Stock Metonyms

Isabelle Dupre
Brit Lit 2322
Published in
3 min readJul 19, 2020

When I think of metonymy, I think of the roots behind it. “Meta” is a root word meaning change, beyond, or between, and “onymy” stems from the Greek word “numia,” meaning name. Metonymy can be then translated to “change of name,” which is precisely its purpose. It is a type of figurative language in which a name is substituted for an unrelated term, linking together two separate concepts. It is essentially the opposite of a metaphor, which connects two alike terms. Metonyms are common in both everyday speak, and in literature, on both a small and grand scale.

Beowulf is a classic, epic Old English poem dated around the eighth to tenth century. There is no confirmed author nor date, and some sections from the poem are lost to time. It is revered and studied frequently, regarded as one of the most important Old English texts, and even said to have inspired The Lord of the Rings series by J. R. R. Tolkien. It is a traditional heroic tale of the three Gs: glory, gold, and God. A monster unleashes havoc upon a civilization, and a man rises to slay him and becomes a famed hero, gaining riches and nobility, ultimately dying a distinguished death to a fearful mythical creature.

However, the simplistic fable of a hero conquering a villain can be analyzed further beyond the schism of strict good and evil. As literature and languages are subjective, I believe that metonyms are not only applicable to quaint name-swaps, but also to broad concepts. Stereotypes are a concept, and thus labels have the potential to be a metonym. The hero-monster cliche is a stereotype. Too quickly stamping characters as one breed may give lead to uncertainty and contemplation of mortality. In ancient literature, stock characters were often employed to easily captivate the audience with familiarity. The idea was first created in Ancient Greece for means of theatre, but caught on quickly and spread to other media. This archetypal strategy broadens the character to wider understanding, but flattens the true personality. The personal and story arcs are both limited, as the character is already mapped out. Beowulf makes plenty of use of this tradition with its static heroes, warriors, and monsters. One can already guess the ending of the monsters being gloriously slaughtered and the killer acquiring status and admiration.

What is in a monster? What is in a hero? Can they not coincide? When giving depth to stereotypical characters, their supine nature is convoluted. For example, Grendel is presented as a monster, but when we learn more about his motives (“it harrowed him to hear the din of the loud banquet every day in the hall” (87–9)) and backstory (“he had dwelt for a time in misery” (194–5)) he progresses beyond a cliche monster. One might even feel empathy for his situation, despite him being consistently depicted as a “God-cursed” (121) and “grim demon (102).” The writing structure also contributes to this; Beowulf is the protagonist, but he is not introduced by name until line 364, well after Grendel. This prolonged encounter furthers the focus on Grendel, and almost ranks him higher in importance traditionally. Then, is the metonym of naming him a monster because he is a killer? If that were true, Beowulf would also be a monster, for he murders three creatures in the poem, and boasts about killing others as well, such as “nine sea-monsters” while he was in the ocean. I do not think that Beowulf is a hero, nor do I think Grendel, Grendel’s mother, or the dragon are villains. Metonyms are interesting, but in this case, restrict the characters too much.

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