Pylimitics

"Simplicity" rearranged


A rose by any other nym

Most people know that an “acronym” is a word created from the first letters of a group of different words, like “NASA” (National Aeronautics and Space Administration). The “-nym” part of “acronym” is from the Greek word “onoma,” which means name. The “acro-“ part is also from Greek: “akros” means the top of something. 

You can also find “acro-” in “acrophobia,” the fear of heights. And there are a number of other words where you can find “-nym,” too. For example, a “pseudonym” is a false name. Somebody might use a pseudonym because they want to remain anonymous, or unnamed. Or they might instead use a “cryptonym” (a secret name), or just borrow somebody else’s name; that would be an “allonym.”  A person who actually is anonymous could also be called an “anonym.” 

The opposite of a pseudonym, at least in publishing, is an “autonym.” That’s an author’s real name. And the book the author publishes that way is “onymous” (bearing the author’s name). If you see “autonym” and “onymous” side by side, you might think of “autonomous,” but note the “omous” on the end — that actually comes from a different Greek root (nomos) meaning law or custom. “Autonomous” doesn’t relate to names, but to being self-governing. 

When it comes to naming people and things it’s natural to draw inspiration from something else — if a child’s name is derived from their father, it’s a “patronym.” If it’s from their mother, it’s a metronym. When a society has a customary system of naming based on either the father’s or the mother’s line, that’s either patronymy or metronymy. And in the unusual case that the parents names are based on the child’s (this is a real thing), that’s “teknonymy.” But other things besides children have names, of course — towns, for example. Some towns are named after some aspect of their location, such as “Portland,” “Riverdale,” or “Lakeville.” Those names are “toponyms”. Alternatively, a town might be named after a person; someone famous or significant, such as its founder. Houston is named after its founder. There are also any number of “Washingtons” in the US. Names of towns (and other things) based on someone’s name are “epynyms.” If the name is especially fitting or appropriate, like a wealthy person being named “Richy Rich,” it’s an “aptronym.” 

There are also several “-nym” words that refer only to relationships among other words. “Synonyms” are words with the same meaning but different sounds, and “homonyms” are words with the same sounds but different meanings.” Incidentally, “poecilonym” is a synonym for “synonym.” Antonyms” are words with opposite meanings, such as “antonym” and “synonym.” And similar to both a synonym and an antonym is an “ananym,” which is a word or name written backward, which is often used as a synonym. Not always, of course; in electrical engineering, an “ohm” is a unit for measuring resistance, and its reciprocal is a “mho.” Another kind of synonym is a “euphonym,” a synonym that has a pleasant sound. And if you’re interested in etymology, “isonyms” are words that have the same derivation. 

A common way to name a business, product, or a project is to combine two or three words to get, for example, “FaceBook,” “BitCoin,” or “SuperSoaker.” Names made up of two terms are “dionyms.” If you use THREE words to form a name, that name is a “trionym.” And if you use more than that, what you end up with is a “polyonym.” 

To finish up, here are some hierarchical oddities. A “hyponym” is a term that’s a member of a larger class. For example, “tulip” is a hyponym of “flower.” In this case “flower” is a “hypernym” (the term for the broader class) of “tulip.” And other words at the same hierarchical level as “tulip,” such as “lily” and “rose,” are “cohyponyms.” Hyponyms are similar to synonyms, but while synonyms have the same meaning, hyponyms are words for the the same type of thing — not just names; verbs about sight (stare, gaze, watch, glare) are hyponyms too. So you might say that this whole little article is about a bunch of hyponyms. 



About Me

I’m Pete Harbeson, a writer located near Boston, Massachusetts. In addition to writing my own content, I’ve learned to translate for my loquacious and opinionated puppy Chocolate. I shouldn’t be surprised, but she mostly speaks in doggerel.