The Master and Margarita

The problem with modern totalitarian regimes - the most disgusting form of government - is that they produce no art: no music, no literature, no poetry, no architecture, no visual arts. The art that does come out of such states comes from those who hate what they are and oppose them (at least passively). One of the most terrifying possibilities of the 21st Century is that the ultra-conservative/religious right wing of American politics will realize its long-held aim of a totalitarian theocracy. (Another case of the need to be careful what you wish for: the NRA's policy of making sure white supremacists have an adequate supply of Uzis may backfire. If the rightwingers establish their tyranny, one of the first things they'll do is repeal the 2nd Amendment.) The tyrannies of the 1930s and `40s were classics of the form - although reading Orwell's "1984" shows the terrifying possibility that more far-reaching totalitarianism could occur. In prewar Stalinist Russia, the alleged art of the state was "Soviet realism". Even the actual (and therefore anti-Soviet) artists of Russia occasionally felt the brunt of Stalin and his thugs - with results such as Shostakovich's intensely Stalinist (and therefore antimusical) "Hymn of the Forest". The dreary banality of all the arts under such antihuman regimes as Bolshevik Russia and Nazi Germany was almost beyond belief. Even so, flowers bloomed in the virtually sterile artistic soil of Stalin's Russia. Great musical talents such as Prokofiev and Kabalevsky - although no fans of their genocidal dictator - were able produce pretty much what they wanted because their styles tended not to offend Stalin and his cultural goon squad. Literature in the Soviet period suffered even more than music: Russia's greatest writers could publish their works, if at all, abroad. What the government allowed to be published were propagandistic (although not entirely hack) works like Shokolov's "Virgin Soil Upturned". Although the hack writers of the Stalinist period didn't lack talent, the really great writers of the Bolshevik state were obliged to work mostly sub rosa. From the 1920s to the end of his life, Mikhail Afanasyevich Bulgakov lived and worked within the Stalinist tyranny. Denied permission to emigrate and virtually denied permission to create, he lived unhappily until 1940 when he died prematurely of cancer. Paradoxically, Stalin was actually rather fond of Bulgakov, having seen and enjoyed one of his plays. Bulgakov died early enough to avoid Stalin's usual betrayal of nearly everyone he originally befriended (however marginally). The dictator died before he got around to Lavrentiy Beria and some others, but they were certainly on his list by that time. Even at that late date, more than a decade after his death, Bulgakov remained an obscure figure. His greatest work was not published in any form until 1966. This work is "Master and Margarita", one of a small handful of immortal novels produced within (and in defiance of) Soviet Russia - and possibly the greatest of them. The greatness of M&M is advanced by its universality. This is achieved by abstracting it to a large extent from the political reality of 1930s Moscow. While the novel paints a vivid picture of life in the Soviet capital, the Stalinist system is virtually invisible and its founder totally so. M&M could be taking place in the capital of any strongly centrist European state. It should be noted that many editions of M&M exist. The only one you will wish to purchase is this one (translated by Burgin and O'Connor). It is far above the others in the accuracy and felicity of its translation, not to mention its wonderful notes and analytical essay ("Afterword"). The "Master" of the novel's title is in many respects Bulgakov himself: a brilliant writer with little success at being published, whose masterpiece (a novel) seems condemned to nonpublication. The novel in this case is about Pontius Pilatus, the Procurator of Judea until mid-36 CE (the year in which Yeshua bar-Yosif ["Jesus son of Joseph"] was crucified). Some chapters of this novel appear in M&M, allowing the author to tie many elements of M&M together. Bulgakov is well versed in Gospel history, learnedly referring to Yeshua as "ha-Notsri". This term is frequently mistranslated as "the Nazarene" or "of Nazareth" (leading the author of "Matthew" of quote a probably nonexistent older text). It actually means "of the branch", from netser or nezer ("branch") - generally taken to mean a claimed descent from the very early Israeli king David. Bulgakov cleverly gives Pilatus a character that doesn't match what we know of him from Josephus. Similarly he gives us a different Yeshua and Yehudah ("Judas") than we would expect. The "Margarita" of the title, the Master's muse, is in some respects Bulgakov's 3rd wife (and also his muse), Elena Sergeyevna Shilovskaya. In terms of text devoted to her, Margarita is a far more important than the Master. The Master's story line in this work is reality mostly hers. Her name is an important clue to the novel as a whole. Marguerite (Margarita) is one of the names given to Faust's inamorata. In her passionate devotion to the Master, in her uncompromising and uncompomisable innocence, Margarita