Photo by Dušan veverkolog on Unsplash
By Geoff Carter
When I was in my sophomore high school English class, back when dinosaurs roamed the Earth, we read a Joseph Conrad book, The Secret Sharer, about a character meeting his double. This is not an uncommon theme in literature; it is a recurring device in the works of Nabokov, Poe, and various other authors. In this case, the main character, a young sea captain, encounters a refugee, a young man very like himself, and conceals him in his cabin, eventually helping him escape. It’s been said that everyone has a doppelganger, an exact duplicate of herself, somewhere in the world; while it’s intriguing to think this might be so, it is—at the very least—highly improbable.
While I have never met my doppelganger, I did have the opportunity to run across a group with whom I share something similar, but different. One day on Facebook, I—as everyone inevitably does—searched for myself: Geoff Carter. To my surprise, all sorts of people popped up: all Geoff Carters. A Geoff Carter from Manchester, England; another from New South Wales: another from Kent; others from Australia, Ottawa, Rockford, and Connecticut. In total, there were nearly four dozen people from all ages and walks of life with whom I shared my name. Then suddenly an invitation to join The Geoff Carter Consortium flashed on the screen. What had originally only been odd was now drifting into the surreal. Not only was there a large group of Geoff Carters in the world, but it appeared as if we were organized. But for what? What would a consortium of Geoff Carters do? What could we do? Surely there was strength in numbers. Would a brotherhood of my namesakes be able to accomplish more together than any of us could individually? But what? A labor union composed solely of Geoff Carters? Solidarity? Wealth? World Peace? Or world conquest?
And then I had to consider if consortium was the most appropriate name for our group. Surely we could find something more descriptive, like a romp of otters, a prickle of porcupines, a flamboyance of flamingoes, a parliament of owls, or a storytelling of ravens; labels coined during the Middle Ages as “terms of venery” to describe groups of animals, names that very obviously highly descriptive of their antecedents. So, what label would be more highly descriptive of Geoff Carters? Not a consortium. Anything could be a consortium. What characteristic was integral to our common name? An Appellation of Geoff Carters, or maybe a Christening of Geoff Carters? Because, really, all we had in common was our name: an Identification of Geoff Carters? Maybe.
These terms of venery were originally coined in The Book of Saint Albans, aka The Book of Hawking, which also had a section devoted to groups of humans, including a subtlety of sergeants, a sentence of judges, a superfluity of nuns, and a fighting of beggars. Some modern groups might also be readily identified like this; for example, a reluctance of Republicans or a dithering of Democrats. Or perhaps a balance of gymnasts, a strength of women, a passion of priests, or an ego of actors.
The use of these terms of venery is obviously not strictly utilitarian; this is language that fits perfectly into its function and still encompasses multiple layers of meaning; it is descriptive, playful, and—at times—wickedly ironic. Which is what language should always strive to be. The founder of the Geoff Carter Consortium: (I am Spartacus, no, I am Spartacus) whoever he might be, has somehow, in my eyes at least, breathed life into this linguistic spirit of playfulness and depth. While not strictly language-based, his creation of this consortium has played with layers of meaning, raising questions of identity, self, and friendship.
So, Geoff Carter, I salute you!