Thursday, September 10, 2026

When Names Laugh: ICONN 7 Turns Baia Mare into a Laboratory of Onomastic Humour

What can make a name funny? Its sound? Its meaning? The person who bears it? A mistranslation? A political joke? A village whose name suddenly sounds obscene centuries after it was created? Or simply the gap between what a name promises and what its bearer turns out to be?

For three days, 9–11 September 2026, Baia Mare becomes an unusually appropriate place to ask such questions. The seventh International Conference on Onomastics “Name and Naming” (ICONN 7) has opened at the “Petre Dulfu” County Library under the theme “Onomastics and Humour.” Local coverage describes more than 80 participants from 20 countries, participating both in Baia Mare and online. The conference is organised by the Centre of Onomastics of the Faculty of Letters, North University Centre of Baia Mare, Technical University of Cluj-Napoca, in cooperation with Maramureș County Council and Visit Maramureș, with ICOS, the Nicolae Felecan Foundation and the “Petre Dulfu” Library among its partners.



The programme confirms just how widely the organisers have interpreted their theme. Humour is investigated in anthroponymy, toponymy, literature and film, political discourse, advertising, social media, translation, astronomy, gastronomy, folklore, sport and everyday naming practices. The academic sessions take place on 9 and 10 September, before the conference moves into the landscape of Maramureș itself on 11 September, with an excursion through Certeze, Săpânța, Sighetu Marmației and Sat Șugatag.




Rather than following room numbers and time slots, let us walk through ICONN 7 in another way. Imagine the conference as a House of Humorous Names, with several doors. Behind each lies a different reason why names make us smile - and sometimes why that smile deserves serious examination.

The five doors opened by the plenary lectures

The plenary programme already sketches the intellectual geography of the conference.

Emma Tămâianu-Morita - “Puns on brand and company names in Japanese TV commercials: A text-linguistic analysis.” Japanese advertisements turn names such as brands and companies into raw material for phonetic and lexical play. The paper examines Wasei Eigo, covert bilingualism and the creation of new Japanese words from commercial names, arguing that humour forms part of a broader “soft-sell” advertising strategy.

Peter Jordan - “Toponyms as ‘condensed narratives’ about the geographical feature denoted – occasionally not without humour.” Two tiny settlements in the narrow Raccolana Valley, Piani di Quà and Piani di Là — roughly “the plains over here” and “the plains over there” — illustrate how a place-name can compress a community's perception of landscape into a miniature narrative. Calling such tiny spaces “plains” is itself almost an act of geographical humour.


Margareta Manu Magda - “Criterii de apreciere a nuanțelor ironice în antroponimie (cazul limbii române).” Rather than merely collecting amusing names, Manu Magda asks a more difficult theoretical question: how do we recognise irony in anthroponymy? Her distinction between constitutive and functional irony places the interpretation of names within functional and cognitive linguistics.

Grant W. Smith - “Some possible terms for literary onomastics.” Smith approaches the subject from the terminological side. Since the ICOS list of key onomastic terms does not provide a developed terminology for literary onomastics, he proposes distinctions involving narratives, borrowings and coinages that could provide the field with a more precise analytical vocabulary.


And Justyna Walkowiak - “Once upon a hodonym: Fairytale and pop-cultural street names in contemporary Poland” takes us onto actual streets named after Winnie-the-Pooh, Sesame Street or Cinderella. These are not merely amusing municipal curiosities: Walkowiak argues that such names domesticate global popular culture, humanise anonymous suburban environments and help market neighbourhoods as family-friendly places.


These five lectures already reveal something important: onomastic humour is rarely “just a joke.” It can sell, classify, narrate, interpret landscape and reshape public space.

Room I: The Name as a Social Mirror

Personal names are perhaps the most dangerous place for humour, because a joke about a name is almost inevitably a joke about a person.

Annika Hussar - “On Estonian first names and their interpretation” reminds us that comic perception changes historically: an unusual Estonian name that sounds strange today may have been perfectly meaningful when it was bestowed, while spelling and cross-linguistic coincidences can create humour that the original name-givers never intended.

Gergana Petkova, Veronika Kelbecheva and Vanya Ivanova - “Being ‘Salfetka’ among Maria and Ivan in Bulgarian anthroponymy” set striking modern names against an older Bulgarian tradition of unusual or deliberately “ugly” protective names. Salfetka ‘napkin’ may surprise outsiders, but such names can carry individuality, family history and older naming logic rather than merely comic intent.

Kitti Hauber - “Names based on anecdotes. The cognitive schema of circumstantial Hungarian family names” shows another path from event to name: embarrassing, spectacular or humorous incidents become stories, stories become social knowledge, and sometimes that knowledge becomes a surname or nickname.

At the University of Miskolc, Judit Kecskés - “Sources of humor in vulgos, the special kind of nicknames used by students of the University of Miskolc” investigates a naming tradition in which student nicknames reinforce group membership while exploiting sounds, blends, incongruity and even unexpectedly long name forms.

Several Romanian papers approach nicknaming from complementary angles. Daiana Felecan - “Poreclele – sursă de umor în antroponimie. Între creativitate denominativă și pragmatică socială” develops an interdisciplinary account of the nickname as an unconventional anthroponym and examines the mechanisms and social functions of comic naming. Gabriela-Sînziana Ioaneș - “Poreclele – între funcția identificatoare și dimensiunea umoristică” places particular emphasis on the boundary between humour and offence: irony, metaphor, hyperbole and contrast may bond a community, but the same nickname can function as attenuated aggression. That boundary becomes still sharper in Daiana Felecan and Alexandra Iliescu-Bujor - “Fenomenul poreclirii în spațiul public românesc între umor și stigmatizare.” Their public figures - politicians, athletes and celebrities - demonstrate how quickly playful evaluation can become sarcasm, insult or stigma in television, online journalism and social media.

Simona Goicu-Cealmof - “Umorul și poreclele politicienilor români actuali” focuses specifically on contemporary political nicknames and the mechanisms by which appearance, behaviour, quotations, cultural associations and wordplay are turned into compact evaluations of public personalities.

Adriana Stoichițoiu Ichim - “Telescoparea antroponimică – sursă a umorului în spațiul public românesc” studies a particularly aggressive technique: deliberately blending a politician's name with another lexical element. These portmanteau anthroponyms become simultaneously playful, evaluative and persuasive instruments of political ridicule.

The potentially painful side of funny surnames appears in Oliviu Felecan - “Umorul în numele de familie românești.” His starting point includes memories of children searching telephone books for amusing surnames and prank-calling their bearers - behaviour we would now readily recognise as bullying. Historical requests to change “shameful” surnames show that onomastic humour has genuine consequences for the people carrying the names.