is a dramatic picture of Marguerite - but more real and compelling than the portraits of Goethe and Gounod. In a literary sense, Margarita as a shadow of Marguerite, just as M&M is a shadow of the Faust legend. It seems equally obvious that the Master must be a shadow of Faust himself. Yet the connection seems improbably remote. The Master appears as anything but Faustian, and rather than immersing himself in the world he has removed himself from it and immured himself in an asylum. Even so, his connection with Faust is palpable and compelling. Faust sought something that was not approved by the mediaeval state: knowledge (particularly of the dark arts). Bulgakov sought something deeply disapproved by the Stalinist state: truth. Indeed, no tyrant or would-be tyrant can tolerate truth. (This, I believe, explains Führer Bush's hatred of the truth and Vice-Führer Cheney's pathological fear of it.) The trinity Faust-Marguerite-Mephisopheles brings us inevitably to the protagonist (dare I say hero?) of M&M, Woland. His name, founded on the German for "where?", raises instant questions about where he is actually from and, consequently, who he actually is. That he is the "devil" of New Testament legend becomes quickly and readily apparent. He begins his visit to Moscow by going after a number of unsavory individuals. That they are of little consequence is a necessary reflection of the fact that going after people of real consequence would have landed Bulgakov in a non-mythical hell thanks to Russia's non-mythical devil (Stalin). That Woland's real mission is salvation - at least of Margarita and the Master - will seem far-fetched to the reader until it actually happens. The question is whether that mission was deliberate - for as Goethe says of his devil, "That Power I serve ... wills forever evil yet does forever good." More accurately in M&M, Woland's mission seems to be insuring that evil begets evil and good begets good. Woland in turn is part of yet another trinity: himself, Behemoth, and Korovyov. Behemoth ("the Beast", one might say) appears mostly in the form of a 6-foot upright cat. Korovyov is more human in form but just as obviously a demon. This trinity turns parts of Moscow upside-down through the use of particularly bizarre pranks. (It might be observed that the prominent presence in their company of an owl and a mirror suggests "[Till] Eulenspiegel", another famous prankster.) The merriment begins almost at once with the death of the unpleasant Rimsky, run over by a streetcar. The image of his head, rolling kabumpty-bumpty-bump down the street is hilariously macabre. Much of the novel is full of this trinity's high-jinks. I'd have to reread the novel with a mind to make notes in this regard, but I suspect that other trinities appear with some frequency in M&M. As the pranks in Moscow wind down, the story shifts gears to focus on the adventures of Margarita with Woland and his entourage. There is a grand ball that takes place in an impossibly large space. This is a reflection of Dante Alighieri's "Inferno". There is then a witch's Sabbath in a remote location. This Faustian episode is accompanied by another, a wild ride on black horses, that appears again at the end of the novel. Throughout, as earlier, it is Woland who guides and directs the activities. Finally, it is Woland, saying he does so at the request of Yeshua, who arranges the salvation of the Master and Margarita. Bulgakov - who has been standing things on their heads throughout the text - thus ultimately stands Christian mythology on its head. It is one of his greatest achievements that he uses the Master's novel and his own novel's ending to add a deep and refreshing humanity to hoary and less human New Testament myths. M&M has lent several sayings to popular Russian culture. Most important of them is the non sequitur, "manuscripts don't burn". In the novel, the Master burns his novel, just as Bulgakov burned the original ms. of M&M. The phrase comes from Woland, but magically produces the Master's ms. Bulgakov, on the other hand, re-transcribed his work from memory. The problem here is, and Bulgakov certainly knew it, that manuscripts do burn. If that were not so, we should now be able to purchase a CD of Sibelius' 8th Symphony. Still, it's amazing how many musicians and authors have left posthumous instructions that certain mss. should be burned, only to have people with a better grasp of reality refuse to burn them. Bulgakov's incomparable novel ends in a chapter of ravishing prose, of which I would like to quote a small paragraph. "'And there too," said Woland, pointing backward. `What would you do in your little basement?' The fragmented sun dimmed in the glass. `Why go back?' continued Woland in a firm and gentle voice. `O Master, thrice a romantic, wouldn't you like to stroll with your beloved under the blossoming cherry trees by day and then listen to Schubert by night? Wouldn't you like to sit over a retort, like Faust, in the hope of creating a new homunculus? Go there! Go there! There where a house and an old servant already await you, where the candles are already burning, but will soon go out because you are about to meet the dawn. Take that road, Master, that one! Farewell! It is time for me to go.'"

