. Spinning .

     "The fact is that a year ago I wrote a novel about Pilate." "
     You’re a writer?" asked the poet with interest. 
     The guest’s face darkened, and he shook his fist at Ivan that then said, "I am the Master."  He became stern, reached into the pocket of his robe and took out a grimy black cap that had the letter "M" embroidered on it in yellow silk.  He put the cap on and modeled it for Ivan in profile and full face, in order to prove that he was the Master.  "She sewed this for me with her own hands," he added mysteriously.  (p. 114)

So we finally meet the character of the title, and there seems to be a hint of Margarita in the last sentence.  And who is the Master?  The patient who has gotten ahold of the keys and has been visiting Ivan Bezdomney.  After telling Ivan that Professor Woland is indeed the devil himself, he proceeds to tell him a bit about his own life, a novel he’s written about Pontius Pilate that was never published, and a married woman with whom he had an affair, Margarita. 

What’s interesting here is that in the face of typical Russian style triple named characters (plus nicknames!), author Bulgakov introduces his characters with little to no introduction.  Instead, he plops them into the middle of an established character’s life (Woland into the conversation of Berlioz and Bezdomney; the Master as a patient who visits Bezdomney) and it is only later that we may find out who they are and how they relate to the others and the story line.

Here we’ve seen that not Jesus, but Pontius Pilate is a theme that ties many of the characters together.  Pilate has always been portrayed as a man who was affected by Jesus, believed he should not be put to death, tried his damnedest to have others make the decision so that he could wash his hands of the situation, assuage his guilt, and yet maintain his political position without danger.

Is there something in the way the characters are introduced that tells us something of their character…or of ours?

Saint Augustine wrote his Confessions as a personal journey, therefore, non-fiction and yet, the philosophy and drama of his viewpoint could certainly be the basis of a novel.  It is written in a particularly eloquent language and of course, of the era, it’s unique to the period.

There is the place of undisturbed quietness where love is not deserted if it does not itself depart. (IV.16)

Concurrently I am reading Mikhail Bulgakov and oddly enough, it too speaks of society, human nature, good and evil, weakness and strength.  Where Augustine speaks directly to God, Bulgakov opens his pages with a visit from the Devil.  While The Master and Margarita is fiction, does it make the character of Satan any less real than that of Bezdomney the poet, or Berlioz the editor with or without his head?  Bulgakov’s style is straightforward, near tongue-in-cheek.

"Let’s look truth straight in the eye," said the guest, turning his face toward the nocturnal orb passing through the clouds beyond the window grille.  "You and I are both mad, there’s no denying it!"  (p. 113)

Bulgakov calls the moon a "nocturnal orb" — not exactly eloquent, although some allowance must be made in both works for the effects of translation.  It’s almost a brutish attempt at imagery, as if calling a long-stemmed red rose a "ruby ball on a stick."

The thought has occurred to me that despite the separation of centuries, it would be interesting to take the voice of Augustine into Bulgakov’s Moscow, and likewise, have Bulgakov’s narrator speaking to God.

As I continue my reading, one more thing I’ll be looking for is a sentence, a thought, something important to the narrative and yet obvious of its writer’s style and thinking, and…rewrite it by the other.

There is a telltale sign that what you’re reading is a Russian novel–aside from the triple-named characters.  For me, it’s a sense of drama within the story that excites the characters yet is presented to the reader in a more matter-of-fact manner.  For example, our poet Ivan Bozdemny is visited in his hospital room by another inmate who listens to his wild tale with no surprise and an explanation:

"But who was he (the professor) anyway?" asked Ivan, shaking his fists in agitation. 

The guest stared at Ivan and answered with a question "You’re not going to get all upset now, are you? All of us here are unstable..There won’t be any calls for the doctor, or injections, or other stuff like that, will there?"

"No, no!" exclaimed Ivan, "just tell me who he is."

"All right then," replied the guest, weighing his words and speaking distinctly, "Yesteday at Patriarch’s Ponds you had a meeting with Satan."