A comparable historical dimension is developed by János N. Fodor - “Negative connotation as a reason for changing surnames in Hungary in the 19th century.” Hungarian surnames resembling words meaning such things as ‘frog’ or ‘sausage’, or foreign surnames acquiring unfortunate Hungarian associations, could motivate their bearers to seek a different family name.

Sabrina Palinkas - “Umorul în antroponimia contemporană: mecanisme semantice și pragmatice în cazul numelor din județul Satu Mare” turns to unintended humour. A surname may be inherited, a first name deliberately chosen, yet the eventual combination can acquire comic meanings through later social interpretation. The important distinction is therefore between naming intention and subsequent reception.

The intercultural dimension becomes particularly visible in Ioana Dolca - “Practici onomastice în comunitățile rome: între identitate, creativitate și umor.” Rather than treating unconventional names simply as objects of laughter, the study examines them as identity strategies shaped by family choice, media culture and social aspiration, while also considering how outsiders perceive them.

Anna Tsepkova - “Language play in Russian unconventional anthroponymic practices (Case study: Contemporary nicknames of Novosibirsk region)” analyses parody, rhyme, homonymy, alliteration, pseudo-allusion and metaphor as ways of reshaping official names into unofficial comic ones.

Bíbor Klára Kovács-Sipos - “László László and Csák Norisz – Humorous name combinations in Hungary” explores surname–given-name combinations which internet users find funny because they accidentally resemble ordinary phrases, famous names or repetitive sound patterns - though some parents deliberately create precisely such combinations.

Kudzai Cathrine Bingisai - “Nicknames and their significance for the Shona speaking people in Zimbabwe” broadens the cultural field still further: Shona nicknames emerge through family, friendship, personal characteristics and particular events, and humour may function both as shared laughter and as mockery.

Naming even becomes a matter of legislation in Kitti Hauber, Judit Kozma and Bíbor Klára Kovács-Sipos - “Humouring around names. The bittersweet aspects of first-name requests in Hungary.” Hungary's regulated first-name inventory has generated both serious attempts to introduce unusual names and deliberate applications designed to test, mock or disrupt the naming system.

Finally, Mihaela Munteanu Siserman and Iulia Mateiu - “Despre utilizarea vocabularului sexualității în apelative românești și franceze: între derizoriu și complicitate” investigate Romanian and French forms of address drawn from sexual vocabulary, asking how expressions that look offensive in isolation can, depending on context, signal mockery, intimacy, solidarity or complicity.

The lesson of this first room is therefore uncomfortable but essential: a humorous name is never funny in isolation. There is always a name-giver, a bearer, an audience and a social relationship between them.

Room II: When the Map Starts Laughing

Place-names are safer targets - a hill cannot be offended. Yet even here the conference repeatedly asks whether humour belongs to the original act of naming or only to later interpretation.

Katalin Reszegi and Evelin Mozga - “Verbal humor in unofficial Hungarian toponyms” examine informal names documented by the Hungarian National Toponym Registry. A tiny stream may grandly become the Nile, a narrow field may look like a trouser leg, and an unprestigious area may borrow the name of an elite Budapest district. Humour grows out of metaphor, disproportion and social evaluation.

Adelina Emilia Mihali - “Oiconime românești – între etimologie și umor” examines Romanian media lists of supposedly “funny” settlement names and asks how many really have comic origins. Present-day speakers often reinterpret historically innocent names through modern homonyms, sometimes assigning obscene associations that have little to do with the actual etymology.

The same tension is central to Daniela Butnaru - “Fascinația toponimiei: între divertisment și rigoare științifică.” Fantastic etymologies, invented legends and even false place-names can flourish in journalism and social media precisely because they are entertaining. The danger, Butnaru argues, is that a good story may become more attractive than documented linguistic history.

Ana-Maria Prisacaru - “Nume de locuri licențioase între etimologie toponimică și percepție umoristică” makes the distinction especially vivid. Toponyms now interpreted as indecent may derive from personal names, landscape descriptions or older vocabulary. What modern users hear as vulgar may therefore tell us more about contemporary linguistic perception than about the original denominator.

The host region itself becomes a corpus in Luca Sângeorzan - “Umorul în nomenclatura stradală din Baia Mare și Maramureș.” Historical administrative changes and present-day mismatches between street names and their referents create opportunities for both diachronic and synchronic humour in the urbanonymy of Maramureș.

From Romania the map moves to Italy. Federica Cugno - “Forme e dimensioni dell’ironia nella toponimia di tradizione orale del Piemonte” uses material from the Atlante Toponomastico del Piemonte Montano to identify irony in traditional oral place-names, especially through antiphrasis, hyperbole and the playful replication of better-known toponyms.

Three Czech and Hungarian contributions approach the same phenomenon from different directions. Pavel Štěpán - “Humour in Czech toponyms” distinguishes genuinely humorous motivations from amusing folk etymologies and examines settlement names, fields, forests, waters and roads. Dávid Wendl - “Humorous toponymy of the Kalocsai Sárköz region (Hungary)” works toward a typology based on anecdotes, events, semantic associations, expressive sound and occasionally obscenity.
Martina Zirhutová - “Jára Cimrman in Czech toponymy: Mystification, humour, and cultural identity” introduces perhaps the perfect humorous commemorand: Jára Cimrman, the fictional Czech universal genius. Streets, paths, lookout towers and other sites named after a man who never existed turn an elaborate national joke into geographical reality.

And in New Zealand, Philip Matthews - “A town like no udder: Humour with a place name” examines how the town of Bulls has transformed its name into a local branding system through bovine puns. Here humour is not an accidental interpretation of a toponym: it has become an economic resource.



Place-names, these papers collectively suggest, sit somewhere between history and imagination. A map records geography, but it also records what communities have noticed, misunderstood, exaggerated, mocked and remembered.

Room III: Names for Sale, Names Online, Names in the Wild

Humour does not merely identify. It attracts attention - an invaluable property wherever names compete in marketplaces, media or digital space.

Tereza Slaměníková - “Humorous naming strategies in Taipei’s night markets” shows food-stall owners competing for the eyes and memories of customers through homophony, ambiguity and culturally embedded references, including Taiwanese Hokkien. Humour functions simultaneously as advertisement, social contact and local identity.

In Awni Khasawneh - “Humor in names: Representations of identity and popular protest in Jordanian naming practices,” commercial names, tribal names and digital pseudonyms become vehicles for satire, self-expression and symbolic protest. Naming humour here emerges as a form of cultural resilience under social and economic pressure.

