The 1910s were a weird, wild moment—right before everything broke. Literature was eating itself alive in the best way possible. Modernism was happening. Women were writing themselves into existence. And the names people chose? They carried that sense of something shifting, something becoming possible that hadn’t been before.
We’re not talking about the 1920s boom names that everyone associates with The Great Gatsby aesthetic. This is earlier. This is the moment before the Jazz Age made everything obvious. This is when names still felt literary in a way that wasn’t quite self-aware yet—when choosing an unusual name wasn’t a statement, it was just what happened when your parents read Yeats or Wilde or the Brontës and decided their kid deserved something that sounded like poetry.
The 1910s names are having a quiet comeback, and it’s not nostalgia. It’s that these names carry a particular kind of literary weight—they sound like they belong in a Henry James novel or a Virginia Woolf manuscript. They’re not trying to be retro. They’re just inherently intelligent.
What Made 1910s Naming Different
The 1910s were a liminal moment. Queen Victoria had just died (1901), but her aesthetic still lingered. At the same time, modernism was exploding everywhere—in literature, in visual art, in the way people thought about tradition. Names reflected that tension. You had ultra-traditional Victorian holdovers sitting next to genuinely strange, literary choices. Parents were reading Oscar Wilde and W.B. Yeats. They were encountering Suffragette politics. They were thinking about what identity meant in a new century.
Unlike the 1920s, which had jazz and defined aesthetic movements, the 1910s felt like a moment of genuine uncertainty. That’s why the names are so interesting—they carry that intellectual restlessness. They sound like they were chosen by people who read books seriously and thought naming was part of the literary project.
This is different from the 1920s boom, which had a clearer aesthetic vocabulary. 1910s names feel more genuinely literary—less about flapper culture and more about the people who read modernist poetry and thought those ideas mattered.
Girl Names From the Pre-WWI Literary Moment
Iris (EYE-ris, Greek) — A flower name that doesn’t feel like a flower name. It’s got that modernist brevity, that architectural quality. Iris Murdoch made it literary; the Victorians had claimed it first. In the 1910s, it occupied a perfect middle ground—traditional enough to be respectable, strange enough to suggest intellectual parents.
Sylvia (SIL-vee-ah, Latin) — Meaning “of the forest,” it’s got that nature-romanticism that appealed to literary types without being cutesy. Sylvia Plath would make it iconic later, but in the 1910s it was the name of someone’s intellectually serious daughter. It’s got real substance without being heavy.
Dorothy (DOR-uh-thee, Greek) — A gift from God, but more importantly, it’s the name of literary heroines (Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, published 1900). In the 1910s, Dorothy was serious and thoughtful, not yet the homespun quality it would gain later. It’s got a kind of earnest intelligence.
Constance (KON-stants, Latin) — Virtue-coded but in a complex way. Constance suggests steadfastness in an intellectual sense—the kind of woman who reads philosophy and stands by her ideas. It’s got that Victorian formality but with a modernist sensibility hiding underneath.
Edith (EE-dith, English) — Edith Wharton was in her prime in the 1910s. This name carries that weight—it’s the name of someone observing society with a critical eye. It’s got a kind of austere elegance that feels like quiet luxury before quiet luxury was a trend.
Muriel (MYOOR-ee-ul, Irish) — An unusual choice even now. Muriel Spark would make it literary; in the 1910s, it was the name chosen by parents who wanted something that didn’t quite fit the mold. It’s got an almost bohemian quality, a sense of gentle refusal to conform.
Beatrice (BEE-uh-tris, Italian/Latin) — She who brings happiness, but more importantly, she’s Dante’s guide through Paradise. In the 1910s, this name carried serious literary weight. It wasn’t trendy; it was intentional. It’s a name that demands you grow into it.
Gwyneth (GWIN-eth, Welsh) — Not trendy then or now, but has that Celtic literary quality that appealed to people reading Yeats and getting obsessed with Irish mythology. It’s got that connection to the literary revival without being obvious about it.
Boy Names From the Pre-WWI Literary Moment
Rupert (ROO-purt, Germanic) — Rupert Brooke, the war poet, made this name literary and tragic simultaneously. In the 1910s, it was the name of someone destined for greatness (or at least thought to be). It’s got that classical education vibe without being pretentious about it.
