By JOHN TAGLIABUE
Published: January 31, 2011
STOCKHOLM — Martin Cervall believes that his grandfather was on the cutting edge of a contemporary trend in Sweden.
These days, growing numbers of young Swedes about to marry are not only choosing flatware patterns but also picking new names. Sometimes it is an older family name; more often it is one they simply concoct.
Sofia Wetterlund, 29, was born Sofia Jönsson, and when she decided to marry last year, she and her spouse-to-be, Karl Andersson, were simply tired of their names. “We both thought Andersson and Jönsson were very common,” she said. “Karl wanted something different, I wanted something different. We just didn’t want to be taken for the others.”
The couple cast about in their families’ past and Ms. Wetterlund discovered, well, Wetterlund, her grandmother’s maiden name. “We thought it was pretty, and it was quite uncommon,” she said.
Additionally, “Wetterlund” was in danger of extinction, at least in their family; only one relative still bore the name. So they asked government officials for permission to be called Wetterlund, and permission was granted.
In most cases, couples adopt a new name for the same reasons the Wetterlunds did: to rebel against the hegemony of traditional Swedish surnames ending in “-son” — Johansson, Andersson and Karlsson being the most common. And it does not end there. Of the 100 most common names here, 42 end in “-son.”
Sweden abounds in names ending in “-son” because of an old Nordic practice, before hereditary surnames were introduced, of using the father’s first name, and the suffix “-son” for a son, or “-dotter” for a daughter.
So Lars, the son of Karl, was named Lars Karlsson; a daughter Lisbet became Lisbet Karlsdotter, though she would lose this at marriage. (The practice still exists in Iceland.)
While some Swedes like Ms. Wetterlund rummage through family history for a new name, others simply invent one. Some take names with a Mediterranean flair, like Andriano and Bovino, said Eva Brylla, the director of research at the Institute of Language and Folklore in Uppsala. Others adopt English-sounding names, like Swedenrose or Flowerland; others let their imaginations fly, simply using building blocks common in Swedish names and fashioning tongue twisters like Shirazimohager and Rowshanravan.
The government, which must approve all name changes, places certain names off limits. Trademarks, like Coke, are out, as are obscenities. Names of nobility, like Bernadotte, the family name of the Swedish king, are not allowed, nor are names of celebrities. Obama is also off limits, said Jan Ekengren, director of the Patent and Registration Office, which oversees name changes. And Donadoni, the name of an Italian soccer star, was rejected.
All of this strikes a familiar chord for Mr. Cervall, 44, a management consultant, though the history of name changes in his family goes way back. His paternal grandfather was Bertil Carlsson, and his brother, Vallentin Carlsson. So in 1927 the brothers, wanting to shed the “-son” and feeling inventive, took the first syllables of Bertil and Vallentin to form the surname Bervall.
That did not sound quite right, so they replaced the B with a C to get Cervall, then got permission to take it as their surname.
So Mr. Cervall and his children are all Cervalls. But his sister married an Olsson, and her son, chafing under his surname, received permission at age 18 to be called Cervall, too. “He wanted to be different,” Mr. Cervall said.
Ms. Brylla of the Language and Folklore Institute, who is a consultant to the Patent and Registration Office, said the practice of changing names had been around for more than a century in Sweden as people sought to escape their “-son” names. But in recent years, the trickle of name changing became a flood. Partly, Ms. Brylla said, this was a result of new legislation.
Under the old laws, only those with surnames ending in “-son” or having embarrassing connotations could change their names. But a law enacted in 1982 permits almost anyone to do so, for almost any reason.
“Since 1982, the number of name changes has increased each year,” Mr. Ekengren, the patent office director, said. “The number has doubled since 2002.”
Last year, there were 7,257 name changes, a slight drop from 2009, he said, probably because of the economic crisis and a 20 percent increase in the fee for a name change, which is now $270.
“The reason for most changes is you want to stand out, be individual,” Mr. Ekengren said. “Olla Andersson meets Eric Svensson — they want to start something together.”
That was pretty much the way it was a decade ago when Magnus Karlsson met Anna Lindstedt, and decided to marry. “She did not want Karlsson, and I didn’t want Lindstedt,” said the former Mr. Karlsson, who is now Magnus Pantzar. “When I was born, 7 of 10 people had ‘-son’ names.”
The couple rummaged around their families’ histories and found the name of Mr. Karlsson’s maternal grandmother, Pantzar. The marriage ended in divorce after 11 months, but the name Pantzar stuck. “I kind of liked the name,” said Mr. Pantzar, 43. “People know me as Pantzar.”
With his current partner, Mr. Pantzar has two daughters, who are also Pantzars. Older family members remark how he resembles Great-Grandfather Pantzar. “They say it’s good you took that name Pantzar,” he said.
Still, like some Swedes, he sees a possible downside. One of his brothers took the name Winberg, while the other, Thomas, kept the family name, Karlsson, so the three brothers have three different names. “Thomas will sometimes wink at my father and say, ‘I’m the son that kept your name,’ ” Mr. Pantzar said.
But he added: “In this age of globalization, we need to stick with our traditions. In that, it’s nice to have Swedish names.”
Others share no such qualms. Viggo Johansen, 44, an asset manager, has kept his name but has no objections to the name-changing practice. “If you want to create something new, why not?” he said. “I hope we have more culture and history to rely on than just our names.”
Indeed, support for Swedish names is coming from an unexpected quarter. In recent decades, successive waves of immigrants have been coming to Sweden, and many avail themselves of the laws and take Swedish-sounding names to hasten their integration.
Mr. Ekengren recalled a case a few years ago in which an immigrant family requested permission to be called Mohammedsson.
“Permission was granted,” he said.
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