Keita Ikarashi and Akihiko Sakamoto - “Japanese product names with oboreru: How multiple interpretations contribute to their ‘sense’” investigate the Japanese verb oboreru ‘to drown’. A burger can metaphorically be “drowning in cheese,” while the consumer may simultaneously be imagined as immersed in it. Commercial naming exploits exactly this semantic multiplicity.

Davide Astori - “Quando il nome fa il monaco. Per una creatività umoristico-ergonimica in italiano” examines invented pseudo-names and joke names whose sounds evoke professions, national stereotypes or familiar personalities. The joke depends on recognition - but also raises questions about translatability and stereotyping.

Humour also grows in a rather different naming ecosystem: folk botany. Delia-Anamaria Răchișan - “Fitonime amuzante” contrasts scientific plant terminology with regional popular names, where physical appearance, household use, animals, the human body and even taboo vocabulary preserve fragments of traditional rural humour.

The digital self receives its own onomastic category in Diana Dimirache - “Autonumirea digitală între mască, brand și umor: o analiză socioonomastică a pseudonimului online.” The online pseudonym can function simultaneously as mask, personal brand and comic performance, leading Dimirache toward the concept of “digital autoonomastics.”

Nicoleta Dănilă Amargheoalei - “Traducere și comic în denumiri și concepte din domeniul informaticii” explores what happens when names and technical concepts pass between languages - or through automated translation. Ambiguity and inappropriate semantic choices can generate accidental comedy, but those errors also expose where human interpretation remains necessary.

Daiana Felecan and Cristina Peride - “Romgleza ca sursă de umor: parodie și calcuri în discursul contemporan românesc” examine humorous Romanian-English mixing, from exaggerated code-switching to conspicuous English calques. The comic effect arises when bilingual forms feel deliberately overdone or unexpectedly alien within Romanian discourse.

Wine receives a personality of its own in Manuela Mihăescu - “Antroponimele și ‘personalitatea’ vinului.” Tasting notes anthropomorphise wine with bodies, legs, attacks and temperaments; their collisions between technical terminology and sensual metaphor can produce subtle, sometimes unintended humour while simultaneously creating a marketable identity for the product.

Names created inside artistic workshops form another specialised microculture. George Dan Istrate - “Caracterul ludic al supranumelor de atelier” examines Italian artists' workshop bynames, showing how an originally playful or descriptive nickname may ultimately become the historically dominant name of the artist.

Football provides an equally fertile field. Oliviu Felecan and Rebeca-Ioana Petruș - “Denumiri de cluburi sportive în România: între creativitate și umor” investigate lower-league Romanian club names inspired by animals, history, geography and intentionally playful concepts - a reminder that institutional names need not adopt institutional solemnity.

Even economics develops an onomastic sense of humour. Susana Duarte Martins - “Naming the economy: Identity, stereotypes, and irony in linguistic shortenings” examines motivated acronyms such as PIGS, STUPID, BRICS, CARBS and CASHH. Abbreviation ceases to be mere compression: it classifies countries, constructs narratives and encodes positive or negative evaluation.

And humour escapes the Earth altogether in Judit Kozma and László Szabados - “Humor in the heavens - From official nomenclature to witty acronyms.” Astronomical naming may look like one of the most tightly regulated naming systems imaginable, yet nicknames, acronyms and witty technical designations demonstrate that even official nomenclature cannot entirely suppress linguistic play.

Finally, Valeriia Neklesova and Olena Karpenko - “Participatory culture: Onymic play” take us into memes, fandoms and AI-assisted creativity. Names of famous people and phenomena are endlessly recombined, while obscure names may themselves be propelled toward virality through collective wordplay.

Room IV: Names Take the Stage - Literature, Theatre and Film

If real-world names accumulate unintended associations, literary names are often created precisely so that associations will accumulate around them.

Mariann Slíz - “Categorisation and typicality as means of onomastic humour” uses Jenő Rejtő's humorous novel A tizennégy karátos autó to show how comedy arises when characters misclassify names - confusing proper names with common nouns or drawing mistaken ethnic and social conclusions from what they consider a “typical” name.

The darker consequences of literary naming are addressed by David Morariu - “Names, naming and otherness: An onomastic discourse analysis of ethnic and xenophobic humor in the Romanian novel (1845–1947).” Drawing on a digital corpus of more than 1,200 novels, the paper investigates how supposedly comic naming can reproduce stereotypes about foreigners and ethnic minorities.

Andrada Savin - “Memory and nature in Thomas Perle’s ein jederman/domnul iedeman” examines a bilingual title whose echoes include both the Jedermann tradition and the Romanian company name Dedeman. Naming becomes part of a larger grotesque meditation on environment, identity, memory and Transylvanian–Austrian relations.

Translation is central to Denisa-Alexandra Ionescu - “I Malavoglia e i nomi parlanti. Studio comparato delle traduzioni in inglese e rumeno.” “Speaking names” condense characterisation and cultural knowledge, making their translation a test not just of language competence but of the translator's ability to reconstruct an entire cultural world.

Religious texts provide two surprising varieties of onomastic irony. Mirona Bence-Muk - “La valenza ironica dei nomi propri nel testo della Sacra Scrittura” explores the tension between a biblical name's meaning and the reality experienced by its bearer, interpreting this not as sarcasm but as a subtler theological form of irony. Octavian Gordon - “Umorul sobru al lui Dumnezeu: contraste ironice în antroponomastica Patericului egiptean” finds a similarly restrained “name humour” in the Apophthegmata Patrum, where irony leads toward spiritual reflection rather than laughter.
Film history receives its own remarkable translation story in Marcela-Cristina Oțoiu - “Umorul în traducere: cazul lui Stan și Bran.” The Romanian transformation of Laurel and Hardy into Stan și Bran is treated as an unusually successful cultural adaptation: the protagonists' names are domesticated so thoroughly that generations of Romanian viewers know them through their Romanian onomastic alter egos.

Romanian literature occupies a substantial part of this room. Raluca Giurgiulescu - “Umorul numelor în literatura română. Particularități ale antroponimiei comice la Marin Sorescu” places Sorescu within a longer Romanian tradition of comic character naming, from Alecsandri and Caragiale onward, and shows how the names of La Lilieci help build its vivid rural universe.

Tünde-Emese Șterța - “Valențe comice ale numelor proprii în literatura pentru copii” - with Daiana Felecan also named in the abstract volume - treats humorous names as more than decoration: because children readily respond to them, they can stimulate attention, interpretation, imagination and reading pleasure.