Oswald (AHZ-wald, Germanic) — An unusual name even in the 1910s. It’s got that Germanic mythology quality, that literary darkness. Lee Harvey Oswald would ruin it later, but in the 1910s it was genuinely interesting—the kind of name chosen by parents reading philosophy and German literature.
Edmund (ED-mund, English) — Edmund Gosse was a major literary critic; Edmund Burke was a philosopher. The name carries intellectual weight. In the 1910s, it was sophisticated without being fussy. It sounds like someone who’d grow into a C-suite but started as a bookish kid.
Basil (BAZ-ul or BAY-sul, Greek) — Oscar Wilde would use it for a character; in the 1910s, it was genuinely fashionable in literary circles. It’s got that theatrical quality, that slight edge. It’s the name of someone who knows how to make an entrance and has read enough to justify it.
Cyprian (SIP-ree-an, Greek/Latin) — Extremely unusual. Cyprian is the name chosen by parents who were reading obscure literature and wanted their son to have the same kind of mystery. It’s got that decadent-literature quality without being affected about it.
Laurence (LOR-ants, Latin) — D.H. Lawrence was emerging as a major figure in the 1910s. The name carries that literary credibility. It’s formal enough to age well, artistic enough to suggest depth. It’s the name of someone with serious thoughts.
Adrian (AY-dree-an, Latin) — Roman, cultured, intellectual. Adrian has that classical aesthetic that appealed to people thinking about literature and history simultaneously. It’s got that architectural precision without being cold.
Seamus (SHAY-mus, Irish) — The Irish literary revival was happening. This name carries that weight. It’s the name of someone with cultural rootedness without being precious about it. It’s got that landscape-worn quality.
Gender-Neutral Names With 1910s Literary Energy
Morgan (MOR-gan, Welsh) — Even in the 1910s, this name worked across gender. It’s got that Celtic mythology quality, that literary depth. Morgan le Fay was in the cultural consciousness; Morgan carries that mysterious androgyny.
Rowan (RO-an, Scottish/Irish) — A tree name that doesn’t feel like a flower name. It’s got that landscape sensibility, that connection to nature-as-literature. In the 1910s, it was the name chosen by parents thinking about Celtic literature and philosophy.
Alex (AL-ex, Greek) — Short for Alexander or Alexandra, it carries that classical weight without the formality. In the 1910s, it was less common as a standalone name but had that intellectual, gender-neutral quality that appealed to progressive parents.
Cameron (KAM-run, Scottish) — A Scottish surname that worked as a first name. It’s got that literary geography to it—the name of someone with roots, with cultural specificity. It works across gender lines naturally.
Why 1910s Names Feel Literary
The 1910s were a moment when literature mattered intensely. This wasn’t yet the era of mass media consuming everything. Names were chosen by people who read seriously, who thought about meaning, who understood that a name was a kind of inheritance. The names reflect that—they sound like they came from books, like they were meant to be read aloud.
These aren’t trendy names that’ll feel dated in five years. They’re the names that work because they carry actual intellectual weight. They’re chosen by contemporary parents who read deeply, who think about literature seriously, who understand that naming is a form of cultural transmission.
The 1910s names are having a return because we’re in another liminal moment. We’re uncertain about the future. We’re thinking about what values matter. And like parents in 1910, contemporary parents are turning to literature to figure out what to name their kids. Which makes sense—the names that worked then work now, because they’re anchored to something deeper than trend.
Finding Your 1910s Name
If you’re drawn to this literary sensibility, ask yourself what appeals to you. Is it the intellectual credibility? Is it the connection to literary history? Is it the sense that this name will age well because it’s anchored to something bigger than contemporary culture?
Check out our guides on literary names more broadly, or explore names that feel old but are actually new. The 1910s names work best when they’re chosen deliberately—when you understand why you’re drawn to them, and when you’re ready to raise a kid with a name that sounds like it came from a book.Because honestly? That’s the point. These are names that are literary. They carry that weight. And in a world of algorithmic content and algorithmic everything, there’s something genuinely radical about naming your kid something that sounds like it belongs in a modernist novel.
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