As he had promised, Ivan did not go beserk, but he was nevertheless totally flabbergasted. (p. 112)

Bulgakov (and many Russian writers) may in fact be guilty of "telling" here, and yet it is a distinctive technique that places control of the situation firmly in the hands of the author.  The style is almost a bouncing along with the story flow, nothing holding it back as it bursts forth in a pace specifically set by the writer.  It’s a this is what happened form of tale, and while it tells, it also leaves plenty up to the reader who must depend upon keeping track of hints along the way as to where the plot is taking him.  And in presenting the story as a series of facts, the author does not pronounce judgement, clearly leaving the reader to take it and make of it what he will.  Not a bad way of doing it.

And so the show is onstage, with Professor Woland seated, the black cat prancing about, and Fagot/Korovyov taking over the act.  What is promised is black magic tricks and an expose, but the magic is beyond comprehension except for its purpose to seemingly bring the worst out in the audience.

Money falls from the ceiling, women are invited onstage to exchange their old clothes for Parisian haute couture, and the black cat takes off the MC’s head.  The expose becomes one of telling the deep dark secret of a major theater personality in the presence of his wife.

Bulgakov has the audience act almost to the man in exposing the evil side of humanity, the greed, the bloodthirst, the weakness in bending to mob mentality.  Whether or not he meant this as insight into the Russia of his time, I don’t know.  It doesn’t matter; I see it, read about it every day. 

As I mentioned, the variety of characters, the different story paths were leading up to what the reader, as he learns more and more, comes to believe will be a momentous and telling part of the narrative.  The mysterious and prescient Professor Woland’s performance of black magic at the local theatre has been built up by Bulgakov not for its action necessarily, but for anticipation of the unexpected, based on the characters and their actions leading up to thte stage event.

"Tell me, dear Fagot," inquired Woland of the buffoon in checks, who obviously had another name besides Korovyov, "have the Muscovites changes, in your opinion, in any significant way?"

(…) "Indeed they have, Messire," was Fagot-Korovyov’s soft reply.

"You are right.  They have changed a great deal…on the outside, I mean, as has the city, by the way.  Apart from the obvious changes in dress, there are now these…what are they called…streetcars, automobiles…"

"Buses," Fagot chimed in, respectfully.

The audience listened attentively to this conversation, thinking it was the prelude to the magic tricks.  In the crowd of performers and stage hands backstage.  Rimsky’s pale, tense face could be seen.  (p. 101)

Lots of good stuff going on here.  First, we realize that the professor, his odd sidekick, Korovyov, and the vodka-drinking black cat are real enough to be seen by the entire audience, something I was mentally questioning.  This cracked me up: …who obviously had another name besides Korovyov..  That’s got to be one of the greatest authorly intrusions ever, as well as an hilarious comment on Russian tendencies in novel writing.

But the audience is confused–and here, the reader has a bit of an advantage, having learned a bit of these characters in the first one hundred pages.  The professor seems not to be pulling rabbits out of a hat but rather more interested in talking about society, politics perhaps. There’s got to be more entertainment–dangerous entertainment–brewing here and the reader may bring the experience and fantasy of his own knowledge to enhance the scenario.

Me, I see the theater doors slamming shut, locking.  The lights dim to total blackness and there, on the stage, the professor stands alone in the spotlight…

Despite what some adventure loving readers may claim, the novel that becomes a literary classic always has some kind of carefully considered plot. It simply is not the main priority of the narrative.

In this novel, where much is implied and more is inferred, there is still a basic plot. Though Bulgakov adds the interesting elements along the way such as the inclusion of the confrontation between Yeshua and Pontius Pilate in chapter two, and he kills off one of the two main characters as introduced in the first chapter, the story still follows a series of events that reaffirm a purpose while advancing the story through additional characters and details as well as action.

Berlioz and Bezdomny are in a public square discussing a poem the latter is to write about Jesus Christ–>a strange man (Professor Woland) joins their conversation and makes odd predictions–>the first of which comes true as Berlioz slips on the train tracks and is decapitated–>Bezdomny panics and chases Woland–>Bezdomny loses his quarry, loses his clothes, ending up wildeyed at a meeting house of literati–>he is taken away and institutionalized–>meanwhile, the dead Berlioz’s roommate is approached by Woland and transported out of the area after confirming his appearance as a master of black magic at the local theater–>Woland takes over the dead Berlioz/missing roommate’s apartment.  Etcetera.