In the theatre of the absurd, Florina Babici - “Antroponimele ionesciene – între umor și paradox” examines the names in Eugène Ionesco's The Chairs and The Bald Soprano. Generic-seeming names, antonomasia and contradictions between designation and character produce a specifically tragicomic onomastic logic.

Animation offers a spectacular laboratory for wordplay. Alina Bugheșiu - “Names as objects of lexical-semantic wordplay in Pinky and the Brain (1995–1998)” analyses more than seventy examples in which names from cinema, music, literature, politics, geography and other domains are altered until their referential function gives way to comic semantic play.



Marie A. Rieger and Vincenzo Amendolara - “From Winnetou to Winnetouch. The role of names in the deconstruction of exotifying adventure novels” look at Michael Herbig's parodies of Karl May. Names become instruments through which a culturally iconic but increasingly problematic Western mythology can be humorously dismantled and re-evaluated.



In Brazilian literature, Anna Maria Godoy da Silva and Márcia Sipavicius Seide - “Between irony and humour: The first names Omar and Halin in the novel Two Brothers by Milton Hatoum” locate irony in the mismatch between etymological meaning and fictional biography: names suggest qualities that the characters' behaviour conspicuously fails to realise.

Traditional narrative receives a Romanian counterpart in Silvia Iluț - “Numele umoristice din basmele românești: funcții și valențe expresive.” Names such as Flămânzilă, Setilă or Strâmbă-Lemne do not merely identify fairy-tale figures; they sketch bodies, appetites and personalities while activating a recognisably local tradition of verbal humour.

An unusual historical case comes from George Dan Istrate - “Sinergia dintre textul literar, imaginea vizuală și denominație în simbologia Accademiei della Crusca.” In the seventeenth-century Accademia della Crusca, pseudonyms, mottos, portraits and the famous flour-and-bran symbolism form an integrated semiotic system in which playfulness and scholarly seriousness coexist.

Felicia Mich - “Antroponimele – mecanisme ale umorului în La Lilieci (vol. IV–VI)” revisits Sorescu through Freud. Humorous personal names and nicknames become mechanisms through which a community processes poverty, tension and negative affect, converting difficult experience into socially manageable laughter.

And Daiana Felecan and Maria Diana Iuga - “Ipostaze ale onomasticii umoristice în literatura română” widen the lens to non-canonical Romanian authors, examining how suggestive and ironic anthroponyms characterise individuals, expose social types and construct comic situations.

This room perhaps makes the conference's central principle clearest of all: in literature, a name can function like a miniature text.

Room V: When Laughter Carries History, Resistance and Power

Some of the most thought-provoking ICONN 7 papers concern situations in which humour appears where one least expects it.

Žaneta Dvořáková - “Names in Czech jokes during World War II” turns to joke collections from the German occupation. Humour offered temporary escape, but also resistance and a means of ridiculing political power and collaborators; proper names were among the raw materials through which that resistance was encoded.


Halyna Matsyuk - “Theory of humorous onomastics and its development based on new lexical resources in contemporary Ukrainian linguistics” applies an interdisciplinary model to military call signs in Bohdan Zholdak's screenplay narrative Ukry, treating wartime pseudonyms as secondary nominations whose meanings can carry a specifically humorous component.

Edlira Abdurahmani - “Dimensions of humor in Albanian onomastics: A temporal, spatial, contextual, and cultural analysis” argues for a broad cultural reading of humour. Albanian nicknames, anthroponyms, urban names, commercial names and other naming practices reveal how humour varies according to time, community, register and cultural mentality.

Katalin Reszegi - “Verbal humor involving proper names: A cognitive linguistic approach” asks what happens inside the mind when a name becomes funny. Both the phonological and semantic “poles” of a proper name may trigger associations, incongruities and inferences; the laugh therefore emerges through active cognitive interpretation rather than residing automatically inside the name itself.

Vlad Arhipov-Fokshek - “Historical humor and sacred meaning of the idiom ‘бісові діти’ in light of the historical image of ‘boyar Foksha’: A comprehensive analysis” proposes a reconstruction linking the anthroponym Foksha, the toponym Focșani and migration history through linguistic, toponymic and genetic-genealogical evidence. Its conclusions are presented in the abstract as an attempt to move a folkloric figure into the sphere of historical investigation.

And Veronika Štěpánová - “When names amuse: Humour in the Czech Language Consulting Centre” provides a useful reality check for the entire conference. Calls and emails to professional linguists contain anecdotes, folk etymologies and creative interpretations of names - and sometimes what a linguist regards as a serious answer is itself interpreted by the public as a joke. Expert and popular notions of “funny” are not necessarily the same.

So what exactly is “onomastic humour”?

After seventy scheduled contributions, a surprisingly coherent answer begins to emerge.

A name can be funny because of its form - rhyme, repetition, blending or resemblance to another word. It can be funny because of its semantics - especially when literal meaning clashes with its referent. It can become funny historically, after linguistic change makes an innocent old form resemble a modern taboo word. It can be created deliberately to attract customers, ridicule a politician, strengthen a group, advertise a neighbourhood or construct a fictional character.



But ICONN 7 repeatedly moves beyond the mechanics of the joke.

Humorous naming can create solidarity, as in student and community nicknames. It can produce stigma, bullying or pressure to change one's surname. It can become political resistance, or political aggression. It can turn a food stall into a brand, a fictional genius into a place-name, a celestial acronym into an astronomical joke, and a fairy-tale character into a street address.

Most importantly, several papers insist on a distinction essential to serious onomastics: a name that sounds funny today was not necessarily created as a joke. Folk etymology, historical semantic change, translation and cultural distance can all manufacture humour long after the original act of naming.

That is why the theme “Onomastics and Humour” is more substantial than it might initially appear. The conference is not merely assembling curious names. It is examining the moment at which a name ceases to be a neutral identifier and begins to perform.

It may perform identity.

It may perform intimacy.

It may perform ridicule.

It may perform memory.

It may perform commerce.

And sometimes it simply performs the wonderfully human act of refusing to take language completely seriously.



A fitting final journey through Maramureș

After two dense days of plenary lectures and parallel sessions, ICONN 7 leaves the conference rooms on Friday, 11 September. The official excursion travels from Baia Mare through Certeze and Săpânța - including the Merry Cemetery and Peri Monastery - to Sighetu Marmației, its Village Museum, and Sat Șugatag, before returning to Baia Mare.

It is difficult to imagine a more appropriate conclusion to a conference on names and humour than Săpânța's Merry Cemetery: a cultural landscape in which names, identities, occupations, biographies, memory, irony and laughter literally meet on the same monuments.

