She calls out two names: Bone and Ruth Anne. Bone is an unusual name, especially for a child. It's a little unsettling, recalling skeletons and mortality. What would be your first vision of someone named Bone? Perhaps a man known for violence that left stark white showing through flesh, or a widow, wrinkled and shrunken so that her thinness leaves the underlying structure barely covered? Surely not a preschool girl. We toss away bones, and at least hope to see children guarded and precious.
Ruth Anne, with the two Biblical names and a middle name of a single syllable included, belongs to Southern tradition in the United States. Without naming a location, Allison has already implied one.
Names are personal and integral. They form part of our identity – and reflect our relationships with the people around us. Bone is the name the narrator has "been called" – someone else has given it to her and pushed that identity on her – "all my life" – as far back as she can remember.
"But" – there's a word to create an opposition in a single syllable. "All my life, but" – puts an end to what has happened so far. This is it. She is making a change. "My name's Ruth Anne," asserts a new identity. Now she will carry an appellation that marks her female and as worthy of extra syllables and formality as the other daughters around her. Now she'll go by something that sounds like the name of a person instead of an object.
This is very elegant word crafting, all in words of one syllable and in a simple structure. In one sentence, the narrator is asserting her right to be a person and her conflict with those who called her otherwise. We have voice, person, desire, implied location, and true conflict between the narrator and her society wrapped in a single sentence. Although the short words and short sentence may appear artless, they include many of the strongest elements for an effective first sentence.
Graphic design by Ken Silbert