The Matter of Titles … Because Titles Matter
By Barbara Linn Probst | July 15, 2024 |
Like a first impression when we meet someone new, a book’s title is (usually) the first and most enduring thing we know about a book. That’s true whether we learn about the book via word-of-mouth, an online ad, a social media post, or a display in a bookstore.
The title alone can make us want to read a book, especially if it’s not by an “auto-buy” author. It can serve as a kind of shorthand, especially if it includes familiar words—for instance, in women’s fiction, words like more, know, all, never, once, secret, time, every, and always—which signal that this book will be like other books that have similar titles. If I liked them, I’ll like this one too.
In contrast, the title can be unusual, maybe even a bit obscure. For some readers, that provokes interest; for others, not so much.
So: What makes a good title?
Titles can be “good” (that is, effective) in different ways. Here are some of them.
Simple
The title can name a character (who might or might not be the protagonist) around whom the story revolves. It can be the character’s actual name—Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout, Carrie by Stephen King, A Man Named Ove by Fredrik Bachman—or a word/phrase that represents the character’s identity, like The Huntress by Kate Quinn, The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje, The Yellow Wife by Sadeqa Johnson, or The Flight Attendant by Chris Bohjalian.
Rather than stating the person’s literal identity, it can evoke their role in the story: The Last Rose of Shanghai by Weina Dai Randel, The Memory Keeper’s Daughter by Kim Edwards, The Prince of Tides by Pat Conroy.
A title can also describe the location or setting. Here too, it can be literal, like Tom Lake and The Dutch House by Ann Patchett, Pineapple Street by Jenny Jackson, or The Paper Palace by Miranda Crowley Heller. Or it can be evocative, like The Great Alone by Kristin Hannah, referring to Alaska, where the novel takes place, or City of Girls by Elizabeth Gilbert, which is what New York felt like to the protagonist in the 1940s. In these novels, the setting is essential, as alive as a character; the story could have taken place nowhere else.
Other titles are powerful in their brevity, like Absolution by Alice McDermott, Leaving by Roxana Robinson, Room by Emma Donoghue, Migrations by Charlotte McConaghy, Beloved by Toni Morrison. A single word says it all.
Long and complex
Some titles, in contrast, are longer and more lyrical. Everything I Never Told You (Celeste Ng), It All Comes Down to This (Therese Anne Fowler), We Begin at the End (Chris Whitaker), When We Believed in Mermaids (Barbara O’Neal), I Have Some Questions for You (Rebecca Makkai), All That I Have I Carry With Me (William Landay).
The majority of these examples seem to be five or six words long, although The Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet by Jamie Ford and I Like You Just Fine When You’re Not Around by Ann Garvin, weigh in at a whopping nine words each!
They’re fun to say—like music, they have cadence and flow—and we remember them easily, as a whole.
Thematic
A title can also be a kind of summary. Katherine Center’s titles—like How to Walk Away and Things You Save in a Fire—they tell us just enough to indicate what the book will be about. They’re concise thematic statements, like Stay with Me by Ayobami Adebayo or The Story of a Marriage by Andrew Sean Greer. They signal what the story will be “about” in a few succinct words.
Sometimes, that theme is signaled by reference to a known phrase, like Count the Ways by Joyce Maynard (from a poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning), The Fault in Our Stars by John Green (from Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar), or Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin (more Shakespeare).
Enigmatic
Some titles are intriguing, rather than obvious; they arouse our curiosity to know more. We don’t know what Woman on Fire by Lisa Barr or The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold refer to, but we want to find out.
Being non-literal can be problematic, however. I can’t tell you the number of people who were enthusiastic about my debut novel, Queen of the Owls, because they loved owls so much! I had to explain, each time, that there were no owls in the book; the “owl” referred to the owlish, bookish nature of the protagonist, who learns to embrace and celebrate who she is.
My second book, in contrast—The Sound Between the Notes, an equally non-literal title—didn’t seem to evoke a similar misunderstanding. A lesson, perhaps: it’s okay to leave space for interpretation, as long as you don’t include words that might mislead.