This review is for the novel "The Master and Margarita" in the Kindle edition translated by Diana Burgin and Katherine Tiernan O'Connor. I just finished reading this novel for the third time. Ages ago I read it for a college 20th Century Russian Literature class in the Mirra Ginsburg translation, and loved it so much that as soon as I finished it I started over at the beginning without even getting up from my chair to read it a second time. Somehow this edition got lost; probably I loaned it to a friend and never got it back. In subsequent years I tried to read it again, in the P&V translation and in another that is no longer available, but I just couldn't make any headway, and abandoned these after two chapters. I have not sat down to compare line by line this translation with a Russian version, which I also have, but the translation in the version under discussion seems to me to be stellar. It read smoothly and vividly, and captured the movement and extravagant energy of the original. This is a tough novel to translate since the writing style changes drastically in some chapters. Tone and topic are intimately intertwined, and the stylistic virtuosity of Bulgakov is one of the book's primary charms. (Read it and you will find out why.) This edition also has extensive notes at the end, general guidance for making sense of references and allusions, and these are very helpful and beautifully written by Ellendea Proffer. These notes are followed by an outstanding essay on the novel, as well as a brief biographical sketch of the author, and these are likewise very helpful, thoughtful, well-written and not overly long. (These are also by Ellendea Proffer. She really hits a home run with her essay, in my humble opinion.) I am hooked now, and am sure I will be returning to this novel many times. Although I enjoyed immensely my first two readings of this novel, I feel now that three readings is not enough to grasp it. I will have to go back to it, but it's worth it! This is a novel for those who can keep an open mind and who are not bothered by satire or surrealist elements, and who can accept puzzling ambiguities and deep philosophical and moral questions for which there are no easy answers. I am so glad I decided to take a chance on this wonderful translation.

This book is a satire of the Soviet Union during Stalin‘s regime. Written between 1928 and 1940, not surprisingly, it remained unpublished until 1967. Later, following the collapse of communism in December 1991, not only did the book start to sell, the title was added to the list of the essential classics of modern Russian literature. Presently, "The Master and Margarita" by Russian author Mikhail Bulgakov is regarded as one of the best novels of the 20th century and remains popular among readers the world over. The novel has had more than enthusiastic readers. Contemporary composer Stephen Johnson enjoyed the book so much that he wrote the music for a ballet celebrating one of the main characters. Titled “Behemoth Dances“, the work centers on the very large by now famous black cat which, in addition to talking, walking on two legs and drinking vodka, now dances as well. The ballet premiered in Moscow on April 23 2016. After that, additional performances took place during the 2016 summer season in various English concert halls - among them, Cadogan Hall in London (May 12) and Symphony Hall in Birmingham (May 14). I have read a good portion of The Master and Margarita and found it to be a strange book, a book that - like many literary works during the twentieth century - is complex and difficult to read. Some of the Amazon.com reviewers believe that the complexity is related, at least in part, to the translation which they consider poor. It is true, the translation can be poor at times, but I do not believe that it contributes to the confusion, certainly not to any extent: translators Diana Burgin and Katherine O’Connor assure us that they made a very special effort to keep the English words and concepts as close in meaning as possible to the original Russian. There are more important factors that make the book confusing. First, there are too many characters, 63 altogether, 22 of them main characters. That is a lot more than those in most novels. Because they are Russian, these characters have usually three names. It is difficult