NOTES:
(Excerpts from Section II and Appendix C)
"Ultimeda" might best be understood via line-by-line interpretation.
First, note that it is "her feet," rather than her face or heart, that this poem's protagonist targets with "hot asphalt." This implies premeditation, as the first stage of a campaign to attack the very base of her existence. Indeed, alternate translations -- e.g., Mösknvorr (see below) -- use "...towards her foundation," which is considered by some scholars to be a more accurate, if not more literal, translation. The fact that the protagonist has "hot asphalt" (or literally, "burning coals") within him suggests either a demonic presence or at least the ability to channel the forces of Hades. Alternatively, this could be a metaphor suggesting that he has simply been demonized, presumably by "her," which might provide impetus for the brutal exchange that follows.
In "hoping to lure a steamroller from the murky death camps below," the protagonist is attempting to summon an instrument of death. Although it is represented here as a steamroller, this (like the asphalt metaphor it furthers) should not be considered literally. Mösknvorr translates the same passage as "enticing I may a vehicle of construction ... thought from underneath a deceased bog." Scholars remain sharply divided on their interpretations of this translation. Some contend that the "vehicle of construction" implies that building an afterlife is an inherent facet of death, while others regard this as deliberate irony. Most, however, dismiss this curiosity as an artifact of the translation process (with the word "thought" an unlikely variation on "camp"). In any case, the use of hot asphalt as "bait" to entice the steamroller implies that Death cannot be manipulated directly, but can be tricked into performing one's bidding. Undoubtedly (and ironically), it is this attempt to cheat Death that virtually ensures the protagonist's harsh demise.
The passage, "architecture of the sky crumbled" (or "structural basis of the air disassembled") has engendered a plethora of interpretations. Most likely this foreshadows the impending storm -- a storm characterized chiefly by its rage. Indeed, storms are often violent, and the protagonist (through extended metaphor, with the storm manifesting his emotions) becomes violently ill, "vomiting hail amid torrents of rain" (or alternatively "spewing ice..."). In stark contrast to the "hot asphalt" expelled previously, the hail illustrates extreme conflict within the protagonist -- the emotions of whom are presented forcefully and seemingly beyond the character's control. Further, it is no coincidence that that his hail is shrouded in rain, with the "ice cold" exterior providing a defense mechanism (in the form of distraction) for the apparent depression, with rain symbolic of these tears.
Strangely, alternative interpretations characterize the storm as her construct -- an "icy cold" reaction to his heated passion, which she promptly douses.
The "legions of cobras" (literally, "lodge of the asp") marks the first direct reference to the serpent -- i.e., Satanic influence -- "slithering within the confines of [his] soul." This further supports the concept of demonic possession suggested by the molten innards. But here, the "hiss" of the serpents coincides with the icy rain (previously identified as depression) neutralizing the vehemence of the "hot asphalt." Thus, the "hiss" is a snake's death rattle, as the serpent's rage is squelched by remorse (i.e., conscience), portrayed here as the ultimate force, an atomic "mushroom cloud" (which, rather tellingly, is described as "familiar").
Mösknvorr translates "familiar mushroom cloud" as "known fungus wisp," which has confused scholars to no end.
The next five lines describe a curious transformation of carbon to diamonds, affected via extreme pressure exerted by her "intestines." Despite being confronted with adversity (the "soot" of the smoldering asphalt), she manages to forge something of great value from it, although she is clearly extracting tangible assets from the genuine emotions he has offered. Allusions to the serpent abound through words such as "constricting" and "potent." Thus, many scholars identify "her" as the Antichrist, particularly considering the passage, "the Fire, now hers alone" (note the capitalization of "Fire"). Paradoxically, this same clause is also interpreted in a comparatively benign fashion to illustrate that she retains the relationship's passion, long after icy rain has doused his. Indeed, this might explain her apparent wrath. But it has also been suggested that this "fire" is simply the logical consequence of the unfathomable pressure required to transform carbon into diamonds. This force is typically exerted by mountains over thousands of years, so her being able to perform this feat implies control over the environment, prompting some to interpret "her" as a personification of nature. (Typically, purveyors of this notion cite the aforementioned storm as being her doing as well.) But in the end, the diamonds turn out to be merely "slugs" -- i.e., simple ammunition now in her possession.
Here, Mösknvorr renders moot the above discussion, offering the phrase, "drawing rectangular worms" in place of "rendering diamond slugs." The linguistic discrepancy is hardly worthy of analysis. "Rectangular worms" are clearly a reference to characteristically flat tapeworms, and their "drawing" implies removal. Thus, she is simply cleansing herself of the relationship's parasitic elements.
