Review of Mikhail Bulgakov's The Master and Margarita

The Master and Margarita is one of those books that hooks the reader from the very first page. In this case, after having gone through a few pages, one is faced with mix of emotions. Starting at sheer interest in the historical and geographical setting, rapidly moving to a certain confusion and escalating into childish excitement. All the while, one cannot let go of the ever-present feeling that this is a special book. Ultimately, the first few chapters do capture the essence of the book.

This was a really different reading experience for our book club, which tends to focus more on non-fiction books. Overall, the members all found that the length of the book, the many names and characters, as well as the large array of allusions holding underlying historical or political meanings all proved relatively challenging. Yet the group also felt that this did not make the reading experience less interesting or entertaining, on the contrary.

The first part (“the Master”) reads overall better than the second (“Margarita”), which can be explained (according to one of the end notes) by the fact that the author became increasingly ill while writing the book, which meant the second part was not as carefully edited. Some of the end notes also point to some inconsistencies resulting from this lack of editing. Although this does not affect the overall narrative much, it undoubtedly generates a sense of imbalance in the writing, as though two different people had written the book. According to another end note, this is in fact partly what happened, as Mikhail Bulgakov’s wife is said to have typed most of the part 2 chapters, while Bulgakov, who was too unwell, dictated to her. Some characters are consistent throughout the book though and indeed never disappoint, such as the cat Behemoth, whose sarcasm and shenanigans bring a light touch to the reading journey.

Interestingly, the same impression of duality in the writing comes up when one moves to the main narrative after having gone through one of the chapters covering the Pontius Pilate story arc. Our group could not tell whether this was done on purpose or whether it was due to other factors (i.e. unbalanced editing, translation issues, the timing of Bulgakov’s writing of that particular story). We also pondered over who exactly could be the main narrator (Levi Matthew?)

This leads us to address the elephant in the room when it comes to this book, which one cannot overlook: its religious and political dimensions. Again, the book’s explanatory notes proved extremely helpful in walking the reader through some of Bulgakov’s underlying meanings. Nonetheless, our group could not come to a definite conclusion as to what Bulgakov’s main position or argument on religion actually was. Our discussion settled on the fact that given the forbidden character of religion in the Soviet Union, the very theme inherent to The Master and Margarita acted as a political statement in itself. Furthermore, Bulgakov seems to be making the point (through his characters) that the very lack of choice with regards to faith is the most problematic issue at hand. This notion of free will thereby acts as a red thread across the book’s story arcs. This is illustrated through some of the book’s most powerful moments, such Pontius Pilate’s choice that ends up devastating him and Margarita’s Faustian bargain made out of love for the Master but also out of desire for a different life. One could also point out to more minor characters who are repeatedly faced with the choice of deciding whether to “believe” or not what is happening to them.

Though the religious is inextricably linked to the political, one central target of Bulgakov’s attacks seems to be the peers whom he sees as corrupt individuals, disguised as intellectuals, merely acting as the regime’s puppets. Bulgakov criticizes them indirectly, mainly ridiculing them through giving their names (slightly altered) to immoral, unattractive, silly and corrupt characters. At times, some of these attacks actually come across as more personal than political.

We wanted to read this book because it sits among Russian literature's classics and because it was a different genre from that which we had so far selected as part of our book club. We were not disappointed. The Master and Margarita provided not only for a fun, challenging and stimulating reading experience, but it also generated great discussions about religion, politics, life under the Soviet Union, and crucially, the invaluable power and influence of literature as means to mock, criticize and resist tyranny.