By now we’re suspect of Woland–is he indeed the devil?  He has extraordinary powers and he’s certainly up to no good.  Plus, he knew Pontius Pilate himself.  On top of all this, a very interesting story in itself, Bulgakov is giving us a metaphorical Russia, much as Voltaire’s Candide is a tale that necessarily hides in satire the author’s version of his own country and times.

Truly a book of many levels, and that is where Bulgakov excels; skill in interweaving the characters within a fairly simple adventure that becomes complex as the paths open up and veer into new directions.  Yet we know that they all lead to an endpoint, planned out just as carefully.

As the strange professor moves through this novel, we suspect that he is the devil himself as the obviously fantastical takes over:

But there were worse things to be seen in the bedroom: sprawled in a relaxed pose on the pouffe that had once belonged to the jeweler’s wife was a third creature, namely, a black cat of horrific proportions with a glass of vodka in one paw and in the other a fork on which he had speared a pickled mushroom.  (p. 69)

The cat is part of Professor Woland’s retinue, and together with two more odd little men, one with a broken pince-nez and one with red hair, they have "booked" a black magic show to be performed at the local theater.  Bulgakov gives us magical realism that serves as metaphor but there are other evils that follow more historical fact:

Here he glanced at the door to Berlioz’s study, which was close to the front hall, and at that point, he was, as they say, struck dumb.  There was a huge wax seal hanging on a string attached to the door handle. (p. 67)

The reader is aware that Berlioz, of course, has been killed, but to his roomate, it appears that he has been arrested.  Or, has disappeared, as have quite a number of previous tenants of this particular apartment building. 

While cloaked in the guise of mysterious disappearance, we recognize the many Russians who were taken away by police and never were seen again.  Bulgakov is treading on thin ice here, himself in danger perhaps.

I can tell now, even this early in the book, that this is one to be read a few times.  Bulgakov has admirably written a story that is intrigueing and encompassing of character, action, mystery, conflict and structure, enough to surely please any reader.  Yet there is much more beneath hidden in metaphor (I think!) and that would be influenced by a stronger knowledge of historical Russia.

A member of MESSOLIT, the poet Ryukhin, has brought the distraught Bezdomney to an insane asylum after he showed up at the restaurant wearing only longjohns and attempting to tell the others what he’s been through.  The meeting of the strange Professor, the death by decapitation of Berlioz, the chasing through the streets of Moscow after the Professor, the little man and the cat, all to be seen by others as either a drunk or a man who has lost his mental stability.  Ryukhin has come back to the restaurant, leaving Bezdomney tranquilized and sleeping at the hospital, but he has been forced to face his own character, his questionable abilities as a poet.

The poet had wasted his night while others were feasting and now he realized it could never be brought back.  He had only to raise his head from the table lamp up to the sky to realize that the night was gone forever.  The waiters were hurriedly pulling the tablecloths off the tables.  The cats nosing about the veranda had a morning look about them.  Day was bearing down on the poet with full force.  (p. 61)

Haven’t we all had that moment, that very instant that life changed for all time.  Sound dims or rises as we become aware of it.  A whiff of freshly cut grass smells of memories.  The scene shifts and stays just for a moment familiar then nearly alien, a challenge perhaps.  Bulgakov puts it nicely: The cats…had a morning look about them. 

Change is coming, whether anticipated or feared.  This was clearly a time of unrest in Moscow, a time that called for caution even as passion excited the urge to move boldly.  

So far Bulgakov has killed off one of the main characters, but added two more; a weird little man and a large black cat. Mikhail Alexandrovich Berlioz has been beheaded by a train, and the poet has realized that something is decidedly odd about the Professor and chases after him, ending up in the river and with only someone else’s longjohns to continue about the town.

Bulgakov’s humor–and here I must assume that it is the author himself and not the translators that have injected such–is subtle but side-splitting if the reader catches it:

The point is that at the present time the house was owned by that very same MASSOLIT which had been headed by the unfortunate Mikhail Alexandrovich Berlioz before his appearance at Patriarch’s Ponds. (p. 45) [and before his beheading!]