to remember who is who and playing what part, when introduced to that many foreign people - at least it is difficult for some of us. Then there is the plot. The focus is on Satan and his retinue that includes the above mentioned very unusual black cat. There is also a beautiful naked witch named Hella; and a few other peculiar characters, who run around Moscow interfering with the lives of many members of the literary Russian elite. Also included are the stories of the remaining main characters and their friends, relatives, assistants and others. There are two important settings for the plot, as the reader is taken back and forth from: (1) 1930’s Moscow during Holy Week, from Wednesday night to the following Saturday night to be exact; (2) Jerusalem of Pontius Pilate's world - appearing in the pages of the Master's novel, during the same time of the year, but about 2,000 years earlier. The story begins with the appearance of Satan at the Patriarch Ponds in Moscow, disguised as Professor Woland, a mysterious gentleman magician of uncertain origin. Prof. Woland meets in such a location Mikhail Alexandrovich Berlioz, the editor of an anti-religious journal, and Ivan Nikolaevich Ponyrev, a poet employed by Berlioz. He challenges their atheism with a story, during which we are introduced to the second setting, Jerusalem of Pontius Pilate's world. This part of the novel concerns Pilate's trial of Yeshua Ha-Notsri (presumably Jesus) and his reluctant but resigned submission to the unfortunate man’s execution. Berlioz dies early on during the story after being run over by a street car. The poet Ivan Nikolaevich continues on, trying to understand the death of his friend and employer. Interestingly enough, we do not meet the two title characters, the Master and Margarita, until we are well into the story. We meet the Master first, while still in part one, but in one of the later chapters. We are introduced to him - who incidentally does not appear to have a name (thank God!!!) - at the mental hospital where he has been a patient for four months. The Master is a writer by profession, having written, among other narratives, about Pontius Pilate and the story related to the second setting. Unfortunately, he is ridiculed by his Russian peers for daring to write about religious subjects. As for Margarita, we meet her in part two of the novel, although we are introduced to her first through the Master’s description of his relationship with her. The two were lovers, but the Master would rather set her free to avoid the suffering that their relationship would cause her. She has other plans. We learn that the woman is so much in love with the Master, that she is willing to visit Hell for him. By Good Friday, Satan is having his Great Spring Ball as Prof. Woland, at his earthly residence. At such time, he offers Margarita the opportunity to become a witch with supernatural powers. A spring full moon illuminates the Moscow skyline. The same full moon also lights the night sky when Yeshua’s fate is sealed by Pontius Pilate in Jerusalem. This provides a link between the two settings. Capable of flying, due to her new powers as a witch, Margarita soars over the forests and rivers of the USSR, then returns to Moscow to co-host Satan's Ball. Standing by his side, she welcomes the dark celebrities of human history as they arrive from Hell. In recognition for her assistance, Satan grants Margarita her wish to liberate the Master even though she must live in poverty with him. Eventually, the Master and Margarita leave civilization and fly with the Devil, as Moscow's cupolas and windows burn in the setting Easter sun. They are granted "peace" for not having lost their faith in humanity, but are denied "light", consequently they will spend eternity together in a shadowy, although pleasant, region similar to Dante's Limbo. At the same time as the Master and Margarita are set free, Pontius Pilate is released from his eternal punishment, and walks the moonbeam path to Yeshua, where another eternity awaits. That is the story, which I tried to relate in as clear a manner as I could. If you are not confused, and if you have the patience to read the entire book, slowly, while trying to make some sense out of the many characters and events, you will probably come to the conclusion that it was worth the effort.