The local headline calling Baia Mare “the capital of names” for three days therefore feels less like journalistic exaggeration than a rather accurate description.

For three days, at least, names are not merely being catalogued in Baia Mare.

They are being allowed to laugh.



Tuesday, September 8, 2026

Claudio Felisi’s Hadès aux multiples noms and the Onomastic History of a Greek God

 Few Greek gods demonstrate the power of naming as vividly as Hades.

He is the ruler of the dead, but his name can also designate the realm over which he rules. He can be approached through different forms, titles and epithets; some make him terrifying, others emphasize authority, wealth or his relationship with the world beneath the earth. Ancient authors themselves tried to explain what his names meant - and their explanations reveal as much about Greek ideas of divinity as about language.

This extraordinary relationship between name, divine identity and interpretation is the subject of Claudio Felisi’s new monograph, Hadès aux multiples noms. Histoire onomastique d’un dieu grec d’Homère à Platon (Hades of Many Names: An Onomastic History of a Greek God from Homer to Plato), published by Classiques Garnier in March 2026 as volume 31 of the series Kaïnon – Anthropologie de la pensée ancienne. The bibliographical record gives 669 pages and ISBN 978-2-406-18768-4 for the paperback edition.

Hadès aux multiples noms – Classiques Garnier

This is already a notable publication in 2026: the Association for the Encouragement of Greek Studies in France awarded Felisi’s book its Prix de l’Association, jointly with Thomas Galoppin’s Les Bestiaires des mages.

For onomasticians, however, the book is interesting for a more fundamental reason. It asks a question that lies at the heart of the study of divine names:

Does a god have one “real” name - or is divine identity actually constructed through a network of names?

From one Hades to many names

The publisher describes the volume as a study of the multiple names of Hades across Homer, Greek tragedy, Plato, epitaphic material and other ancient sources. Felisi re-examines the etymology of the theonym itself, reconstructs an onomastic history of the god from the earliest evidence down to Plato, and analyses the many meaningful etymologies that ancient Greeks themselves proposed for his names.

That formulation is important. The book is not simply a dictionary of Hades’ epithets.

Its subject is onomastic history.

The distinction changes the questions being asked. Instead of merely listing alternative designations, one can investigate when particular names occur, in which genres they appear, what attributes of the deity they foreground, whether their meanings were transparent to Greek speakers, and how poets, philosophers and commentators reinterpreted them.

A divine name is therefore treated not as a fixed label but as something with a history of usage and interpretation.

This is especially appropriate for Greek polytheism. Recent work on the “onomastic landscapes” of gods such as Zeus has likewise emphasized that divine epithets and appellations can reveal different ways in which communities conceptualized and approached a deity. Felisi’s volume now applies an exceptionally detailed historical investigation to the ruler of the Underworld. A recent Bryn Mawr Classical Review discussion of a major study of Zeus already cites Felisi’s 2026 book as part of this developing scholarship on Greek divine names.

Why Hades is an exceptional onomastic case

Hades poses a fascinating problem because naming a god connected with death is never entirely neutral.

The ancient tradition preserves more than one form of the god’s name and numerous alternative appellations. Some of these can be understood in relation to death and the Underworld, others to receiving or ruling the dead, and still others to the riches associated with the earth.

The famous development of Plouton, “the wealthy/rich one,” illustrates the latter tendency particularly clearly. The ruler beneath the earth can be conceptualized not merely through death but through the wealth that comes from below: agricultural fertility and subterranean resources. In other words, changing the designation can simultaneously change the conceptual profile of the deity.

That makes Hades an excellent test case for an important principle of religious onomastics:

a change of divine name does not necessarily leave the image of the god unchanged.

The title Hadès aux multiples noms therefore carries more theoretical weight than might first appear. The “many names” are potentially many ways of understanding the same divine power.

What does Hadès itself mean?

At the centre of the investigation lies the theonym Hades itself.

Its etymology has long been debated. Ancient and modern interpretations have repeatedly associated it with the idea of the unseen or invisible, but the linguistic history is not straightforward, and alternative explanations have been proposed. Plato makes the problem particularly fascinating because his Cratylus does not merely reproduce the obvious association with invisibility: Socrates proposes an interpretation connected with the god’s knowledge of what is good.

For a modern historical linguist, an ancient etymology can of course be incorrect.

For the historian of ideas, however, that does not make it unimportant.

Quite the opposite.

If Plato derives a divine name in a way that would not satisfy modern comparative linguistics, the explanation still tells us how a fourth-century BCE intellectual could use the form of a name as evidence for the nature of a god.

And this is one of the most stimulating aspects of Felisi’s research: ancient etymologies are studied not only as attempts to recover linguistic origins, but as acts of interpretation and theology.

His earlier article D’où viennent les noms des dieux grecs ? La réponse d’Hérodote et de ses lecteurs anciens (Platon et Diodore) reconsidérée, published in Ktèma 49, already investigated precisely this intersection between the origin of divine names and ancient reflection on religion. The study re-examines Herodotus’ famous claims concerning the Egyptian, Pelasgian, Phoenician or Libyan origins of Greek divine names in light of their reception by Plato and Diodorus.

The new monograph appears as the much larger realization of that intellectual programme.

Homer: where the history begins

The subtitle promises a history “from Homer to Plato.”

This chronological framing matters. Homeric poetry is not merely a convenient collection of early quotations. It provides some of the earliest literary evidence for the vocabulary, formulas and conceptual structures through which Greek speakers encountered the ruler of the dead.

Following the names diachronically allows Felisi to ask how an inherited poetic divine figure changes as the Greek religious and intellectual landscape develops.

Names used in epic may be inherited, formulaic or semantically obscure. Later poetry can reactivate their apparent meanings. Tragedy can juxtapose divine identities in new ways. Philosophical texts can turn names into arguments.

The result is potentially a history not just of what Hades was called, but of how Greeks increasingly thought through his names.

Felisi’s earlier work confirms his particular interest in this type of textual transmission. He has studied the ancient allegorical interpretation of the Homeric “division of the world” among Zeus, Poseidon and Hades and the etymological reflections embedded in the scholia to Iliad 15. His research combines philology, linguistics and the history of Greek religion rather than treating these as separate domains.

The tragedians: when names become theological problems

Greek tragedy provides another crucial environment for divine naming.

One particularly revealing example has already been studied separately by Felisi. His article on Euripides fragment 912 Kn., published in the Revue de philologie, de littérature et d’histoire anciennes, revisits a fragment containing the remarkable formulation “either Zeus or Hades.” Felisi offers a new edition, translation and interpretation of the passage.

