Words&Dirt

Summary:

The Master and Margarita is a work of magical realism by Russian author Mikhail Bulgakov. The story takes place in Moscow during a brief but tumultuous visit from Satan and a retinue of his followers, who kick off all kinds of macabre mischief upon their arrival. Caught up in the chaos are the eponymous Master and his beloved Margarita––two lovers longing to be reunited after a sudden and tragic separation. Written between 1928 and 1940, the novel deploys fantasy elements and religious themes to grapple with the absurdity and senseless violence that pervaded Joseph Stalin‘s brutal Soviet regime.

Key Concepts and Notes:

• This was one of those rare books that I absolutely hated until the very end. Magical realism tends to be hit or miss for me, and this novel’s extreme level of randomness and sheer volume of characters and events was both overwhelming and enervating. I know that the text is rich in symbolism and political satire, but I wasn’t motivated enough to follow closely and ended up skimming a lot. I just couldn’t find anything to grasp or relate to, making this an incredibly frustrating read. I wouldn’t argue that it’s objectively a bad book, but it just didn’t click for me and I wasn’t willing to put in the effort to fully understand it.
• Fortunately, the book concluded with a series of creative flourishes that I found both intellectually impressive and emotionally satisfying. One of my main complaints was that the story felt like a bizarre cavalcade of one damn thing after another with no space for thematic reflection or narrative continuity, but apparently Bulgakov was just saving it all for the last few chapters. There were some delightful passages about the mysterious nature of life, death, ethics, art, love, suffering, madness, failure, and contentment that brought some comforting coherence to what felt like an otherwise-nonsensical narrative (see below for some examples).

Favorite Quotes:

You sensed that she was there, Moscow, right there, around the turn, and about to heave herself upon you and engulf you. (69)

Sorcery, as everyone knows, once it starts, there’s no stopping it. (73)

Stop mystifying me and tormenting me with your riddles. I’m an unhappy person, and you’re taking advantage of it… I’m getting myself into some strange story, but I swear, it’s only because you lured me with words…My head’s spinning from all these puzzlements. (226)

A writer is defined not by any identity card, but by what he writes. How do you know what plots are swarming in my head? (354)

Kindly consider the question: what would your good do if evil did not exist, and what would the earth look like if shadows disappeared from it? Shadows are cast by objects and people. Here is the shadow of my sword. Trees and living beings also have shadows. Do you want to skin the whole earth, tearing all the trees and living things off it, because of your fantasy of enjoying bare light? (360)

Gods, my gods! How sad the evening earth! How mysterious the mists over the swamps! He who has wandered in these mists, he who has suffered much before death, he who has flown over this earth bearing on himself too heavy a burden, knows it. The weary man knows it. And without regret he leaves the mists of the earth, its swamps and rivers, with a light heart he gives himself into the hands of death, knowing that she alone can bring him peace. (379)

‘Listen to the stillness,’ Margarita said to the master, and the sand rustled under her bare feet, ‘listen and enjoy what you were not given in life––peace. Look, there ahead is your eternal home, which you have been given as a reward. I can already see the Venetian window and the twisting vine, it climbs right up to the roof. Here is your home, your eternal home. I know that in the evenings you will be visited by those you love, those who interest you and those who will never trouble you. They will play for you, they will sing for you, you will see what light is in the room when the candles are burning. You will fall asleep, having put on your greasy and eternal nightcap, you will fall asleep with a smile on your lips. Sleep will strengthen you, and you will reason wisely. And you will no longer be able to drive me away. I will watch over your sleep.’ (384)

Rating: 4/10