The novel The Master and Margarita, by Mikhail Bulgakov, is a masterpiece of the Stalinist-Soviet era of the twentieth century. Bulgakov, in his banned novel, elucidates his vision and interpretation of the period under harsh Stalinist and Communist bureaucratic oppression. These interpretations, not made evident until the book’s release in the mid 1960’s, deal not only with love and devotion, but also with good and evil, virtue and remorse, and responsibility and redemption. Motivated and inspired by Goethe’s themes found in the literary tale Faust, the book ranges from hilarious interludes and occurrences to deep philosophical views of society and political parody. The novel itself interplays three stories: the first concerning the devil (Stalin?) in Moscow in the 1920’s and 1930’s (although no years are given by Bulgakov), the story of the Master and his love, Margarita, and the topic of the Master’s novel, Pontius Pilate and Jesus. Within these three stories is an amazing portrayal of comedy, philosophy, heartbreak, betrayal, fear and love. Woland’s (the devil) attacks on literary society in Moscow is likely a portrayal of Stalin’s crackdown on artistic expression in the early 1930’s. Bulgakov experienced this crackdown firsthand, actually writing a letter to Stalin in the 1930’s asking to leave the Soviet Union. Stalin instead allowed Bulgakov to enter a writer’s guild, although continued to repress the literature and art created by the guild’s artisans and writers. In the novel, Woland’s henchmen, including the personified black cat (Behemoth) and the tall freak with the pince-nez glasses, contribute to this fear of “big brother” with their recurring appearances in places visited by the book’s characters. Bulgakov makes his views of Soviet officials and society in general apparent throughout the novel as well. One official, for example, is seen by office visitors (or not seen!) as an empty suit working at a desk. The suit answers phones, shuffles papers and carries on government business, but has no visible hands or head. Bulgakov portrays other officials who oversee Moscow apartments as apparatchiks with no real direction or knowledge of how to interact with people in difficult situations. Moreover, Bulgakov points out the greed and selfishness, or perhaps desperation, of Soviet citizens in pursuit of better living quarters and money. Berlioz’s uncle, for example, comes to Moscow after the death of his wife’s nephew (Berlioz) only with the intent to claim Berlioz’s Moscow apartment. Of course, he finds it has been commandeered by the devil and his retinue. People crazily diving after ten Ruble notes at the devil’s black magic performance, only to find out later that the bills are fake, is yet another example. Bulgakov daringly plays with themes of religious fear and remorse throughout his novel as well, with the story (as told by Woland and the Master) of Pontus Pilate and Jesus (Yeshua Ha-Notsri). Perhaps this is Bulgakov’s way of defying and making fun of the reality of Stalinist and Communist imposed atheism on Russian society. How ironic that the devil himself has to convince two atheists, Berlioz and Bezdomny, that Jesus really did exist. Moreover, Bulgakov’s (or the Master’s) portrayal of Pilate as having misgivings over the crucifixion of Jesus may be his way of wondering or perhaps hoping that Soviet officials may feel the same remorse for sequestering Soviet society. His portrayal of Levi, a former tax collector who watches in agony as Jesus and three others are executed, may also indicate this notion, since Levi later approaches Woland to ask for the Master and Margarita to be reunited. His portrayal of Jesus as believing that “all men are good” as opposed to Pilate’s belief that “all men are bad,” not only speaks to the theme of the book, but also to the Soviet authority. This speaks to the theme of redemption prevalent throughout the book in that people can be redeemed and can forgive others even for the most heinous of crimes. Bulgakov may be saying that even Stalin’s crimes, although not to be forgotten, are to be forgiven if one wishes to find one’s own salvation and peace. Even the devil shows compassion, putting Margarita through the hell of the criminal ball yet then permitting her to return to the arms of the Master. Hence, perhaps the main lesson of Bulgakov’s work is that happiness is not found by distinguishing good from evil but rather through redemption and the reconciliation of one’s own soul. If Bulgakov seeks vengeance over his