have always perceived science fiction as a paradox for the following
reason: science, by definition, cannot be fiction, and fiction, by
definition, can never be science. But out of this joyful paradox an
entire literary style emerges: the style of a fantastic science that does
not yet exist. The music of the future. The future of dreamed fact.
Now imagine for a
moment that someone is able to prove that God's creation of the universe -
with everything that goes along with it - is the result of a fantastic
science, a science which is predicated on its own superfluousness, whereby
it drops its product, mankind, into freedom. The "light" of science
fiction is now cast onto the history of Creation and the "Lost Paradise".
And now imagine for a
moment that someone was to write this story down in poetic language: as an
explanation in verse. Of course it now becomes clear what I am trying to
get at, for this is exactly what Ulea has done in her Treatise.
She has written a didactic poem, a veritable Paradise Lost, but
from a point of view that distinctly belongs to "our"
turn-of-the-century. There is no more regret, however, for this lost
Paradise. The devil now also escapes discussion, for even Satan has
become lost. Now one only speaks of angels - and of the person who
associates himself with them. In this case, it is even more than a mere
is certainly not "dark
poetry" in the style of
(T.S. Eliot) or Poema bez geroja (Anna Akhmatova). One could
certainly say that Ulea’s is a modern style of poetry. The story she
tells is one of the most famous there: Adam and Eve, the expulsion from
Paradise, and everything that came as a result. However, this old story
is told from a new point of reference: a determined Universe, from which
God maintains his distance, in order to give freedom to mankind. Mankind
then emerges from this indefinable reference point, and does not even need
Paradise. The constant presence of an angel - one of "God's robots",
whose origin is not accounted for in the Bible - replaces the vision of a
utopian paradise. This is reason enough for the poet to jump in.
I leave it to others
to debate whether or not Ulea is a religious poet. While God is
constantly a topic of discussion, it does not seem to be a God to which
one can pray. God stands for the legitimacy of his creation, he is only
there as the complete product of his creation, from which Adam emerges
into freedom: not determined, but therefore taken over by his conscience.
The angels, some say, are what were "left over" from God after he gave
mankind freewill: bodiless plumage-mutants of the intelligible.
I present Ulea to the
"angelic" reader now. Expect a type of wit that never becomes irony, and,
in a crafty way, also remains serious.