, was apparently named after Lake and a wealthy Boston family;
• Veronica Mars was a latter-day Nancy Drew on the small screen in recent years;
• Elvis Costello’s 1989 memorable single was about an aging “Veronica”;
• In 1989 Winona Ryder played Veronica Sawyer in the enduring black comedy Heathers, about the perils of popularity in high school.

You’ll also come across Veronica in bullfighting terminology (it’s a pass made by the matador) and botany (it is a type of flowering plant sometimes called speedwell.)

With Ava and Olivia in the US Top Ten, and Victoria, Nevaeh and Avery not far behind, Veronica’s v sounds current – and yet she’s got plenty of history.  She’s a saint and a pin-up, a queen and a teen.  Best of all, she offers up plenty of nicknames, from Vera to Nica to Ronnie to Vee.

If you love Alexandra but fear she’s too popular, perhaps Veronica would make the perfect substitute.  Despite steady use, there’s still something unexpected about her.

Lucas is classic.  Luke is cowboy cool.  Today’s choice offers a slightly more sophisticated spin on those popular picks.

Thanks to Kelly for suggesting Lucian as Name of the Day.

A baby book might tell you that Lucas derives from the Latin lux – light.  Not so.  The Greek Loukas was used to describe someone from Lucania, a moutainous district of Italy settled way back in the 5th century BC.  The Lucani may have taken their name from their word for wolf – or not.

Flip to Lucius, Lucianus and Lucian and the Latin reference is correct.  Lucius was a Roman given name related to lux.  Plenty of ancient notables answered to Lucius, and over time the family name Lucianus developed.  Lop off the -us, and you get the English Lucian.

Through the ages, the name has been worn by a few noteworthy men:

• Back in the second century, Lucian of Samosata wrote in Greek.  What’s particularly interesting is that he wrote novels – even early science fiction – at a moment when most writers were busy with history and philosophy.  He also penned an early version of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice, minus, of course, Mickey Mouse;
• Born in Samosata less than a century later, St. Lucian of Antioch was martyred;
• Martyred around the same time, St. Lucian of Beauvais is sometimes listed even earlier in history, but that’s probably because of politics rather than fact.

The last Lucian is also listed as Lucien, and that’s the French spelling today.  While the two names are equivalent, you’d probably  hear Lucian given a two-syllable pronunication – LOO shan – while Lucien is usually three syllables – LOO see en.

Of course, either spelling is relatively rare.  Lucian ranked in the US Top 1000 into the 1950s, but was never common.  After many years off the charts, he now stands at #811.  Lucien kept company with Lucian into the 50s, but has yet to reappear.

French history gives us Lucien Bonaparte, baby brother to Napoleon.  Alexandre Dumas used the name for one of his many characters in The Count of Monte Cristo.  In the twentieth century, a British painter, American Army General from World War II and a Romanian poet have worn the name.

But if Lucian is back in the public eye, it has little to do with princes or poets, and more to do with werewolves.

2003’s Underworld kicked off a successful film franchise about the war between vampires and werewolves.  The second movie debuted in 2006.  In 2009, Underworld: Rise of the Lycans filled in more history.  A fourth movie – and possibly two more – are said to be in the works.  Lucian is a werewolf, and a bad guy of sorts.  We eventually learn that Lucian once played Romeo to a vampiric Juliet, with a tragic outcome worthy of Shakespeare himself.

Lucian would fit right in with Elijah, Julian and Sebastian – all Top 100 picks that might’ve been dismissed as too soft just a few decades back.  And yet he’d stand out, too.  With the nickname option of Luc or Luke waiting in the wings, Lucian could wear well on an athlete or an artist.  It’s a versatile, underused choice that stays on the right side of unusual.

On the heels of Halloween, here’s a haunting choice – and a current one, too.

Thanks to Liz for suggesting Annabel as Name of the Day.

