Recently, Koreans have been buoyed by the global surge of K-culture, covering a gamut of genres from K-pop, K-dramas and K-food. However, the true essence of Korean culture cannot be transmitted faithfully and comprehensively through popular culture alone. It is vital, therefore, that we promote K-books, the embodiment of Korean ethos and mythos, internationally. 

For K-books, especially K-literature, to gain ground in the global arena, it is essential that they be published overseas. In particular, it is important to have books published by major international publishing houses and to have media outlets carry book reviews. The problem is that major publishers are disinclined to take on books with limited commercial appeal. Foreign publishers are reluctant to publish Korean literature in translation for the same reason.

Aside from the grim prospect for meager commercial profits, other obstacles hamper the success of K-books in the international market. At the 2015 International Workshop for Translation and Publication of Korean Literature held at Sejong Cultural Center on Oct. 6, Ed Park, novelist and editor at Penguin Press, pointed out that one decisive disadvantage of K-books is the author’s Romanized Korean name on the book cover. Park cautiously raised a compelling question: “Is there something about the way Korean names are rendered in English that might impede the absorption of the many great Korean novels and story collections into the American reading public?”

The answer is probably “Yes.” Indeed, Korean names, especially when they are spelled in English, sound alien to the foreign ear. Korean names also look awkward with “a double-o and a hyphen.” Undeniably, American readers will find it difficult to pronounce or remember Korean names correctly, such as Hwang Sok-yong, Jang Jung-il or Jang Eun-jin. Park argues that unlike Korean names, “Japanese names, in English, have a richness of rhythm.” Indeed, Japanese names such as Murakami Haruki or Oe Kenzaburo would not be that difficult for Westerners to pronounce or remember. Neither would Chinese names such as Lu Hsun and Mo Yan.

For example, what non-Korean could possibly pronounce or remember such a difficult, strange name as Kim Seong-kon? All my life, I have had trouble with my name. While conversing in English, you are supposed to call the other party by his or her first name if you want to sound nice and friendly. Unfortunately, my American or British friends seem to have given up calling me by my first name, which is not easy for them to pronounce or remember.

They tried to give me an English name, instead. My friend John Nicklas once called me Stephen, knowing that I liked Stephen Dedalus, the rebellious artist and protagonist of James Joyce’s “Ulysses.” But it did not sound right to me. Michael Frisch, another friend of mine, suggested I use the English name Sonny. But it sounded too similar to Sunny, a woman’s name. Besides, Sonny was the name of a horrendously bad-tempered mobster in the movie “Godfather.” So I gave it up too. My former colleague at Pennsylvania State University Caroline D. Eckhardt called me Sean, which was similar to my Korean name in spelling. So I kind of liked the name. However, when I would introduce myself as Sean to people of Irish origin, they would all find it hilarious, saying, “It’s an Irish name, you know.” So I decided to go back to Seong-kon. The problem is that few foreigners can pronounce or remember my name correctly.

Another problem is the order of the surname and the first name. Unlike the above-mentioned writers, Shin Kyungsook writes her name as Kyung-sook Shin, following the Western style, on her books published in foreign languages. Surely, foreign readers will be confused, not knowing which one is the first name and which one the surname when they encounter Korean authors’ names. The confusion is doubled as scholarly journals and books Romanize Korean writers’ names in accordance with the McCune-Reischauer system preferred by the academic circle. The McCune-Reischauer system puts Kyung-sook Shin as Sin Kyong-suk. But “sin” is not exactly anyone’s first choice for a name, let alone “suk.”

The internationally renowned novelist Yi Mun-yol has had his name spelled as many as 12 different ways: Lee Mun-yol, Yi Moon-yeol, Lee Moon-yol and so on. To do away with this confusion, LTI Korea recently collated all these variations in spellings and created a database of names preferred by Korean writers. Nevertheless, Korean names still do not sound right to the Western ear.

In order to overcome the disadvantage of Korean names, Park suggests the following: “But if increased attention in America is a goal, I wonder if Korean authors — and those who promote them — should at least contemplate how their name will appear on the cover.” Then Park continues, “The answer might be abbreviation or adumbration.” He has a point. The problem is that Korean writers would be very reluctant to use abbreviations instead of their names. They would argue that Chang-rae Lee does not seem to have any problem with his Korean name. In his case, however, Lee is an American name as well and Chang-rae does not sound that strange to the American ear. In his presentation, Park said he found Korean novelist’s name Hailji a fine example, since international readers can easily pronounce and remember it.  

It is regrettable that Korean names have serious disadvantages, compared to Japanese or Chinese names. Perhaps, our writers may want to adopt easy yet charming pen names so international readers can pronounce and remember them, which might prove to be the first step to gaining increased attention in the international market.  

By Kim Seong-kon

Kim Seong-kon is a professor emeritus of English at Seoul National University and president of the Literature Translation Institute of Korea. — Ed.