And this in particular, indicating that I’m not the only one noticing the character’s complex names:

"The lad must have gotten held up on the Klyazma," said the thick-voiced Nastasya Lukinishna Nepremenova, an orphan from a Moscow merchant family, who had become a writer and turned out naval battle stories under the pen name, "Bosun George."  (p. 48)

I don’t believe I can read another Russian novel without smiling and thinking of "Bosun George."

I’ve struggled through many a book refusing to seek out reviews and opinions of others.  Looking at this as both influence and plagiarizing of ideas, I feel that it’s always best to go it first alone and then look at what others have found that I have missed, or differ in interpretation. 

This novel is just loaded with symbolism, however; nothing, it seems, is straight out narrative relating the story(ies) which appears as the the first read(s).  That is, the reader can accept the meeting of two writers with the devil in Moscow, and the meeting of Yeshua and Pontius Pilate, or can follow the subtleties to discover more.  There is a commentary, chapter by chapter at the end of this version of the translated novel.  Since I’d already read four chapters, I did allow myself to read the notes on those chapters.  Very helpful and yet not too offputting about letting the reader discover things for himself.  Especially since there are so many references it seems to both other works (Faust, The Bible) and historical and cultural facts (the state of Russia) that I would have to be more aware of these things to get the full understanding of Bulgakov’s meaning.

So yes, I shall bite the bullet and "cheat" through this one a bit. 

Chapter 1 leads into Chapter 2 as the strange foreigner, a Professor who claims to be in Moscow to decipher text of black magic, starts the tale of Jesus and Pontius Pilate, which is where the Chapter begins.

Names changed but clearly recognizable, the tale tells of the bringing in of the prisoner,Yeshua (Jesus), before Pilate for the final decree of life or death for the crime of inciting riots and denouncing Caesar subject to God as King.  Pretty much follows the basics as I recall my religious instruction and bible, the reluctant Pilate recognizing Yeshua as possibly a healer and philosopher, and more innocent than the other prisoners brought scheduled to be executed that day.  But one must be freed, and Pilate does his best to convince the religious leader to free Yeshua as he himself cannot do so without being seen guilty of treasonous behavior.

I’m not sure how one story relates to the other yet, and though it seems obvious that Berlioz the editor and Ivan the poet are atheist in belief, amid the setting of Russia they are secure.  It is the stranger who appears to surprised by their openness, yet though he is of questionable substance–having "appeared" from out of nowhere–he does not strike me as a particularly good character and therefore I peeked at the back cover to find–he is the devil!

Yep, it brought me back many years to The Brothers Karamazov where everyone has at least a triple-name — Mikhail Alexandrovich Berlioz, and Ivan Nikolayevich Ponyryov (who writes under the pen name Bezdomny) are the two characters we meet by the second paragraph of this novel by Mikhail Bulgakov (who, poor man, is missing a middle name!).  By page three I was flipping back because I couldn’t believe that the same man was referred to by different names in the same sentence.

But there is so much delight here that overcomes my annoyances.  A discussion between the two above named characters who are editor and poet about the non-existence of Jesus Christ.  An odd foreign stranger who come up to them and politely asks to join the conversation.  As Bulgakov gives the the reader access to the consternation of the first two gentlemen towards the stranger, wondering where indeed he is from, he also gives us a clue as to the nature of the man.  A German? An Englishman? A Pole?  From France?  Set in Russia, these two would more easily narrow an European down closer than this.  And he speaks of breakfasting with Immanuel Kant, centuries dead.

Religion, philosophy, history, all here within the first short chapter and I’m going to love this: magical realism to bring it all together. 

While I still haven’t gone through the poetry (I admittedly skim) of Confrontation, I found myself really anxious to start in on this one, having held it as a treat to look forward to reading.

So I may not start it immediately, and I also have to post on Augustine’s Confessions, just couldn’t wait to commit myself publicly to Mikhail Bulgakov’s novel and hope that some of you have read it to help me along.