Empire in Space: Why Yeshkilev's *Farengo* Is a True Space Opera

Volodymyr Yeshkilev’s fantasy epic *Farengo*, which we will have the opportunity to see in Odessa this June, is described by the publisher (Georges, 2026) as “the first Ukrainian space opera.” For Yeshkilev, a prolific writer from Ivano-Frankivsk, this is not his first large-scale project. He once provided a theoretical framework for the Stanislavsky phenomenon, and his prose is conventionally divided into four main categories on Wikipedia: historical, fiction, art-house, and conspiracy. Moreover, the trilogy was already published by Yaroslaviv Val Publishing House about ten years ago. The first book, The Shadow of the Predecessor, appeared back in 2011.

Of course, one can debate whether Farengo is truly the first Ukrainian space opera. For example, Henry Lyon Aldy’s Oikoumena series appeared earlier, but was written in Russian and published in Russia. However, another question is more interesting here: what exactly is considered space opera today? Where is the line between it and science fiction? After all, the first edition of Farengo explicitly defined the series as “science fiction.”

In general, I believe that the presence and popularity of national science fiction (including space opera) is a sign of a healthy society with a healthy vision of the future. It is in this context that the popularity of Kidruk’s Colony, as well as the reissue of Fahrenheit, is very inspiring. But first, let’s look at space opera. Yes, there are certain markers that distinguish space opera from science fiction. First of all, it’s the ease with which the protagonists travel through space, despite the laws of physics and distances of light-years. To achieve this, quasi-scientific concepts are employed, such as dark matter, wormholes, hyperspace, and so on. However, these elements alone do not make a work a space opera. For example, Interstellar also makes extensive use of similar ideas, yet it is never a space opera.
Another characteristic feature is the presence of mysterious artifacts, traces of ancient civilizations, and the so-called Forerunners. Such motifs often appear in the works of Andre Norton, but are almost absent, for example, in Henry Lyon Oldie’s Oikoumena, Dune, or Lois McMaster Bungle’s large-scale cycle about Miles Vorkosigan.

Space opera also often tends to be mystical: psychic abilities, prophecies, secret orders. In Dune or Oikoumen, such elements play an important role, while in Budgold they do not. The same applies to other intelligent races: in some cycles they are present, in others the authors limit themselves to various forms of humanity itself—bioconstructions.

An important feature of space opera is its scale: multiple planets, multiple worlds, a large cast of characters, and movement from planet to planet. At the same time, scale alone is not a defining criterion. For example, Isaac Asimov’s “Foundation” is a large-scale epic, yet it is still classified as science fiction.

Of course, space opera cannot do without space wars—in almost all of these texts, someone is at war with someone else in space.

Therefore, space opera is a genre with rather fluid boundaries. At the same time, all of these works share two common features. First, space opera involves events on a truly cosmic scale. Second, the stories feature a vast plot that spans many books.

It is significant that in Farengo, all these typical features of space opera are present. That is, there are secret societies of the Carriers of Higher Knowledge (something like the Bene Gesserit in Dune), there are telepaths, there are remnants of ancient civilizations (like Andre Norton’s Space Sargasso), there is a hostile Lizard civilization, there are military space bases, there are evil, voracious creatures from the abyss, there is humanity that has settled in space, and there are bioconstructs. Of course, everyone moves from planet to planet in violation of the laws of physics. It is not at all surprising that Yeshkilev, a philosopher by profession and a cultural critic at heart, is well versed in genres. And if he does something, he does it by the rules.

Vladimir Yeshkilev. PHOTO: Nadiia Dutchak

But here I will highlight one more feature typical of space operas: the combination of sophisticated, advanced technologies with archaic social structures. Simply put, space opera is almost always about the Empire. About its rise, its fall (more often about the fall), about rebels, about rebellions, about rebellions against rebellions, about intrigues on a cosmic scale. And the Empire is always about rigid caste and hierarchy, whether in Dune, the Forkosigan Cycle, or Oikoumen. The world of Fahrenheit is no exception: the lower rung of the hierarchy is occupied by clones, the higher rung by old families, most of which are said to have had traitors, smugglers, bandits, and pirates as their founders.

Yeshkilev himself notes that the rise of empires is as much a necessary element of the historical cycle as the fall. And it is these processes that the author explores in Farengo. Here we must pay tribute to his historical sensitivity, because The Shadow of the Predecessor, the first part of the Fahrenheit cycle, was published in 2011. In the novel, we see a detailed description of the combat operations of unmanned military vessels and drones (space drones, of course). I even thought the author had updated the text slightly upon its reissue, taking modern realities into account. But when asked, he replied that he had limited himself to only minimal editorial changes. By the way, I had never seen anything like this in space operas before.

Yeshkilev is a good forecaster. In an interview with Natalia Dudko on the website of the Lviv City Council’s newspaper Ratusha, he said back in 2012 that “…the future will be more rigid, totalitarian, and less humane.” This is what we are witnessing now. This is the future the writer constructs in Farengo. Of course, when you foresee something, it doesn’t happen exactly there, exactly that way, or exactly at that time. But any model teaches us to accept the cruel reality.

And then there is the matter of our own reality, the actual one. I am used to space in space operas revolving around a central character or a small number of characters we sympathize with and identify with. Here, Yeshkilev is honest with us. There is no “boy who survived,” no hero with physical or mental disabilities who prevails because of his abilities, Destiny, Fate, or hypercompensation... The story is driven by the clash of rebellions and intrigues, the confrontation of the intentions of different communities, and the interplay of intelligence. A single person can do little here. Alliances rise and fall, everyone wants something—often different things... At least it’s honest, and it sets Farengo apart from other space operas. But this elevates our engagement with the text to the level of an intellectual game. Because in reality, there is no Count of Monte Cristo, no Odysseus, and not even a Harry Potter in this grand narrative. It turns out that the fate of humanity is steered in the right direction by people who are far from perfect, and sometimes not even very nice.

I want to talk about the downside, which is a continuation of the upside. If everyone has their own truth and lies, if the wheels of history are driven by the interaction of many actors in different parts of the inhabited Cosmos, if it is impossible to single out the main protagonist (in fact, it is in space operas that good and evil are clearly separated), then we risk losing part of what makes us turn the pages with anxiety and hope in anticipation of further events. By the way (though I may be too picky), I was a little surprised at the beginning by the “earthly” animal metaphors and associations—salmon-colored light, a character waving his hand as if to shoo away a fly, thoughts that jump like squirrels, etc. Given that some of the characters did not grow up on Earth, such a passion for terrestrial fauna is a bit surprising.

Finally, I would like to mention the very nice, aesthetic design of the new edition. As for me, the only chance for a paper book to survive as a phenomenon is to turn into an art object. Such an edition, with its stylish cover, colorful borders, and paper that feels pleasant to the touch, can decorate any bookshelf.

Марія Галіна