As I've said in my previous blog post, I've recently read The Master and Margarita by Mihail Bulgakov. It was recommended to me by my partner, who says this is one of her favorite books. After going through the book myself, I can see why.

So let's talk about it.

Beware, there may be unmarked spoilers, though nothing major.

The Book Itself

Unlike the previous Book Club entry, I won't be going into the physical book itself much. That's because this might've been the book that I've medium-hopped the most while reading it. I swapped between the physical copy I have and two different e-book versions depending on the time and place, as well as with which device, I was doing my reading.

However, I will say this much, if you want to read this book, get a copy with plenty of footnotes and annotations. All versions which I've read had them, which helped quite a lot.

Devil's Trickery

The Master and Margarita follows three stories in parallel. The first is the story of the titular protagonists, an author called The Master and his love interest Margarita. Second is the story of Pontius Pilate, a roman prefect depicted in The Master's latest manuscript. And the third story we follow is that of the demonic Woland and his retinue. These parallel plots, in the span of two books, connect and culminate in a beautiful yet hilarious story of love, religion and political satire.

Although it's a story of The Master and Margarita as the title would suggest, we spend much of our time following Woland, a mysterious demonic figure, and his devilish retinue. Much of the story is about how they dispense what could be described as "poetic justice" to those who commit the cardinal sins of greed, pride and perhaps the most evil of them all, bourgeoisery. While this could be seen as Bulgakov dispensing justice at the rotten parts of the society as he saw them, the specific punishments he chose such as disappearances, brainwashing, and amnesia point the finger masterfully at the source of the increasingly paranoid society he found himself in.

The satire doesn't stop there, however. The text contains stories, interactions and references at every level which needles at the problems Soviet citizens faced in their lives. From housing to anti-theism, there's hardly anything left to pick at. However, this is where the aforementioned suggestion to read a copy of this book with a good footnotes come in. Some of the references are deep cuts—such as mentions of a specific make and model of a stove—which, if you don't have lived experiences with the Soviet Union will be completely lost on you. I don't have such experiences, so the explanations helped greatly.

Despite the layered nature of the text, the language is not highly decorated. Vivid as the descriptions and characters are, the register of the book is simple and easy to follow. This is to the advantage of the story, where dialogue and plot take precedence over aesthetics, and works really well. The humor, likewise, works great with the story. It's neither overly vulgar, nor too tame. Just like our characters, who are neither toothless nor crude.

Speaking of the characters, Behemoth—who most assuredly will be depicted on the cover of your copy if you decide to read this book—is easily my favorite of them all. Every scene with him in it is a delight, and a joy to read. He is also the sole reason why I would like to watch the 2005 TV adaptation. Who wouldn't want to see a giant black cat in a shootout with the police?

The book is not without criticism, however. Although "life getting in the way" was the main reason for me taking my sweet time with this book as I've stated in the blog post, another reason was the book's at-times glacial pacing. Even looking back I can't quite fit in the chapter "The Last Adventures of Koroviev and Behemoth" with the rest of the story, while I understand it's a send-off, it reads more like a filler. Certain Pontius Pilate chapters also feel disjointed, and not quite like they're where they need to be.

These don't detract from the whole experience of the book much, however. Even side characters and stories are fun to follow, and coupled with the vignettes of social life in the USSR, the book is a solid recommendation for anyone who enjoys satirical comedy.

Do Manuscripts Burn?

It's always exciting, and at the same time unnerving, to talk about a work as monumental as The Master and Margarita. What is there to say that hasn't been said in the decades prior? If I repeat the same analyses, criticisms and praises, what is the value of this post which is a work in its own right? And what if it's not the same as the others, and presents an altogether different reading of the text, will people agree? If they do not, can I face the dismissal of my work with indifference?

Master, albeit not exactly, faces a similar conundrum in the book. His manuscript, which is a story about the aforementioned Pontius Pilate who oversaw the crucifixion of Yeshua Ha-Nazri, is viciously attacked after he sends it for the consideration of a publishing house. In fact this attack is so oppressive that The Master, whose reputation is now destroyed, burns the manuscript and after a period of mental anguish, admits himself to an asylum. This is a plot device known in the literary world as a valid crashout. Although this is mainly a criticism of soviet censorship, especially of works seen as "dangerous" and "anti-soviet" (which, ironically, what this book ended up being evaluated as and censored) is also a good representation of self-censoring of artists, especially in the face of backlash.

This self-censoring, if left unchecked, may become a method of survival for not only individuals, both whole groups of people. In the book, the story of Pilate never even reaches the stage where it would be censored by the state itself, it's stillbirth. Destroyed conceptually by Master's peers, and physically by Master. The fear of state censorship herein is more effective than the act itself.

Ironically, one can see this exact scenario playing out today. Go to almost any social media platform you can think of, and you'll see a mountain of posts made by people who censor their own speech. "To kill" becomes "to unalive", "nazi" becomes "yahtzee" so on and so forth. The teeth of our language is pulled with pliers one by one, while neither our states or the platforms we use to speak necessitate it. Although, platforms with real or perceived censorship policies of these words and more such as TikTok are the reason why this is becoming more popular, the origins often stem from monetization concerns. We're letting ad revenue police our speech without even thinking, making sure our comments on an Instagram reel is advertisement friendly before we hit "post".

And with time, we see "algospeak" as it is called seep into our language outside these platforms, perhaps even into our behavior. We whisper in the middle of a sentence while speaking a most benign word, or don't even dare write on topics that could be misunderstood as problematic.

Although I think Bulgakov is right in saying "Manuscripts don't burn", if they're not written in the first place even Woland cannot restore them.