Much ado about titles

As an extensive reader, I often analyze certain aspects of literature, trying to find out what I like, what I don’t like, what works, what doesn’t. Just recently, a book that I had never heard of before and knew nothing about, made me want to read it. Why? Because the title was catchy. Suddenly I had an interest in the titles of books.

Titles are the first thing you notice about a book, even before you see its cover. When we were at a booksale recently, Purring Piggy was initially put off by a book called “Murder, Murder, Murder” (it was a collection of Mr. and Mrs. North mysteries). Not because she knew anything about its content, but because the title implied its content.

A bad title will put off a reader, and a good title will attract readers. It does not necessarily matter how good the book is; there are books with very interesting titles that are very boring inside. Titles do not even have to reflect the content of the book, though they should, to be good. As long as the reader is attracted enough to pick up the book, what follows matters less. What good will it do if a book is the best ever written, but has a title that sounds dreadfully boring so that no one will actually read it?

There are three basic forms for titles of books: Names, Abstract, and Statement.

The first form, Names, is the most uninspiring. There are names of People, like Robinson Crusoe, Jane Eyre, and Eragon. It is hard, though, to be attracted to a name that means nothing to you. Even harder is to become attracted to a place, like Cranford, Watership Down, Wuthering Heights, or Bleak House. Of course, if you already have some attraction to the name, using it in a title will make the book’s title twice as interesting. Suspense and Sensibility is a deliberate play on the title of Sense and Sensibility, and is a catching title. George Eliot Murders is another interesting title, more so because the title takes a familiar name and pairs it with a word that is elsewhere unconnected. George Eliot murders? Surely not! The Eyre Affair and Jane and the Unpleasantness of Scargrave Manor: Being the First Jane Austen Mystery also use this trick.

The second form, Abstract, is much more common, but often only slightly less dull. Abstract titles can be one word, like Persuasion, Cotillion, and The Chosen; or more detailed, like North and South, Gone With the Wind, Great Expectations, The Way We Live Now. These titles ask questions: Who was persuaded? How does North relate to South? What went with the wind? But sometimes the question is not urgent enough. How could the way we live now make an interesting fiction story? Do we really care who was chosen?

The third form is Statement or Phrase titles. Over Sea Under Stone, The Once and Future King, Wild Animals I Have Known, are all good examples, also any title that starts with The Legend of... or The Adventures of... or The Tale of... or any other such useful formula.

Now we come to the examples of good titles. Much Ado About Nothing, were it not so famous, would be a good title. It promises plot twists and probably humor, and, most importantly, does not sound boring. 8 Men and a Duck is also good, because it uses “and” to connect two seemingly separate things, making the combination interesting. A Wrinkle in Time is an abstract title that is interesting because, after all, what is a wrinkle in time? Villains by Necessity and Amusing Ourselves to Death are interesting because of their oxymoronic value.

Doctor Dogbody is just another uninteresting name title, but Doctor Dogbody’s Leg throws the whole picture into a new light. A tarantula may not be interesting by itself, but The Tarantula in My Purse certainly is! Eats Shoots and Leaves sounds like a murder mystery, and not necessarily an interesting one, but when you find out that it’s a grammar book? Well then, it’s suddenly interesting.

The Man Who Was Thursday and Castaways of the Flying Dutchman have just enough weirdness to make them good. As for titles that make you ask questions, there are The Man Who Knew Too Much, He Knew He Was Right, We Didn’t Mean To Go To Sea, Why Shoot a Butler, and last and probably best When Did Wild Poodles Roam the Earth. (Good heavens, when did they?)

Some titles are good because of their rhythm or alliterative quality. The Tale of Two Cities has a nice sound to it, as do Swallows and Amazons and The Red Badge of Courage. Mr. Popper’s Penguins, Do Butlers Burgle Banks, and The Wolves of Willoughby Chase, use alliteration well.

Jean Fritz deserves an award all to herself for having interesting titles for children’s history books. King George and the American Revolution is not particularly grabbing, so though it could be an alternate title for one of her books, she picked a better one: Can’t You Make Them Behave, King George? There are more, and all of them grab your attention:
And Then What Happened, Paul Revere?
Shh! We’re Writing the Constitution
Why Don’t You Get a Horse, Sam Adams?
Why Not, Lafayette?
What’s the Big Idea, Ben Franklin?
Will You Sign Here, John Hancock?

Of course, just about any title can be revved up by the addition of a buzz word, such as “Mutiny”, “Escape”, “Death”, “Miracle”, “Phantom/Ghost”, “Revenge”, “Pirate”, “Quest”, “Danger”, etc. Much Ado on the Bounty is not nearly as sensational as Mutiny on the Bounty.

There are titles that no one has tried yet, like The Incredibly Depressing Story of [insert name here] (reverse psychology) or The Kung Fu Dragons of France (odd juxtaposition) or The Ship that Shouldn’t Sail (asking questions). Perhaps they would not be interesting stories, but their titles are.

However, after examining many, many different titles, I still think that the best title is the one that got me started on this study. This title, of a cookbook, is:

The Enchanted Broccoli Forest

Now if that doesn’t get you wanting to read a cookbook, I don’t know what title would.