treatment by Soviet authorities, he will never find peace. The character of “the Master” is, likely, Bulgakov himself. The Master has been driven insane by the rejection of his novel by critics, who deem it as “Pilatism,” and the censorship of literature in general. His depression and anxiety have landed him in a mental hospital and deprived him of his love, Margarita. Although the Master attempts to burn his manuscript, Margarita saves a part of it which she cherishes in her lover’s absence. The key problem for the Master, however, is not so much the people and oppressors around him but rather his inability to overcome fear itself. Pilate pervades the entirety of the novel, combining the three stories, and is perhaps a reflection of how Bulgakov felt about himself and Soviet society in general; remorseful and seeking redemption. The love story between Margarita and the Master is one of beauty and allusion. The realities of a forced and contrived society rife with selfishness and repression pull them apart. However, their reunion is a symbol of overcoming the system. Although Margarita has to do the devil’s bidding (sell her soul and become a witch), she does it to reunite with her lost love. She is redeemed, however, because she is sincere in her devotion. Even the devil himself is somewhat of a redeemer, as he helps to reveal the stories of Margarita, Pilate and Jesus. Perhaps Bulgakov was speaking here to the power of the human spirit, in that even when manipulated by a devil (Stalin and the corrupt governing system) people can still persevere. Every character, in the end, finds some semblance of redemption. The characters and hence society live on because, as Bulgakov famously makes clear in the novel (as said by Woland), “manuscripts don’t burn.” The Master and Margarita is indeed a masterpiece of literary art. One could read it numerous times and come away with new meanings and life lessons each time. Its themes of redemption and the enduring nature of the human spirit are the characteristics that allow the novel to continue in perpetuity. It is unfortunate that Bulgakov did not live to see the success of his magnum opus. However, if the lessons and beauty of his book ring true, perhaps he does know of its success.

This is simply one of the best works of literature, allegory, and even poetry, ever put together. It took decades for Mikhail Bulgakov to write this actually, and over the past century, his Faustian flavored tale about the nature of people and the power religion vs. the state vs. the devil knows.... has become a cult classic in Russia. Note that this is pure Bulgakov (as author) and this listing names one of the 2 wonderful translators who collaborated on getting the flavor of the language just right. They make it clear that this was a total collaboration of expert translators. At the end they offer additional notes about some of the details and finer points of history or the Russian language. There are also some additional passages included for the first time, which the earlier translation omitted. I read this when it was first translated (80s?) and a college friend who had escaped from Communism insisted I read this. It was great then, as literature, human drama, and superb writing. Bulgakov amassed a huge following once his work was actually published, after his death. Some of his work is only now being published and read. I recently found myself in front of Flat #50, near Patriarchs Ponds (Moscow), the setting where the first part of this addictive novel begins. Berlioz (in the guise of literary czar, not the famous composer) is arguing with a poet about the existence of G-d when interrupted by, who the devil knows, but soon it is clear that literary and bureaucratic Moscow have become friends to the devil. Mr. Woland and his interesting entourage are about to put on a show at the theater, promising to be magical. Great book. Like other great Russian *stories*, this captures human nature, anguish, curiosity and the variations in the rules of right/wrong, possible/impossible. It's quite a ride through the supernatural as well as theological and even medical., If you immerse yourself in it, you'll see many foreshadows of Harry Potter magic. Serious must read, for the adventure, mystery, the Faustian morality play, which takes pokes at both religion and "civil" humankind. A#1 recommend - and it may help to understand Russian (and human) psychology, and how we use words to invent smoke, mirrors, and fables which mirror life and death and love.