Even that short expression raises a major onomastic and theological question.

What does it mean when two divine names that ordinarily refer to distinct Olympian and chthonic powers can be placed in such close relation?

Is the poet identifying divine functions? Exploiting ambiguity? Referring to a specific ritual conception? Or demonstrating that a deity cannot always be understood from a single name?

This is exactly where the study of divine names exceeds traditional etymology. Naming becomes evidence for the structure of religious thought.

Plato and the transformation of etymology into philosophy

The choice of Plato as the chronological endpoint is especially significant.

In the Cratylus, names themselves become philosophical problems. Are names naturally connected with the things they designate? Can the structure of a word reveal the nature of its referent? Can an etymology produce knowledge?

When such questions are applied to divine names, the stakes become even higher. Explaining the name of Hades is simultaneously an attempt to explain Hades himself.

Felisi’s approach therefore connects onomastics with an ancient form of hermeneutics. The Greeks were not simply inheriting divine names; they were actively trying to make those names meaningful.

A name could serve as a compressed theological statement.

This distinction between the historical origin of a theonym and the meaning attributed to it by ancient interpreters is essential. Modern etymology asks where a form actually came from. Ancient significant etymology often asks what truth about the god can be discovered - or constructed - through the form of the name.

Both belong to the history of the name, but they are not the same thing.

Beyond canonical literature

Another important feature of the book’s advertised corpus is its inclusion of epitaphic evidence alongside Homer, tragedy and philosophy.

This widens the perspective considerably.

Literary texts tell us what poets and philosophers could do with divine names. Inscriptions and epitaphs bring us closer to naming in practices connected with actual death, commemoration and religious expectation.

This interest is also visible elsewhere in Felisi’s current research. His institutional bibliography lists forthcoming work on the functions of anthroponyms in Greek metrical epitaphs and earlier records research on the names of divine powers in the same corpus.

The combination is particularly valuable. The onomastic history of a god should not be reconstructed solely from famous literary authors if different naming practices can be observed in other textual environments.

An onomastician of ancient religious language

Claudio Felisi is currently Maître de conférences in Ancient Greek Language and Literature at the University of Strasbourg, affiliated with the CARRA (Centre d’Analyse des Rhétoriques Religieuses de l’Antiquité) and associated with the Orient & Méditerranée research unit. He received his doctorate in Ancient Greek Studies from Sorbonne Université in 2023. His research interests include the history of ideas and words in archaic and classical Greece, Homeric and tragic poetry, philology applied to Greek religion, ancient lexicography, scholia and commentary traditions.

That combination explains the character of Hadès aux multiples noms. It is neither simply a mythology book nor a conventional linguistic study.

It stands at the intersection of onomastics, philology, etymology, history of religion and history of ideas.

Felisi’s next major project makes that orientation even clearer. His institutional bibliography announces Les noms des dieux selon les Grecs. Théonymie, étymologie et théologie en Grèce ancienne, a broader study devoted to how Greeks understood divine names.

Hadès aux multiples noms can thus also be seen as an exceptionally detailed case study within a larger investigation of Greek theonymy.

Why this book matters to onomastics

The book’s importance extends beyond specialists in Greek religion.

Proper-name studies often begin with the distinction between reference and meaning. A personal name identifies an individual; a place name identifies a location; a divine name identifies a god. Yet the case of Hades shows how inadequate a purely referential description can become.

Greek speakers did not encounter a divine power through one invariant label.

They inherited several forms. They created epithets. They avoided some names and preferred others. Poets exploited semantic associations. Philosophers proposed etymologies. Commentators reinterpreted old forms. Different names could foreground different attributes of the god.

The relevant unit is therefore not necessarily Name = Deity.

It can instead be:

name + context + interpretation + historical moment = a particular representation of the deity.

This makes divine onomastics an unusually revealing field for thinking about the relationship between proper names and meaning.

A name may identify, but it can do much more than identify.

For the ancient Greeks, a divine name could explain, classify, reinterpret and even theorize the god who bore it.

A major new work - and already an award-winning one

At 669 pages, Hadès aux multiples noms is clearly intended as a major research monograph rather than a short introduction to Hades. It was released by Classiques Garnier on 4 March 2026, in the Kaïnon – Anthropologie de la pensée ancienne series. The fact that it received the 2026 Prix de l’Association from the Association for the Encouragement of Greek Studies in France only months after publication gives an early indication of its scholarly reception.

For onomasticians, perhaps the most attractive feature is the simplicity of the question concealed inside this massive investigation:

What happens if we write the history of a god through the history of his names?

The answer promises to transform a familiar mythological figure into a moving onomastic object.

Hades does not remain the same simply because the referent is supposedly the same. Across epic, tragedy, epitaphs and philosophy, his names accumulate meanings, associations and explanations.

The god has many names because Greek culture had many ways of thinking about him.

And that may ultimately be the most important onomastic lesson of Claudio Felisi’s book: to study the history of a name is sometimes to discover the history of the thing - or, in this case, the god - that people believed the name revealed.

Bibliographical reference: Claudio Felisi. 2026. Hadès aux multiples noms. Histoire onomastique d’un dieu grec d’Homère à Platon. Kaïnon – Anthropologie de la pensée ancienne 31. Paris: Classiques Garnier. 669 pp. ISBN 978-2-406-18768-4.

Further information is available from the official Classiques Garnier book page, the University of Strasbourg profile of Claudio Felisi, and the 2026 prize record of the Association for the Encouragement of Greek Studies in France.


VERSION FRANÇAISE

Nommer l’invisible : Hadès aux multiples noms de Claudio Felisi, ou l’histoire onomastique d’un dieu grec

Peu de dieux grecs illustrent aussi bien qu’Hadès la puissance du nom.

Il règne sur les morts, mais son nom peut également désigner le monde sur lequel il exerce son pouvoir. Les Grecs l’ont désigné sous différentes formes, appellations et épithètes. Certaines insistent sur la mort et la souveraineté infernale ; d’autres font apparaître une puissance associée à la richesse ou à ce que recèle la terre. Plus remarquable encore : les Anciens eux-mêmes ont cherché à expliquer ces noms et à y découvrir quelque chose de la nature du dieu.

C’est cette relation exceptionnelle entre nom, identité divine et interprétation qu’étudie Claudio Felisi dans Hadès aux multiples noms. Histoire onomastique d’un dieu grec d’Homère à Platon, paru chez Classiques Garnier en mars 2026, dans la collection Kaïnon – Anthropologie de la pensée ancienne, dont il constitue le volume 31. L’ouvrage compte 669 pages dans sa référence bibliographique et porte, pour l’édition brochée, l’ISBN 978-2-406-18768-4.