Certainly, there have been successful titles that have nothing to do with the subject of the novel. The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery isn’t about hedgehogs, just as Turtles All the Way Down by John Green isn’t about turtles. Yet these are great, memorable—and appropriate— titles.
Concluding thoughts
How closely the title “should” fit the book’s content is a matter of personal taste. In general, I seem to like titles that aren’t entirely literal. Signal Fires by Dani Shapiro, for example, is somewhat obscure, since it doesn’t actually have anything to do with the story, yet I “accept” it, without understanding why it was chosen. So too, I love Lily King’s title Father of the Rain, even though I’m not really sure what it means.
On the other hand, one of my all-time favorite novels is Idaho by Emily Ruskovich, yet the title has always bothered me. It tells us nothing about the story and I’ve wondered why it was chosen. So too (in my opinion) Hello, Beautiful by Ann Napolitano and Mad Honey by Jodi Picoult. I loved the books but found myself asking, “Why that title? I don’t get it.”
Like I said. Personal taste.
There are many titles that can “work” for a given story. For example, Talk Before Sleep by Elizabeth Berg and We All Want Impossible Things by Catherine Newman are both about a woman’s love for her dying friend. Similar stories, with titles that are wonderful in different ways.
As a writer, can you use a title that’s been used before? Legally, yes. Amazon is full of books with the same title, since you can’t copyright a title. However, there are some iconic titles—like Gone with the Wind or To Kill a Mockingbird—whose replication is not permitted.
Even when the title isn’t quite so iconic, there’s a risk in using a title that sounds too familiar. There are a lot of books, for instance, with the word daughter or wife in the title—why do that, if you have other options?
And be careful about a title that might confuse your book with other books, especially if they’re in the same genre. For example, What Could Be Saved by Liese O’Halloran Schwarz and Those Who Save Us by Jenna Blum are both wonderful books, but it can be hard to remember which title goes with which novel. The best titles are fresh and memorable, as well as appropriate.
Now, for fun, can you think about your own WIP and play with some approaches to a title?
- A central character: It need not be the protagonist; it could be someone without whom the story would have no meaning. What is a phrase that describes the character, without necessarily giving his name? Example: The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson.
- A central relationship. Examples: Book Lovers by Emily Henry or My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult.
- The quest (or question) that provides a throughline for the plot. Examples: Searching for Sylvie Lee by Jean Kwok or The Violin Conspiracy by Brendan Slocumb.
- An important aspect of the setting: Where does the story take place? What is unique or characteristic of the setting that makes the story unfold in a particular way? Don’t be afraid to be a bit poetic! Examples: The Forest of Vanishing Stars by Kristen Harmel or The Light Between Oceans by M.L. Stedman.
- A signature object, image, talisman, or motif. Is there an object or image that reoccurs and has an important meaning for the protagonist? That captures the theme of the story? Example: A Spool of Blue Thread by Ann Tyler. And who can forget The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett?
- A reference to the core lesson, emotional arc, or change in the protagonist. Example: When We Let Go by Rochelle Weinstein.
Did you make any discoveries about the kind of titles you are drawn to—as a reader, as a writer, or both?
Barbara (she/her) is an author of contemporary women’s fiction living on an historic dirt road in New York’s Hudson Valley. Each of her acclaimed novels (Queen of the Owls, 2020; The Sound Between the Notes, 2021; and The Color of Ice, 2022) was a medalist for prestigious national awards, including the Sarton Award for Contemporary Fiction, the Independent Book Publishers Award, the Hawthorne Prize, and the Nautilus Award for Fiction. Her fourth novel, Roll the Sun Across the Sky, launches in May 2025 and has received stellar advance praise. Barbara has also published more than 80 articles on the craft of writing and the writing life. She has a PhD in Clinical Social Work and has been a therapist, teacher, researcher, and advocate for out-of-the-box kids and their families. When not writing, she’s a serious amateur pianist and a traveler to spots from Iceland to the Himalayas. Learn more on her website .