Wow-just WOW! Bulgakov simply blew me away with his dark & very eastern-block humor, twisted ironies, brilliant metaphors, infinite layers of meaning, his surrealist aesthetic and refusal to follow any "rules" of any particular genre. Within a few chapters, this book quickly moved up to my #1 Most Brilliant Books Ever Written list, and after the last pages, I have a feeling it will stay here for a long time (perhaps until I take up Gogol, or so I am told). There are many layers to this novel, a plethora of imagery, metaphors, and references that have been studied in hundreds of scholarly articles and tens of thousands of journalistic/reviewer articles, so I will not attempt to gloss superficially over any themes. Rather I will focus on the ironic humor, which touched me most profoundly, as a person born and raised under Ceausescu's regime (Romania). Ironic, tragic, dark and depressing humor was central to Eastern European resistance to communism, and served a healing as well as communal/relational function. Even today, visiting Bucharest, the dark humor remains, and is spoken, without reservation, between strangers at bus stations, intimate family members, colleagues at the office, etc--it is a key thread of our identity and how we relate to and understand the world. I have never ready any work that captures this humor better than Bulgakov. A process that is emphasized in the literature on communism is the development of a duality of psychic space, a mode of schizophrenic resistance. To many who sought refuge in books and humor, this fragmentation transformed into a positive experience: a honed, rich duality was a sign of strength, showing how one could successfully detach herself from the absence of things and to fill space with meaning in spite of adversity. These processes were transmitted historically, and taught one how to survive without alienating oneself psychologically. Andrei Pleşu remembers humor about lack as a "prop of survival". Oana-Maria Hock remembers the theatre as providing a "surrogate toughness", a form of resistance in the face of material insecurity. In a place in which material necessities were difficult to come by, disassociation, particularly through artistic release, served to create spaces of plenty. Even though this work may be read by any audience, and though most find it brilliant, it particularly speaks to those who have lived through the horrors of Eastern-block communism and its historical particularities in this region; the humor especially is not only deeply ironic and depressing, but also is born of an experience difficult to describe if one has not lived it: the reference, for example, to "second-grade-fresh" fish. It may seem superficially funny to anyone who has not experienced rationing as a way of life, but the phrase has many layers of meaning: first, as a reference to the rationing process/how hard it was to find food, second as a reference to the Eastern-block communist way of meticulously categorizing all things (such as different grades of products, of which "first grade" was of course never available to the non-connected citizen), third as reflection of how people in this region relied on deeply disturbing humor to pacify, at least temporarily, their disquietude, fourth, illustrating the peculiarities of communication during this time (when everything had at least a double meaning, under the politically correct and allowed language), and fifth, it brings back the embodied feeling itself of how one used to imagine the world before 1989--it is absolutely *visceral*, because this is EXACTLY how people talked. Everything was a private joke--and every comment was either ironic or meant something other than what it actually said. Another example: in the Epilogue, when Bulgakov takes on the narrator role and tells us what happened after the Devil left Moscow, he first mentions the plight of black cats: "A hundred or so of these peaceful animals... were shot or otherwise destroyed in various parts of the country"... The ridiculousness of his concern for the cats considering circumstances is another perfect example of the twisted humor used during this period as a means of resistance. Further, Bulgakov continues his story, citizens were goaded into public vigilantism of capturing black cats and reporting with them to police stations; there is even a story of a woman who comes to a station to vouch for the "character" of her cat. Clearly, this is not a story about cats, but a reference to the Secret Police, the dreaded disappearances, and the ways in which regular citizens were complicit in the process--yet at the same time, it is also a story about how Eastern block policies/dictators actually did value "cats"/animals above people (not to mention that people were treated AS animals, another double meaning). In an even darker twist, after several pages, Bulgakov moves on from the cat stories: "Besides the cats, there were a few people who suffered some minor unpleasantness. Several arrests were made... A lot of other things happened, but one can't remember everything." And with this poignant reference to the communist culture of "forgetting" (scrubbed history books, banned authors, emphasis on the present and future at the expense of the past incarnated in communist policies, purging of national archives, etc) Bulgakov ends by reminding us of the dark and tragic experience of Eastern-Block communism.