Hadès aux multiples noms – Classiques Garnier

L’ouvrage a déjà reçu une reconnaissance importante : en 2026, l’Association pour l’encouragement des études grecques en France lui a décerné son Prix de l’Association, ex æquo avec Les Bestiaires des mages de Thomas Galoppin.

Pour les onomasticiens, son intérêt tient cependant avant tout à une interrogation plus fondamentale :

un dieu possède-t-il véritablement un seul nom, ou son identité se construit-elle à travers tout un réseau de noms ?

Un dieu, plusieurs noms, plusieurs représentations

La présentation éditoriale indique que Claudio Felisi examine les multiples noms d’Hadès chez Homère, dans la tragédie, chez Platon, dans les épitaphes et dans d’autres témoignages anciens. Il reprend à nouveaux frais l’étymologie du théonyme, retrace une histoire onomastique du dieu depuis les premières attestations jusqu’à Platon et étudie les nombreuses étymologies signifiantes élaborées par les Anciens eux-mêmes.

Cette définition est importante.

Il ne s’agit pas simplement d’un inventaire des épithètes d’Hadès.

Il s’agit d’une histoire onomastique.

La perspective devient alors profondément diachronique. Quand un nom apparaît-il ? Dans quel genre de texte ? Quelle propriété du dieu met-il en avant ? Son sens est-il encore transparent pour les locuteurs ? Comment les poètes, philosophes ou commentateurs anciens le réinterprètent-ils ?

Le nom divin n’est donc plus envisagé comme une étiquette immobile, mais comme un objet doté d’une biographie linguistique et culturelle.

La recherche récente sur les paysages onomastiques des divinités grecques va précisément dans cette direction. Un compte rendu récent de la Bryn Mawr Classical Review consacré à Zeus cite d’ailleurs l’ouvrage de Felisi parmi les études nouvelles importantes sur la théonymie et les épithètes divines.

Pourquoi Hadès constitue-t-il un cas onomastique exceptionnel ?

Nommer une divinité liée à la mort ne constitue jamais un acte parfaitement neutre.

La tradition grecque connaît plusieurs formes du nom du dieu ainsi que diverses appellations susceptibles d’en faire ressortir certaines propriétés plutôt que d’autres. Cette multiplicité permet d’observer comment la désignation elle-même participe à la construction de la représentation divine.

Le développement bien connu de Ploutôn, associé à la richesse, est particulièrement révélateur. Le souverain du monde souterrain peut être pensé non seulement à partir des morts qu’il reçoit, mais aussi à partir des richesses contenues ou produites par la terre.

Changer de désignation revient alors, au moins en partie, à déplacer le point de vue sur la divinité.

L’onomastique religieuse rencontre ici une question théologique :

si deux noms mettent en avant deux propriétés différentes, parlent-ils exactement du même dieu de la même manière ?

C’est pourquoi le pluriel du titre, Hadès aux multiples noms, est essentiel. Ces noms constituent potentiellement plusieurs façons de conceptualiser une même puissance divine.

Que signifie le nom Hadès ?

Au centre de l’enquête se trouve naturellement le théonyme lui-même.

L’étymologie d’Hadès est ancienne, complexe et discutée. L’idée de l’« invisible » ou de celui que l’on ne voit pas a joué un rôle majeur dans son interprétation. Mais l’un des aspects les plus fascinants du dossier est que les auteurs grecs ne se contentaient pas de recevoir passivement cette explication.

Ils produisaient leurs propres étymologies.

Chez Platon, notamment dans le Cratyle, l’explication du nom devient un exercice philosophique. Socrate ne se contente pas de l’interprétation par l’invisibilité : il relie aussi le nom au savoir du dieu.

Pour le linguiste moderne, une étymologie antique peut naturellement être historiquement erronée.

Mais pour l’historien de l’onomastique, elle n’est nullement sans valeur.

Elle répond simplement à une autre question.

L’étymologie historique moderne demande :

d’où vient réellement cette forme ?

L’étymologie signifiante antique peut demander :

quelle vérité concernant le dieu pouvons-nous découvrir dans son nom ?

C’est précisément cette deuxième dimension qui rend les recherches de Felisi particulièrement intéressantes. L’étymologie antique devient une forme d’exégèse théologique.

Son article de 2024, D’où viennent les noms des dieux grecs ? La réponse d’Hérodote et de ses lecteurs anciens (Platon et Diodore) reconsidérée, annonçait déjà cette orientation. Felisi y reprend les célèbres remarques d’Hérodote sur les origines égyptiennes, pélasgiques, phéniciennes ou libyennes de certains noms divins, en les confrontant à leur réception chez Platon et Diodore.

Le nouveau livre apparaît ainsi comme un développement de grande ampleur de cette réflexion sur théonymie, étymologie et conception des dieux.

D’Homère : commencer par les plus anciens noms

Le sous-titre annonce explicitement une histoire « d’Homère à Platon ».

Le choix est significatif. La poésie homérique conserve certains des témoignages littéraires les plus anciens sur le vocabulaire et les formules par lesquels les Grecs désignaient le souverain des morts.

Suivre les noms chronologiquement permet alors d’observer non seulement leur continuité, mais également leur réinterprétation.

Une forme héritée de l’épopée peut être obscure ou formulaire. Un poète postérieur peut réactiver son sens supposé. La tragédie peut rapprocher deux noms divins d’une manière inattendue. Un philosophe peut enfin transformer le nom lui-même en argument.

L’enquête devient donc progressivement l’histoire de ce que les Grecs pensaient au moyen des noms d’Hadès.

Les travaux antérieurs de Felisi confirment cette méthode. Il a notamment étudié l’exégèse allégorique antique du « partage du monde » entre Zeus, Poséidon et Hadès dans les scholies à l’Iliade, où apparaissent également des réflexions étymologiques sur les noms divins.

La tragédie : quand le nom devient problème théologique

La tragédie grecque constitue un autre terrain privilégié.

Felisi a déjà consacré une étude particulière au fragment 912 Kn. d’Euripide, autour de la formule remarquable « Soit Zeus, soit Hadès », dont il propose une nouvelle édition, traduction et interprétation dans la Revue de philologie, de littérature et d’histoire anciennes.

Ces quelques mots suffisent à ouvrir une question considérable.

Pourquoi deux théonymes désignant normalement des puissances distinctes peuvent-ils être ainsi rapprochés ?

S’agit-il d’une identification fonctionnelle ? D’une conception rituelle particulière ? D’un jeu poétique sur les puissances divines ? Ou du signe qu’une divinité ne peut pas toujours être enfermée dans une seule appellation ?

