In my stories, and from lots of what I’ve observed and noticed in the stories I’ve read – corporate names, brand names are used very little. This feels strange to me considering how they make up a large part of what we see and experience every day.
Yet it's true that certain experiences in our lived past, we cannot divorce from the brand name itself. For instance, if my teenage characters sit in the Tim Horton’s parking lot drinking their coffees, it’s because this is tied to a real experience of what I did as a teen, and no other coffee shop parking lot could capture it in just the right way.
Or perhaps the use will be satirical & cutting; something about its use is meant to undermine it, or us, as a society.
It’s funny, though isn’t it?
From where I sit now, I see Sony, S’well, Logitech, Samsung, and Studio. I am drinking McDonald’s coffee. My boyfriend left a bag of Lay’s chips on the ground. On my browser is open SquareSpace, Facebook, Gmail, and Wikipedia. It’s true that knowing these details, it isn’t integral to this post, to my story. I could have said that near me is my laptop, my water bottle, my mouse, my phone, my stationary.
But I have to wonder if as writers, we’re leaving out some important, integral part of how we experience the world in the 21st century? And then if we are, could it be some unacknowledged resistance of capitalism that many of us have uniformly, coincidentally, silently, agreed upon?
I wonder: Does the use of brand names cheapen our writing? Turn lines into ad space? Or are we scared? In the same way that at the turn of the twentieth century, Modernist writers resisted and grappled with including the telephone into their stories?
Or could it be that the inclusion of these names, perfectly crafted, come packed with meanings already manufactured by wealthy ad agencies that we, as writers, cannot control?
The world of storytelling, of art, I know, it isn’t meant to be “safe.” Literature that is uncomfortable is often what most challenges us into helping us to grow, as people. But I can’t help thinking, that what if, in a way, the world of literature (as opposed to film and TV) gives us a safe space in which stories can be told without those corporate names that seek to shape our lives and bombard our e-mail inboxes with deals and flash bright lights above us on the highway and who want us only to buy, buy, buy.
But then of course, literature's two-faces are revealed: the one that says buy me, and the one that says, don't, that isn't what matters.