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より魅惑的だったようである、多くは東の方法人々と西間の対照についての中国で学ばれるI名前を利用し、タイトル、私が考えるので多分私達の2つの文化間の深い相違についての何かを意味することを。

中国では、1第1個人としてより大きいグループ、そしてより小さいグループに関連して、そして家族の内で、そしてそれの後やっと自分自身を、識別する。 これを説明するためには非常にはっきり私達はだけ中国の住所氏名を見なければならない。 中国に誰かに住所を書くとき最初に家の事業体か位置に先行している国、地域、都市または場所を書く。 すべての後やっとこれは、底で、人の名前来る。 そして中国に、姓-か姓-最初に来る; そしてに非常に、最後の最後は個人の所定の名前である。 私達のちょうど反対。 そして混乱は東および西部の名前が衝突すると富む。

中国の名前は通常2つか3つの(ごく稀に4)漢字から成っている。 各特性は単一の音節として発音される。 李Hai Boは氏として演説する。 李(彼の姓); Hai Boは彼の所定の名前である。 欧米人の当惑に、音声「ピンyinに」書かれる中国の所定の名前は2ワードとしてまたは時々ハイフンで結ばれていてように単語、または現われるかもしれない。 (例えば。 李Hai Bo、か李Haibo、または李Hai-Bo)。 When Chinese move to Western countries they frequently find it’s better to reverse their names, Western style, to avoid confusing the poor residents of their host country. Thus, Li Hai Bo might change his name to Hai Bo Li. Or possibly, in a hopeless effort to further clarify, Mr. Li might write his name: Li, Haibo. Since the family name is supposed to be first, you can also imagine the difficulty someone Chinese might have explaining in response to the official question, “Which one is your last name?”

A given name in China always has a special meaning, usually bestowed by parents to symbolize their hopes for luck or the character of the child - as in the above case, Haibo means ocean wave. Some of my Chinese friends were deeply puzzled when I replied to their inquiries that, actually, I don’t really know for sure what the heck my own name means.

Unlike here in America, we quickly found out in China that it’s normally considered socially impolite to address an adult by his or her given name, that is unless you are a relative or a pretty good friend and you’re sure you’re around the same age or older. If you know the professional title of the person you’re addressing, it’s better to call him or her by that designation. If Mr. Li is the director of the English Department or a government body, he will normally be called Director Li. A university teacher will be called, “Teacher Chu” or “Professor Wang.” A business person, “Manager Xu.” When speaking about a casual acquaintance to someone else, you’d also normally refer to that person by his or her complete name (e.g. Wang Xiao Mei), and not by the given name alone. The generic title “tongzhi” or “comrade” started fading out around the early 90s right along with the slide from socialism to an open market economy, and then it later creeped right back into some fashionable use. (I’ve heard recently, too, that in some mod urban circles it may now be a codeword to refer to a gay friend.)

Since we left China, the terms Mr., Mrs., Miss and Ms. have become quite acceptable for general business and cordial conversations. If Li Haibo is a good friend who is younger than you, you could call him, “Xiao Li,” which means “Little Li.” If he’s an older friend, you could call him “Lao Li,” which means “Old Li.” Both of these are polite terms of friendship or even endearment and may be used for either a man or a woman.

It’s considered rude for children or youth to address adults by their names, especially by their given names. Commonly children will call most adults “Aunty” (Ayi) or “Uncle” (Shushu). If the adult is old enough, children may use the title “Grandmother” or “Grandfather,” or even “Father’s Elder Brother” or “Father’s Elder Sister.” It took a while for me to get used to children shouting to me as I passed, “Hello, Grandpa!” (Ye Ye hao!) Also, depending upon age differences, they may refer to other children or youth they meet by such titles as “Elder Brother” or “Younger Sister.”

A foreigner’s presence in China can cause some confusion, as people might be a little uncertain what the polite form of address should be. Usually Chinese understand that, to be friendly in normal conversation, many Westerners will call each other by their given names, and some of the younger, more modernized Chinese might feel comfortable doing so, too, now. But, in a brave attempt at compromise, a young person will be just as likely to call you “Aunty Ruth” or “Uncle Bob.” Just as confused about what is proper, English students might refer to their foreign teacher as “Teacher Williams” or “Mrs. Mary.” Many simply feel too uncomfortable being asked to call someone by their given name alone, as is common for us to do in America. In the same way that many Chinese find it’s easier to reverse their names when they move to the West, a lot of foreigners in China find it’s just less confusing if they adopt a Chinese name and title.

It’s also become trendy in urban areas for young Chinese to take on English names. Mr. Li Hai Bo may choose to be referred to as Tony Li. In this case, he’ll probably be perfectly happy to be called simply “Tony” by everyone, Western style, as is the practice in Hong Kong and Taiwan, even though it might still feel pretty strange to him to be called “Hai Bo” by anyone but his friends and family.

Speaking of the importance of names, signing one’s name has little legal significance in mainland China. Since ancient times, in official matters, special seals (or “chops”), rather than signatures, have been what’s required on any official document. Chops are normally ivory, plastic or bone hand stamps with the name and/or logo of an individual, official body or business carved in one end. These are used to make a personal ink impression on documents. Individuals and companies usually have their own chops carved with their names in a unique style recognizable by them, and these chops are as closely guarded as cash. There are very strict legal consequences for counterfeiting or stealing chops, just as there would be for forging a signature in the West. And I’ve noticed that some Chinese friends visiting the U.S. have been reluctant to consider a legal document finalized by doing something as unsubstantial as simply writing your name.

Lisle Veach, At Home in China