I have mentioned before in a distant review of the past that each book has a "moment of truth," that shimmering macrosecond where the reader either becomes hooked (and therefore can't wait to finish the work), or disappointed (whereby the book is either put aside, or finished grudgingly). For me, alas, Bulgakov's THE MASTER AND MARGARITA evoked the latter, although I finished the book and readily appreciated the author's rather fantastic and satirical story of Satan and his pesky retinue wreaking havoc in 1930s Moscow. That Mikhail Bulgakov is an exceptional writer is a given; if only I was fluid in Russian where I could read his words as written I would no doubt be even more impressed with his prose and style. This Vintage Press edition (translated by Diana Burgin and Katherine Tiernan O'Connor) certainly pays homage to this classic with a meticulous eye for detail, followed by notes on each chapter that I found to be invaluable. So then, what's the problem? Well, I enjoy humor and satire as much as the next guy (I suppose), but a story depicting Satan as some sort of instrument of salvation--an instrument in alliance with Yeshua--for the book's two protagonists was just. . .too much. The Master, a writer who cannot endure the pain of rejection, is one-dimensional and sullen, while Margarita, his love, becomes a willing pawn of the devil. And the story blithely suggests that death through its mortal release is preferable to life (which is understandable, given Bulgakov's failing health as he finished the book). The fantastic notion of the story--of illusion, madness, a huge talking cat, flying through the air, and a Satanic ball--is a clever device, but eventually it wears thin. As a playwright, Bulgakov uses an abundance of theater officers, bureaucrats, and authors as unhappy victims of Satan's antics (no doubt the author was settling countless scores); unfortunately, the names of these characters are in Russian, and many of the names vary by a vowel or a letter, making it very difficult for the reader to keep track of "who's who." And the parallel story of Pontius Pilate and the crucifixion--told from a political, not spiritual, perspective--was interesting, yet bizarre. In fact, "bizarre" is a good word to describe THE MASTER AND MARGARITA in its entirety; it's an interesting, fantastic, metaphysical tale, yet requires too much suspension of disbelief. --D. Mikels

This amazing book can be interpreted at several levels or just read for the sheer enjoyment of the bazaar antics of all the characters. I found it to be full of profound concepts wrapped in a chaotic and fantastic romp of a good story. First, I thought the story was a tale of revenge. Bulgakov was highly discriminated against and his work suppressed throughout his career and life. A genius' work is smothered by Soviet brainless censors while a literaray elite develops composed of talentless writers and editors who only push the Communist Party line. Bulgakov has these nit-wits become the play-toys of the Devil in a story of hilarious dark comedy. Bulgakov never got revenge against the system that impoverished him until after his death when readers laugh at the incredible uncomfortable situations the Devil creates for the Moscow talentless literary elite. Second, the tale is a satiric critique of the Soviet system under Stalin. Many Soviet methods of social control, such as apartment assignments by the state, set the stage for wild adventures for Soviet citizens caught in this overly centralized society. The chapter on the Soviet authorities trying to take over the apartment of the be-headed editor from the Devil and his assistants is some of the most clever satire ever written. The magic shows performed by the Devil in a state-owned theater was a perfect commentary on the weaknesses of the Soviet system. Third, the novel is a superb essay on the killing of God as a political act. The Devil is delighted to come to the Soviet Union where belief in God is under attack and atheists rise to positions of power and status. The Soviets tried to kill God to better control their citizens. The genius of this book is that Bulgakov tells us the tale of Pontius Pilot and the High Priest of Jerusalem playing a careful came of strategy with the life of Jesus Christ. Both men had reasons to kill Jesus so that they could both maintain political power. But these two men are wise and they wish for the other party to take the blame for the crucifiction. Since Jewish law did not allow for the death penalty, the High Priest must manipulate Pilot to give the orders. However Pilot uses spys and murderers to cast blame back on the Jewish leadership by murdering Judas and throwing thirty silver pieces into the home of the High Priest. God must always be killed/maimed/distorted for a totalitarian government to maintain control. Suppression of God doesn't simultaneously suppress the Devil. Fourth, the events related in the story are extremely fun to read. The encounter with the Devil in the public park, the scenes in the dead editor's apartment, the magic show, the insane assylum, the Devil's ball, the flashbacks to Jerusalem, all will stick in your mind for days after you finish the book. This novel was finally released after Bulgakov had been dead for 30 years. The Devil in the story predicts this future when he says: "Manuscripts don't burn."