If you’ve been here before, you might blink at Annabel.  My rule of thumb is to use most common variant of the name as the post’s title – so the Name of the Day should be Annabelle.  Ranked #188 in the US as of 2008, Annabelle is quite current, while Annabel remains relatively obscure, at #801.

But pumpkins are still on my doorstep, so I’m opting to use the spare, tragic Annabel of Edgar Allen Poe’s 1849 poem Annabel Lee.  Like many of his dark and gloomy works, Poe’s lament concerned a beautiful maiden who died too young.  A more cheerful Annabel was imagined by L. Frank Baum a few years later, in 1906, though he published the novel under a pseudonym.

From the late nineteenth century right into the 1930s, Annabel was in use.  She peaked at #467 in 1880, suggesting that her best years were behind her.  Annabelle made it as high as #254 in 1924, but she, too, fell out of use by 1950.  Frilly valentines Annabella and Anabella were unranked until recently.

If Annabel and company are revival names, they’re less about the nineteenth century and more about the Middle Ages.  Many trace Annabel back to a pair of saints, one male and one female, both sharing the Latin name Amabilis.

In the fifth century, Amabilis served as a parish priest in Riom.  His name was probably closer to Amable.  Visit his French hometown today, and the central church is still named in his honor.  

Two centuries later, a princess wore a similar name.  She became a nun, and later a saint, in Rouen.  Records list her as Saint Amabilis, too.  

One or both inspired the medieval name Amabel, the source of late 19th century favorite Mabel.  Variants abound – Amabilia, Amiable, Amice and Mabella were all seen, too.  Even without the saints, it is easy to see the appeal of names related to the Latin amicus – friend. 

Amabel morphed into Annabel sometime after the 700s, either because parents linked the saint’s name to Anna, or because of a misspelling.  (Think of Innogen/Imogen.)

Others have argued that she’s just a lovely smoosh of Anna and Belle, and some make the case that Annabel is actually related to Norman or Gaelic elements.

Regardless, she’s appealed to parents for centuries.  It’s said that the Duchess of York wanted to name her firstborn Annabel but was persuaded to choose Beatrice instead.  

Maybe that’s because of Annabel’s, the glamorous London nightclub known for hosting Frank Sinatra, Diana Ross and more.  (The club was named after the owner’s wife, an aristocratic Annabel.  Viscountess Astor is an Annabel, too.)   

The rise of Isabella boosted all of the -bella names, but Annabelle most of all.  This either makes Annabel and friends either the perfect choice for parents seeking something just a little different, or one that seems a bit too familiar.  But with plenty of nickname options – besides Annie and Bella, you might even use Abby as a contracted form – there’s much to like about Annabel.

I hope everyone had a spooktacular October 31.  My firstborn led the neighborhood kids in a chant of “Halloween!  Halloween!” as they walked through the streets, accumulating an unreasonable amount of candy.  They grow up so fast …

Aly at Queen Anne Farm, 2009

But speaking of treats, our new neighbors have a son named Ellis and a daughter named Zora.  Plus, a pint-sized Adelaide came trick-or-treating at our house.

Speaking of the nicely named, Jen of Blissfully Caffeinated has welcomed daughter Lila Genevieve.  If you haven’t read her story, you might want to sit down first.  Mom and baby are doing fine, but her birth experience?  Not what you imagine …

Now, onto the name news:

• After defending variant spellings, I’ve found one I just don’t get: Nicholus, spotted by the hawk-eyed Bewildertrix.  This just a week or two after Greysun.  If u is the new y, expect to meet Peigtun, Jaydun and Londun shortly;
• A mother who gave birth on an AirAsia flight has named her son AirAsia.  I guess Jett was too subtle;
• While we’re flying the friendly skies, I’ve yet to see Amelia, the movie, but I loved Nameberry’s Heroine Names posts – Part I and Part II.
• With a hat tip to Julie – new daddy Colin Farrell is, indeed, set to star in a film called Ondine, about a mermaid.  So perhaps Ondine has a better shot at the mainstream than I initially thought.  (We all know about big screen mermaids.)

