ABSTRACT
I begin with an anecdote. I was visiting friends in America and it had been some years since I had seen them. In the intervening space of time, their daughter, Lynn, had been born: she was now nearly two. My plane was delayed, so I arrived after Lynn was in bed, although she knew I was coming. The next morning, I awoke and, from the next room, I heard Lynn calling: “Mummy, Daddy, David, David, David. David, come here, come here now, I want you”. I was summoned; I could only obey! I went into her room and saw a little girl standing up in her cot, half-excited and halffrightened by my image, an image she had conjured up by the use of language, and by the use of names in particular. Naming gives you a certain power over the external world.
