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The folks at the naming firm thought the device looked like a strawberry, Alex Frankel reports in his book Word Craft, with the 32-key keyboard reminding them of the pattern and texture of seeds on a strawberry's surface. But strawberry was too slow a word. Blackberry was faster.

Blackberry is also a symmetrical word -- black and berry each have five letters. It's playful, friendly, seems like something small that can be held in the hand, and ends in a y, which subtly makes it seem approachable. And it fits well with the colour of the device. Capitalize both Bs, and the unusual name helped to make the product become a runaway success.

It's one of many examples Mr. Frankel offers of an obscure industry that has a powerful effect on our lives by naming the products and companies around us. Paint colours are no longer red, yellow or blue but evocative colours like Equator Glow, Yacht Harbour, and Evening Symphony. We have a car named Maxima, beer called Moosehead, and frozen meals called Lean Cuisine. "These brand names are synecdoches -- they represent larger things. By supplying meaning to consumers, brand names assume great worth in the marketplace," he writes.

But this book isn't as concerned with branding practices as it is with the creation and impact of commercial names. Mr. Frankel concentrates on five examples to take readers inside the naming industry -- the BlackBerry, Accenture, Viagra, Porsche Cayenne, and IBM's use of the term e-business -- showing the procedures followed to come up with just the right word. "The field is filled with language crafters, makers of meaning who look at language in a clinical fashion, and who craft new words and appropriate existing words for new uses," he says.

Lexicon, which came up with Pentium and PowerBook as well as BlackBerry, defines five categories of names:

Words created from other words, like PowerBook and InDesign, which are called "constructed" words.

Nouns, like Outback and Embassy Suites, which are "real" names.

Words that didn't exist before, like Celeron, Pentium and Dasani, which are "invented" terms.

Classical titles, such as Merus.

"Compressed" names, such as Optima, which is the word optimal without the final l, or Meridia and Industria.

That's a long way from eponyms, the oldest form of naming companies, after the people behind the product, like Smucker's and Levi Strauss. Mr. Frankel notes companies then moved on to place names such as American Motors and descriptive names like International Business Machines, which were later joined by made-up names like Kodak.

"We are now in the age of the umbrella name. Umbrella names often have no inherent meaning," he notes. "Almost all of the meaning in these umbrella names comes from the education that a firm provides."

Of course, the word wizards stumble, with some of the new corporate names stunningly sterile or just plain odd. After the courts forced Andersen Consulting to pick a new name, leading to Accenture, the consulting companies jumped on the bandwagon, with PwC Consulting becoming Monday, and KPMG naming itself BearingPoint. It seemed a sure way to lose business.

Sometimes, as well, the names aren't original: Names that aren't used for one product hang around a naming firm, perhaps to find a new recipient. Viagra may capture the vitality sought in combatting erectile dysfunction, but it was nearly used for a kidney drug. BlackBerry had been considered for other Lexicon clients.

Mr. Frankel is a fascinating tour guide through this Alice In Wonderland world, bringing his love of words, admirable thoroughness, and smooth writing to the task. The book may be useful to marketers or chief executive officers faced with naming a new product, but will also be enjoyed by anyone with an interest in the commercial names that swirl around us.