In a recent interview, Bella Myŏng-wŏl Dalton-Fenkl opened up about her journey into Korean mythology and how she discovered the deep roots of these old stories within her own family. “Growing up, I was surrounded by Korean culture,” she explained. “In my childhood homes, we had a woodblock print of a tiger meant to ward off evil spirits, a print of the ten symbols of longevity, and even a shamanic dance mask. To me, these were just part of the background.”
She fondly recalled her father’s efforts to immerse her in the language, reminiscing, “When I was an infant, he would chant Korean phonemes to me—‘Ga, na, da, ra…’—to help me pronounce the sounds correctly.” As she grew, he shared traditional Korean children’s songs, and even today, Bella can recite the lyrics of “Mountain Rabbit” and “Forsythia.”
However, her early experiences weren’t always smooth. “I remember being around three years old, writing my name, ‘Bella,’ in Hangul with chalk on our driveway. A friend asked if it was Chinese, and when I told her it was Korean, she seemed offended, saying they were all the same.” Reflecting on this, Bella admitted, “At that age, I didn’t grasp why people would make such an incorrect assertion. It was odd to witness a kind of discrimination toward something they didn’t understand.”
Bella’s connection to Korean mythology deepened when her parents gifted her a thick book titled “the big red myth book” around the age of five. “It was a treasure trove of stories from various cultures, but there was nothing on Korea,” she said. Yet, the tales of her heritage were not lost. “My father grew up in a family of storytellers. His mother was a dream interpreter, and his uncle practiced geomancy. They inspired him to become a folklorist, and he passed down the stories, like Princess Bari’s quest.”
Despite her rich heritage, Bella often questioned her identity. “With my pale skin, I didn’t fit the typical image of a Korean, and it made me feel disconnected sometimes.” She had older Korean friends who tutored her in the language, helping her bridge that gap. “We would gather around a small ginkgo wood table, study, and enjoy snacks. My mother would serve us kimchi, recipes from my great-aunt, who was a renowned cook.”
As Bella moved into adulthood, her perspective began to evolve. “While studying at Vassar College, I chose to discuss a wooden statuette of the bodhisattva Avalokiteshvara during a museum interview. I learned that this figure had different representations across cultures. It dawned on me that these cultural nuances were a fundamental part of my identity.”
Yet, discussions about her heritage often leaned towards modern aspects of Korean culture. “Whenever I mentioned being part-Korean, it was usually met with enthusiasm about K-pop or K-dramas. I noticed a shift in awareness of Korean culture back home, largely due to the Hallyu phenomenon, but it often seemed curated for Western audiences.”
Reflecting on her childhood, Bella recounted her first birthday celebration steeped in tradition. “We had a ritual where I chose objects that would predict my future. I picked a pencil, which symbolized a path as a writer or scholar,” she shared.
Now, as a co-author of a book on Korean folk tales and myths with her father, Bella feels she is continuing a family tradition of storytelling. “We merged our passions—my interest in mythology and art history alongside his folkloric expertise,” she explained. “If we lived a century ago, we would have been grinding ink and using calligraphy brushes.”
Ultimately, Bella has embraced her journey as both a writer and a bearer of her family’s myths. “I realize now that these stories were always around me, and my time with them prepared me to share them with others. Sometimes, you just have to write the book you needed to read yourself.”
Their book, “The Korean Myths: A Guide to the Gods, Heroes and Legends,” co-authored with Heinz Insu Fenkl, is now available through Thames & Hudson and will soon help a new generation connect with the rich tapestry of Korean folklore.