On comprend alors pourquoi l’étude du nom dépasse largement la recherche étymologique.

Le nom devient une source pour l’histoire de la pensée religieuse.

Platon : lorsque l’étymologie devient philosophie

Faire de Platon le terme chronologique de l’étude est particulièrement heureux.

Dans le Cratyle, la nature même du nom devient objet de philosophie. Existe-t-il un rapport naturel entre le nom et la chose nommée ? La forme d’un mot peut-elle révéler quelque chose de son référent ? Une étymologie permet-elle d’accéder à la connaissance ?

Lorsqu’il s’agit d’un dieu, ces interrogations prennent une dimension supplémentaire.

Expliquer Hadès, c’est prétendre expliquer quelque chose d’Hadès lui-même.

Les Grecs n’ont donc pas uniquement transmis leurs théonymes : ils ont cherché à les rendre intelligibles.

À ce niveau, un nom peut fonctionner comme une sorte d’énoncé théologique condensé.

C’est aussi pourquoi il faut distinguer soigneusement l’étymologie historique du nom et les étymologies que les Anciens construisaient à son sujet. Les secondes ne nous renseignent pas nécessairement sur la véritable préhistoire linguistique de la forme ; elles nous renseignent sur ce que les Grecs voulaient ou pensaient pouvoir lire dans le nom de leur dieu.

Au-delà des grands auteurs : les épitaphes

La présentation de l’ouvrage mentionne également les épitaphes, ce qui donne à l’étude une portée particulièrement intéressante.

Homère, les tragiques et Platon montrent ce que la littérature et la philosophie peuvent faire des noms divins. Le témoignage épigraphique rapproche davantage l’analyse des pratiques réelles de commémoration, de la mort et des représentations de l’au-delà.

Ce volet correspond d’ailleurs à un autre axe actuel des recherches de Felisi. Sa bibliographie institutionnelle mentionne des travaux sur la fonction des anthroponymes dans les épitaphes métriques grecques ainsi que sur les noms de puissances divines présents dans ce corpus.

Ce croisement des sources est méthodologiquement important : l’histoire onomastique d’un dieu ne doit pas nécessairement être reconstruite uniquement à travers quelques grands auteurs canoniques.

Claudio Felisi : philologie, religion et histoire des mots

Claudio Felisi est maître de conférences en langue et littérature grecques anciennes à l’Université de Strasbourg depuis 2024. Il appartient au CARRA (Centre d’Analyse des Rhétoriques Religieuses de l’Antiquité) et est membre associé de l’UMR Orient & Méditerranée. Après une formation à Milan, à l’EPHE et à l’École normale supérieure, il a obtenu en 2023 un doctorat en études grecques anciennes à Sorbonne Université.

Ses recherches portent notamment sur l’histoire des idées et des mots, la poésie homérique et tragique, la linguistique et la philologie appliquées à la religion grecque, mais aussi les scholies, la lexicographie et les commentaires anciens.

Cette combinaison explique le caractère singulier d’Hadès aux multiples noms.

Le livre se situe au croisement de l’onomastique, de la philologie, de l’étymologie, de l’histoire des religions et de l’histoire des idées.

Et Hadès ne semble être qu’une étape d’un projet théonymique plus large. La bibliographie de Felisi annonce également Les noms des dieux selon les Grecs. Théonymie, étymologie et théologie en Grèce ancienne, ouvrage qui étendra la problématique à l’ensemble du domaine divin grec.

Pourquoi ce livre est-il important pour les onomasticiens ?

L’un des problèmes classiques de la théorie du nom propre concerne la relation entre référence et sens.

Un anthroponyme désigne une personne. Un toponyme désigne un lieu. Un théonyme désigne une divinité.

Mais le dossier d’Hadès montre combien cette définition peut être insuffisante.

Les Grecs n’abordaient pas nécessairement une puissance divine à travers une appellation unique et invariable. Plusieurs formes pouvaient coexister. Des épithètes pouvaient être créées ou sélectionnées. Certaines appellations pouvaient être évitées. Un poète pouvait exploiter leur sémantisme. Un philosophe pouvait les étymologiser. Un commentateur pouvait réinterpréter une forme héritée plusieurs siècles auparavant.

La relation n’est donc pas seulement :

nom = dieu.

Elle peut plutôt être formulée comme :

nom + contexte + interprétation + époque = une certaine représentation du dieu.

C’est précisément ce qui fait de la théonymie un domaine particulièrement précieux pour réfléchir au sens des noms propres.

Un nom propre identifie, certes.

Mais il peut aussi expliquer, caractériser, classifier et interpréter.

Pour les Grecs anciens, expliquer le nom d’un dieu pouvait même devenir une manière de faire de la théologie.

Un ouvrage majeur, déjà récompensé

Avec ses quelque 669 pages, Hadès aux multiples noms se présente comme une véritable monographie de recherche et non comme une simple introduction à la mythologie d’Hadès. L’ouvrage est paru le 4 mars 2026 chez Classiques Garnier dans la collection Kaïnon – Anthropologie de la pensée ancienne.

Quelques mois seulement après sa publication, l’attribution du Prix de l’Association 2026 par l’Association pour l’encouragement des études grecques en France constitue déjà un signe notable de reconnaissance scientifique.

Pour les chercheurs en onomastique, la force du livre peut cependant être résumée par une question extrêmement simple :

que se passe-t-il lorsque l’on écrit l’histoire d’un dieu à travers l’histoire de ses noms ?

Hadès cesse alors d’être une figure mythologique immobile.

D’Homère aux tragiques et de l’épigraphie à Platon, ses noms changent de contexte, accumulent des significations et produisent de nouvelles interprétations.

Si le dieu possède tant de noms, c’est peut-être aussi parce que la culture grecque a développé plusieurs manières de le penser.

Et telle est sans doute l’une des grandes leçons onomastiques de l’ouvrage de Claudio Felisi : faire l’histoire d’un nom peut parfois revenir à faire l’histoire de la réalité que les hommes ont cru découvrir derrière ce nom.

Référence bibliographique : Claudio Felisi, Hadès aux multiples noms. Histoire onomastique d’un dieu grec d’Homère à Platon. Kaïnon – Anthropologie de la pensée ancienne, 31. Paris : Classiques Garnier, 2026, 669 p. ISBN 978-2-406-18768-4.

Pour aller plus loin : présentation officielle du livre chez Classiques Garnier · page scientifique de Claudio Felisi à l’Université de Strasbourg · Prix 2026 de l’Association pour l’encouragement des études grecques en France.