[coffee]
Great post. As a reader, I’m usually drawn to poetic titles or titles that bring a sense of mystery (ex., Woman in Black by Susan Hill). I didn’t know her as an author at the time, but that title immediately drew my interest. Your point about famous authors creating an automatic buy connection is well taken. Ursula Le Guin has weird one-word titles like Tehanu or Baudolino for her fantasy novels, which are intriguing but not clear what it is. For those of us still building readership and reputation, an alluring title is key. I normally pick titles for my novels and short stories that are simple and direct—and safe. But with my new novel the title is an unfamiliar name of the estate, the location of the story; I added a subtitle because the title by itself wasn’t informative enough (Draakensky, A Supernatural Tale of Magick and Romance). Barbara, what is your opinion about subtitles?
Great question, Paula! To be honest, I’d have to say that I think subtitles ought to be used sparingly, for two reasons. One is practical: room on the cover. The title, author’s name, and possibly a quote of endorsement are already a lot of words! The trend nowadays is to use large lettering for the title; with some sort of attractive background art or compelling image,things are already getting crowded … The other reason is my personal preference for letting a title be a kind of invitation, drawing the reader to want to know more. (by reading the back cover, or an excerpt, or scrolling down to the rest of the Amazon page) It doesn’t have to explain everything. It should stand on its own, while leaving room.
In addition, convention requires us to say “A Novel” or “A Memoir” after our titles, at least on Amazon. A second subtitle would be unwieldy.
On the other hand, I know there are books that have used subtitles very effectively!! As with so many things: it depends. But thanks for all your great comments :-)
The title of my first book, Truth and Other Lies, gets mentioned to me a lot as the reason a reader took a second look – it’s tongue in cheek so it catches folks off guard, maybe even brings a smile to their face. One thing that irritates me is the overly bland title, one that sounds like the author took all the trope words in their genre and threw them together, resulting in something so ordinary, I have to wonder whether the writing is, too. Give me a strange and unique title any day over a generic one.
I’m with you! I am drawn to titles that are evocative. One of my new favorite titles is the title of Chris Whitaker’s brand-new book: “All the Colors of the Dark.” It’s strange, compelling: what does it mean? I’d better read it to find out!
I had written a nice, long comment and the system ate it. Trying again.
I grow attached to my working titles but so far none have stuck for my novels. The Last Will of Moira Leahy and The Moon Sisters were named via team brainstorming, but they both felt right in the end. The Last Will of Moira Leahy even provided a useful misperception.
You made me curious about Idaho. I found something you might find illuminating, HERE.
Thanks for this post, Barbara.
(And this time, she copies the comment before submitting it to the comment-shredder…)
Your short comment is perfect too!! Yep, my own book titles have gone through many iterations. And then when the right one appears, you KNOW! (And thanks for the article about Idaho, It’s a haunting book. )
And I agree that a title need not give everything away, Some of the the best titles, I think, are those that don’t reveal their full meaning until after the person has read the book. So the challenge is to find the perfect balance between being intriguing/a little bit withholding, but not coy or offering a false promise. And a title that will be easy for readers to remember when they recommend the book!
It’s important to be memorable. One of my favorite novels has a title that I can never recall. (I won’t name it now — perhaps because I can’t recall the title, ha!)
“And then when the right one appears, you KNOW!” I think this is true more often than not. Intuition yes, name research no.
“In contrast, the title can be unusual, maybe even a bit obscure. For some readers, that provokes interest; for others, not so much.”
This being the case, Barbara, unless the writer is strategizing to “signal that this book is like others,” why wouldn’t the writer please herself/himself? I still regret accepting an agent’s insistence that I change the title for a book she had agreed to represent. At the time, I would do anything to satisfy any agent, so I did as she asked. My own title was one word, Affinity. It fit perfectly with what happens in the novel, but she said no one would know what the word meant. I changed the title, but she still failed to sell the book. In the years since, I’ve come to think that any reader who didn’t know the word, or wasn’t willing to find out what it meant was not my kind of reader. If she didn’t know what affinity meant, my kind of reader would be interested and curious enough to find out.
