Irish Name Novels & Stories

I said. He looked at me with the expression he used when I did something that was slightly outside my designated role and he approved of it anyway. "Room six is ready," he said. --- Her name was Iris. She told me in the specific way teenagers told adults things they were not sure would be received well, quickly and looking at the wall rather than the person. "Iris," I said. "Good name." She looked at me then. Suspicious of the approval. "My mum named me," she said. "She said it was for the flower and the goddess simultaneously because she liked getting two things for the price of one."

I nod and trace the chubby baby cheek with my finger again. I remember all of my family having “H” names, and wonder if I should continue the tradition. Goddess I wish I could be sharing this moment with my parents, with my family. We’ve all been robbed of so damn much. *Names… hmmm,* Hope says, trying to reign me back in. Mirren had given me a book of “Irish” baby names which wasn’t actually a terrible gift. I did look over it. “Are you a Hannah,” I coo, bringing her to my nose so I can snuggle her again. Hope makes a face in my mind and shakes her head.

"A fine name indeed." "Hey what's the Gaelic word for fire?" she asked, watching a wisp of smoke unfurl from the young one's snout. "Aodh." "Is there anything you don't know?" "Maybe. Shamira grinned. "Aodh and Jörmungandr ," she said again. At least she'd finally gotten around to naming them.

I walk in, and he does the same, closing the gate behind us. It seems like he knows where he’s going while he strolls up the narrow path of a small hill, littered with tombstones. It looks like a regular Catholic graveyard, full of Irish names like Donovan, McDonnell, Murphy and O’Shea. We spend the walk to the mysterious destination in silence and my heart pounding so fast and loud I can feel it in my toes.

Morgan is laughing in my ear at my words. “In truth Lee, she came to me at a time when I had accepted death and welcomed it fervently”. He turns to fully face me, holding an old leather bound book. “The Kings of Ossory”. Hmm… What does this have to do with anything? “What is Ossory?”. Handing me the book, he guides me to the first page where there is a map that reads Eriu. “It means goddess Emma. Ireland it’s called today”. He slides his finger down to Ossory. It’s a drawn out territory. “Ok, but what does Ireland have to do with Morgan?”.

I say: well. She says: do you have a name yet. I have been thinking about this for the last several hours, in the specific way of someone whose mind needed something concrete to hold onto while waiting through the parts of the day I will not describe. I say: Iris. Faye looks at me. I say: Iris Vera Varga. She says: Iris. I say: it is close to Irina without being Irina. It carries the sound of her grandmother's name forward without requiring her to be a copy of anyone. And Vera, for the middle name, as we discussed.

But I was already out of sorts in a country I’d never really known, at a place I hadn’t known existed, and apparently that was enough to render me tongue-tied. Golden Man was peering at me expectantly, a similarly golden eyebrow raised in question. “Who are you, miss?” he said finally. “I’m Niamh Gallagher.” “Neev,” Golden Man repeated. “That’s an interesting name. Yet you sound like an American, yes?” “It’s Irish. I’m Irish-American. And my grandda owns—owned—this place.” I gestured around me. Both of golden man’s eyebrows shot straight up. “Gallagher—of course. You’re his granddaughter? I didn’t know he had a granddaughter.”

“By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you – what does Cosantóirí stand for?” “It’s a nod to my ancestry,” he explains with a proud smile as he sits down again. “My great-great-grandmother was full blood Irish. Cosantóirí means ‘defenders’ in Gaelic.” We finish breakfast, the mood lighter than before, and stand side-by-side at my double sinks to wash, dry, and put away our plates and silverware. “We’ve got about an hour to kill,” I tell him when I glance at the oven’s built-in clock.

Quinn repeated her Slendish name a few times, laughing, "Iris is a very nice and interesting name, the goddess of starry night in mythology. I suppose your Celestian name must also be very nice." Suddenly hearing someone ask for her Celestian name, Iris couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed. After a moment's hesitation, she still said, "I fell seriously ill two years ago and forgot everything from before. My father didn't tell me my Celestian name, but he calls me Izzy." - Izzy. The tip of the tongue touched the lower teeth, the corners of the lips slightly raised, and then the character could be pronounced. Simple yet deeply etched in my heart.

“Respect your father.” “Why did you name me Angus?” he howled. “Every hot chick that asks about my real name is immediately turned off.” “Because, it's a traditional family name,” mom said proudly. “Every first son on my side of the family has had that name.” “Callie's name is Irish, too, but it's normal,” Mo said darkly. “Why couldn't I have been Patrick? Or Conner?” “Hey, I'm named after a river, okay? How lame is that? At least you're cattle, or whatever.”