What Is The Significance Of The Title 'Paper Names'?

Reading 'Paper Names' made me obsessed with how the title works on multiple levels. On the surface, it refers to the literal paperwork that defines characters' lives—visas, IDs, certificates that gatekeep their existence. But dig deeper, and it becomes about the fragility of identity. Names on paper can be erased, altered, or deemed invalid with a stamp. The novel shows how immigrant families cling to these paper names while secretly harboring richer, untranslatable versions of themselves.

The title also plays with the idea of performance. Some characters adopt 'paper names' to assimilate, wrapping themselves in new identities like temporary skins. Others rebel against them, insisting their real names be spoken correctly. The most heartbreaking moments show how paper names become cages—a child correcting a teacher's pronunciation only to be ignored, or a father signing documents that erase his professional credentials. It's a title that lingers because it captures both the bureaucratic violence and quiet resilience in the struggle for self-definition.

The title 'paper names' hits hard because it reflects how identities can be as fragile as paper in the face of systemic forces. The novel follows immigrants whose names get mangled by bureaucracy, their true selves reduced to misspelled paperwork. It's about the tension between the names we're given and the identities we claim—how a 'paper name' might not reflect someone's rich history or dreams. The title also hints at how easily these identities can be torn or discarded, like paper. It's a powerful metaphor for the immigrant experience, where documents often dictate worth more than the person behind them.

What grabs me about 'Paper Names' is how the title mirrors the novel's central conflict—the collision between personal identity and institutional indifference. Paper suggests something disposable, but names carry generations of history. The story exposes how systems flatten complex lives into fillable fields: a Chinese-American family's name gets butchered on school forms, a lawyer's credentials vanish in corporate files.

The brilliance is in the duality. 'Paper' also nods to origami—how immigrants fold themselves into new shapes to survive. Some characters weaponize their paper names, like the daughter who studies law to rewrite unfair systems. Others, like the grandfather, treat their birth name like a hidden treasure, whispering it in Mandarin when no one's listening. The title isn't just descriptive; it's a provocation. It asks whose names get preserved in ink and whose get crumpled.