It’s an interesting dilemma, isn’t it? Sometimes the seasoned professional does know more than the author (as is often the case with cover designs) and it can be good to be open to a broader expertise. At other times, one needs to stand one’s ground. I’ve done it both ways myself. I insisted on “The Color of Ice” because I knew it was the right title, even though the design team was concerned that there were too many books that began with “The Color of …”
With my previous novel, everyone on the publishing team thought my title was too obscure (“The Sound of One Hand”) because too many people were unfamiliar with the Zen koan. I was forced to keep searching, though I really didn’t want to, and in the end the new title I came up with was SO much better! (“The Sound Between the Notes”). So it can go many ways …. no rules, no conclusions.
BTW I love “Affinity!”
You are so right! Titles can sell a book all by themselves, and a poor title can sink a book with great writing. They are that important. Can’t help but add, I wrote a whole booklet, 60 pages, on a process to figure out a best title: Find Your Novel’s Best Title.
Barbara, your mention about Queen of the Owls having nothing to do with owls made me laugh. I enjoy one-word titles or long, melodious ones. One thing I didn’t take into consideration when titling my own, Bound, was that this refers to S&M. Oy. My story is about sisterly bonds, the bonds of love. But the new book I’m working on that explores this family will be called Found. I find it so appealing on so many levels–for the themes in the book. I have another story to explore with this family and I’m desperate to find a word that encapsulates it and rhymes with the other two :) Thanks for an enjoyable essay. Naming characters and books is one of my favorite things.
Now you’ve hooked me! I am cycling through —ound words in my mind as I type! Can it have two syllables? Like: Around. Resound. Surround. Rebound. I admit that I kind of love rebound as in: to bind together that which has been torn apart, and thus to be resilient and have a second chance :-) Feel free to use it!
Oh yes, two and three or even four would be fine…I’ve been leaning toward Underground, but it doesn’t quite catch the theme, but who knows, entire stories have come about just playing with sounds. Thanks for playing with me :)
Well, if it helps shake anything loose, Vijaya, when I was in high school I was in a band that our guitarist wanted to call The Profound Round Mound of Sound.
Not knowing what you’re working on, but ‘Crowned’’ rhymes.
Titles can signal genre too. The word “Duke” means historical romance. Then there’s the X of Y and Z pattern of recent fantasy series. Let’s try a few…
A Dream of Fire and Ash
A Song of Ice and Bone
The Books of Blood and Salt
Wait, are those real series? I’ll check. Then there’s dark irony:
Best Ex-Wife Ever
Don’t Go Home
The Deep End
And let’s not forget The Paris…
…Undertaker, Dentist, Plumber, Piano Tuner, Pornographer…
Yes! Editors are begging for more of The Paris Whatever! Sure fire sale! And hey, what about literary “things”…
The Things We Forget
The Things We Leave at Home
The Things That Are Really Things
My point is that titles can follow trends just as surely as novels do…and fade just as quickly, also. The best titles survive over time not only because the fit the criteria you cite, Barbara, but because the novels beneath the titles are not just more of the same.
Oh yes, The Trends. I alluded to that with my list of words in women’s fiction titles, which often sound like: “Every Time We Remembered Our True Secrets. ”
And yes, there are some enduring books with titles that become iconic because of the stories they refer to. To Kill a Mockingbird, The Catcher in the Rye. The Emperor of All Maladies. Brilliant, lyrical titles. And other enduring books with plainer titles, as cited in the recent NYT “Best of” List. My Brilliant Friend. The Years. Trust.
And yes, a title is just a name. I might love your name, but I won’t want to go on a second date unless I enjoy your company.
Still, it’s interesting to explore the different ways that a title can work …