Number 32 - The Master and Margarita - Mikhail Bulgakov

 

Nearing the end of the cats on the cover theme…

The Master and Margarita is a classic of Russian literature and Mikhail Bulgakov’s most famous work. It’s not an easy read. Any Russian novel written between the two world wars is going to be a challenge for a casual reader and this is no exception (and I admit that, even though I keep this blog, I am a casual reader and read for pleasure. This blog is merely an attempt to tell people which books achieve this aim or not, and why).

The Devil has come to Stalin era Moscow and he’s brought some troublesome friends. We first meet him when he encounters a poet and an editor arguing about the existence of Jesus in the street. He tells them the “true” story of Pontius Pilate passing sentence. He goes on to predict the imminent violent death of the editor, and the incarceration in a mental hospital of the poet. These predictions rapidly come to pass and he moves into the deceased man’s apartment, from where he starts his reign of chaos over the city.

The style of writing is convoluted, and every character has at least three different names they’re known by, and these names are used completely randomly which makes things occasionally difficult to follow.

Fortunately, last week I was away and removed from all normal life distractions, so I had most of the week to sit and read. If I hadn’t, I would probably have taken 4 weeks or so to get through this. As it was, it took me 4 days.

I won’t lie. I did struggle to get into this one. It took till about page 200 before the style finally clicked. From the séance in the theatre onwards this was a pleasure to read. Prior to that there were flashes of brilliance, but it was difficult. 

Despite this I do think that this is a work of genius by most metrics. It’s surreal. It’s funny. It’s occasionally shocking. It seems to have quite a modern sensibility despite being a 90-year-old novel. As it’s a contemporaneous satire on Stalin’s Moscow, I probably did miss out on a lot of jokes and references, but there are sequences in this book that are timeless. A naked witch flying through the air on the back of a large pig that used to be the downstairs neighbour is an image from the book that particularly stuck in my mind for brilliant and funny surrealism.

This is as mad as a box of frogs when it gets going. It was constantly surprising and at no point could I predict where the plot might lead next. Even in the very difficult opening chapters the plot carried me through. I had no idea what I was reading, but it kept me interested. Once the style clicked with me, it was actually a weirdly easy read.

I'm very glad I read  it despite the early struggles. Do I recommend it to anyone else?  If you like densely written, strangely plotted Russian novels that confuse and confound, definitely.