"The oily rock" advances the asphalt metaphor. Not surprisingly, a sexual connotation has been suggested -- particularly in light of its continuation: "hardened, I found myself" (or per Mösknvorr, "my greased stone ... rigid"). The explicitness of this interpretation becomes even more tactile if one considers her "constricting... potent intestines" to symbolize a vaginal canal. (And even further, if her voracious swallowing of his unleashed "cloud of soot" is to be considered from this perspective.) However, recall that the asphalt's hardening was expedited by icy rain, which -- particularly given the above interpretations -- seems unlikely to prompt such a reaction. Indeed, the "five bleeding stumps" clearly indicate that she has left him not only crippled (with four detached limbs), but also castrated. Thus, a more logical conclusion is that the "oily rock" simply describes the slippery nature of relationships, where stumbling has no soft landings. Here, "finding" one's self is simply coming to grips with the aftermath and recognizing the extent of the wounds, which in his case prove to be quite mortal.
Finally, she calls upon her demons (directing a "choral of vipers") while he is trapped in this hell ("affixed to this earth"), unable to make the ascent to heaven -- all in the midst of apocalypse (the demise of the troposphere on the "penultimate afternoon"). In her 1999 treatise, "Ultimedia Resolved," Dr. Lori Kördann recognized that "in this context, 'troposphere recoiled' is likely interchangeable with 'ionosphere rebuked.' Either variation implies an ironic euphemism, [but] the metaphor is most poignant under the troposcopic model, for obvious reasons." Still, other scholars dismiss the irony altogether, and insist that this is merely a reference to the quintessence (a.k.a. the "ether" or the "heavens"), in which case the alternate word, "rebuked" acquires an even greater significance -- while under the standard interpretation, the word "recoil" underscores these events by providing another allusion to the ever-present serpent.
"Ultimeda" utilizes the "compressed epic" format to describe a typical relationship. Its reliance on common visualizations ensure universal accessibility, while parallel levels of meaning (shrouded in metaphor, but never hyperbole) offer a complex enigma of extended -- and, in many instances, alternative -- interpretations. This is perhaps the final irony, since all relationships are inherently bound by a single, distinct perspective; thus rendering them immune to subjective interpretation.
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Appendix C: Ultimeda - An Alternate Translation
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Excerpt from "Stumped"
Indeed, the "five bleeding stumps" give rise to such differing interpretations that it's difficult to understand and appreciate this poem without first completing Oxford's (or Harvard's) requisite coursework on the topic. Notwithstanding, the following elucidation is offered.
"Ultimeda - A Rationale Examination" states that "the 'five bleeding stumps' clearly indicate that she has left him not only crippled (with four detached limbs), but also castrated." (Italics added for emphasis1.) In contrast, "Appendix: Notes on Ultimeda" contains the following observation: "In contemporary translations '...five bleeding stumps' replaces the archaic '...seven bleeding stumps' for clarity." For perspective on this apparent discrepancy, it might behoove us to consult the record of visual interpretations of Inocrastoian myth, so that we might inventory the various appendages of these perplexing demons. Unfortunately, such a record does not seem to exist2, so unbehooved we remain.
NOTES:
Ed. note: As the author1 has previously suggested, "a poem might be born in the author's intent, but it lives in the readers' interpretations2." If care to entertain this premise, then there exists no interpretation that is not valid. Thus, by way of example, and for the sake of argument, "five bleeding stumps" do indeed represent five shortened pencils used to draft [the original poem], bleeding out their graphite (i.e., carbon) in the process. Of course, as Derridä3 points out, "language bears within itself the necessity of its own critique," obligating the author to offer supplemental analysis (even if said analysis might be classified as "drivel" or "mindless chatter"). But this, perhaps, might ultimately be the point -- I mean, if that's the meaning one chooses to affix. Then again, having attended neither Oxford nor Harvard, what do I know?
NOTES:
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Ultimeda Roundtable (weekly broadcast, BBC 1)
Dr. Lori Kördann, M.D., author of "Ultimeda Resolved": Yes, but you forget. "Ultimeda: A Rational Examination" assumes that the protagonist is male -- perhaps because the poem is written in the first person, and the author is (by all accounts) male. I submit this is a lame and dangerous supposition. What if the poem were written by a female? Would we then assume that the protagonist is female? If so, how would this change the interpretation? Would this still be interpreted as an altercation having 'sexual' undertones? Would the 'five stumps' still imply -- though perhaps metaphorically -- castration? And, if so, would this be more or less powerful than the original interpretation? Alternatively, what if we retain the interpretation of a male protagonist, assuming still, a female author? Does this become another metaphor? Or does this instead imply that the author is 'hiding' behind a character?
Leslie Mösknvorr, noted "Ultimeda" translator: (laughs) Well, of course, that whole notion is purely academic. A woman would never write anything this inane.
Professor Seward, Harvard University: Mesdames, please. The overarching dilemma -- which I address at length in my 'Ultimeda' courses and colloquia -- is, why do readers, who are otherwise unduely creative in their interpretations, typically assume that first-person characters represent the author? Is it because of something I've written?
Dr. Lori Kördann: Well, even your own literature imposes a...
Marc Weber: Excuse me... I'm sorry, but this is important. Why are there no footnotes or endnotes in this conversation?
Leslie Mösknvorr: (gasps)
Professor Seward: Egad...