Which reminds me … Splash’s Madison chose her name from the street, but I’m always excited to discover a street that just happens to have a familiar name.  Did you know there are streets named after each of the Muses in New Orleans?  I didn’t.  But once I spotted Clio Street from the streetcar, I insisted on backtracking a few blocks until we could snap a picture.

Clio Street, NOLA

We used to live near an Aisbet Street – I always thought it sounded sort of like a Scottish version of Elizabeth.  It isn’t – I’ve never come across the name’s origins – but I still think it sounds like a great choice for the middle.

A handful of famous babies’ arrivals were announced this week:

• Mets alum Mike Piazza and wife Alicia have welcomed a second daughter – Paulina Sophia, little sister to Nicoletta Veronica;
• Former Olympic gymnast Shannon Miller and husband John Falconetti have welcomed a son, John Rocco;
• While we’re talking athletes, the New York Knicks’ Al Harrington and wife Michelle welcomed a daughter, Amaya;
• Colin Farrell and girlfriend Alicja welcomed a son, Henry Tadeusz.  (Pronounced tah DEH oosh – the Polish equivalent of Thaddeus.)  Colin also has an older son, James Padraig.

Nancy posed the question: Should older children help choose a baby name?   I was 11 when my youngest sib was born, and I’m quite certain that my mother wasn’t soliciting our opinions.  (Which is, looking back, a good thing.)  Anyone out there tried this at home?

Lastly, ABC revives V as a television series about benevolent – or not – aliens this week.  I vaguely remember the 1983 mini-series, but found myself wondering what you’d name the Visitors.  Looks like they’re pretty ordinary – the leader is called Anna.

Which reminds me … Clio’s ladybug costume, courtesy of Aunt Solange, looked sort of extraterrestrial, what with the drooping antenna.

Clio the Bug

Thanks to everyone for reading! 

Between aggressively literary picks like Atticus and undeniably Biblical ones like Nehemiah, there at least one boys’ name that quietly combines both qualities.

Thanks to SG for suggesting Silas as Name of the Day.

There are two possible origins for Silas:

• It’s possible that he’s a contracted form of Silvanus, a Latin name derived from silva – woods – that also gave us Sylvester and Sylvia;
• Alternately, he could relate to more ancient names.  Virgil’s Aeneid mentions an Etruscan leader called Asilas.  Others have suggested that the Hebrew Saul (or Sha’ul) would’ve been Saulos in Greek.  Lastly, he could have Aramaic roots.  If any of these are true, Silvanus is simply the Latinized form of the pre-Roman Silas.

The original Silas became a Christian early days, and eventually accompanied the future Saint Paul on his mission trips throughout the ancient east – Antioch, Syria and Macedonia were among their stops.  The first century Silas achieved sainthood, too.  Either the name was in regular use or the figure inspired others, because at least two more saints Silvanus are recorded in the next few centuries.

As for the literary references, there are two biggies:

• Poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge left Cambridge in 1793 and joined the British Army under the name Silas Tomkyn Comberbache.  His reasons for choosing an alias – and for the alias itself – are unclear;
• Then there’s the far better known reference – in 1861, George Eliot penned Silas Marner: The Weaver of Ravloe.  While plenty of literary characters are poor role models for a child, Silas holds up well.  At the story’s beginning, he’s falsely accused of stealing from his church.  His friends and fiancee turn against him.  Silas rebuilds his life – and while he’s miserable and a bit of a miser, too, he eventually takes in an orphaned child.  (By the way, he calls her Hephzibah, nickname Eppie.)  Anyhow, Eppie and Silas form a little family and all ends well.

A Top 200 pick back in the 19th century, you’ll find him in the history books, too.  Along with Benjamin Franklin, Silas Deane was an early ambassador to France.  Captain Silas Talbot once commanded the USS Constitution.  Silas Wright was the 14th governor of New York.  And Major General Silas Casey served in the Union Army during the Civil War.

If Biblical, literary and Americana roots weren’t enough, there’s also the sound of Silas.  It’s shared by newer names like Tyler and Kai, as well as Old Testament choices currently in vogue, like Elijah and Isaac.  The ends-in-s construction is fashionable, too – think Miles or even Rufus.

Little wonder he’s gaining in use quickly.  In 2008, he was the 602nd most popular name.  By 2008, he stood at #313.  That’s not exactly chart-topping, but it looks something like the trajectories of Elijah and Isaiah in the 1990s.  Both names are now Top 100 choices.

Plenty of parents are hearing Silas these days, too – he’s a character on Showtime’s Weeds and a creepy monk in The Da Vinci Code.

All of this could make Silas the perfect name – ahead of the curve, but still just a little bit different.  But if you’re determined to find something truly unusual, Silas might disappoint.

On the heels of Victor Hugo’s Eponine, we turn our attention to another French-not-French choice.

Thanks to Sebastiane for suggesting Ondine as Name of the Day.

From Anna to Ida and Elizabeth to Amanda, plenty of names beginning with vowels have been big hits for girls.  But until Olivia, O names were often overlooked.  Today, Owen and Oliver have joined the mix.  But parents seeking a distinctive name can easily look to the letter O.

Ondine – pronounced OHN deen or possibly AHN deen – sounds French.  And you might hear her in France today, though she’s quite rare.  Yet unlike the sinking Eponine, Ondine has been on the upswing in recent years.

She traces back to undine, a term coined by Paracelsus – a sixteenth century scientist whose work strayed into the occult.  Paracelsus linked each of the four elements to a creature – gnomes for the earth, salamanders for fire, sylphs for airs and undines for water.  His inspiration for the last is pretty clear – the Latin unda means wave.

Paracelsus didn’t intend to use the term as a personal name.  Instead, in the early 1800s, Freidrich de la Motte Fouqué chose Undine for his heroine, a water sprite who falls for a mortal.  Enter the singing crustacean – Undine shares roots with the Little Mermaid, as well as many a similar fairy tale.

Undine became a nineteenth century artistic staple, inspiring adaptations for opera and ballet, as well as countless paintings and sculptures.  It happened fast, too – the story appeared in 1811, and by 1830, the ballet Ondine, ou La Naïade debuted in London.

But Ondine was no Ariel.  As befits operatic drama, when she caught her beloved cheating, Ondine summoned up the remains of her mystical abilities and cursed him.  Should he ever fall asleep again, he’d struggle to breathe.  That’s why a type of sleep apnea is referred to as “Ondine’s Curse.”

Other uses of the name and references to her story include:

• Antonin Dvořák wrapped together several European stories for his 1901 opera, but called his Rusalka – the Slavic equivalent;
• Maurie Ravel used Ondine as the title for the first movement of his Gaspard de la nuit;
• Audrey Hepburn once played the title role on stage in Jean Giraudoux’s Ondine;
• Edith Wharton’s 1913 novel The Custom of the Country featured Undine Spragg, a small town girl with big ambitions – and pushy parents – who makes her way into New York City society.
• In her 1982 novel Tar Baby, Toni Morrion named one of her characters Ondine;
• Tchaikovsky composed the opera Undina in 1869.  While you may not have heard Undina, some of the musical was recycled for later works, including Swan Lake;
• In 2001, CBS miniseries Jack and the Beanstalk: The Real Story supposed that corporate exec Jack Robinson – a descendant of the original Jack – might have an opportunity to atone for his ancestor’s giant-killing activities.  Ondine is a mysterious woman who gives the assist.

There are no shortages of fictional Ondines, but real life examples are few.  A handful turn up in census records, surely inspired by one of the many literary, musical or artistic uses.  The same is true of Undine and Undina.

While her sophisticated sound might be a bit much for a small child, Ondine isn’t so far from popular picks of recent decades – Colleen or Josephine, for example.  So if you’re seeking some rare and like the links to myth, literature and music, Ondine could be one to consider.