Why This Surreal Soviet Era Novel Is The Perfect Tonic For Our Times
Look no further than ‘The Master and Margarita’: a lesson in life, love, and the power of art.
‘Manuscripts don’t burn' — Mikhail Bulgakov.
The art of devotion appears ever harder to master. Every day, we are faced with distractions, temptations, and challenges that push and pull us in different directions — whether we want them to or not. We are becoming more and more tired, stressed, and overwhelmed by the course of life’s relentless waves.
Very few have had their devotion tested — both to their art and their love — more than the master, a failing writer that has grown weary from the constant resistance to his life’s work, and Margarita, his troubled lover, who is unfortunate enough to encounter an incarnation of the Devil. Their bitter journeys form one of the three interconnected strands of The Master and Margarita; without a doubt one of the most imaginative, meaningful, and regularly absurd reads of all time.
But what is it about this book that continues to evoke intrigue, debate, and joy all this time later?
And why do I think it has the potential to illuminate your life?
For a start, this book was written in a deeply secular 1930s Soviet Union. The art forms that did exist were of course controlled, with freedom of expression only allowed if it made sense for the deeply secular political regime.
It is hardly surprising then that Mikhail Bulgakov’s story of the master — a writer who has tried and failed to publish his manuscript on Yeshua’s trial through the eyes of a tormented Pontius Pilate — and Margarita, the master’s devoted wife — was more than frowned upon at the time. Even after a personal letter in which Bulgakov tries to persuade Stalin to allow him to pursue his career as a novelist, it was not until 1966 that his novel was brought into the public eye, thanks in large part to Bulgakov’s widow Elena Bulgakova. Old Bulgakov wasn’t lying when he made his claim about manuscripts.
There is something poetic, then, when we consider the parallels between Bulgakov and Bulgakova, and the master and Margarita.
But before we get to meet the two fictional lovebirds, we are introduced to a host of characters who, one by one, happen to meet a grisly fate. Of course, this is not by chance. No — the unravelling chaos is caused by dark and mysterious forces.
A foreign magician going by the name of Woland is running amock in Moscow. His intelligence, good humour, and unerring sophistication beguile those that are unfortunate enough to encounter him and his accomplices, which include a talking black cat named Behemoth — whose provocation is matched only by his malignity.
As we move from one scene to the next, Woland is able to embed himself in bourgeoise circles of literary and artistic importance. In so doing, he manages to exploit the inner workings of a system dominated by greed and convoluted bureaucracies to the extent that he can host a series of black magic shows, where he stuns the audience by making money rain from the sky and heads rise and fall.
Soon, and the furore surrounding this spectacular, one-of-a-kind foreign magician takes hold across the city. What people do not know, of course, is that Woland is neither man nor magician. Or not in the traditional sense, at least.
Bulgakov sandwiches Woland’s story with a narration of the sentencing and eventual execution of Yeshua Ha-Nostri. Procurator Pontius Pilate, who is preoccupied with his role and status, does everything he can to resist the appeals to good humankind that Yeshua makes. He is clearly a coward, and one of the many examples of Bulgakov shining a light on the ways in which we surrender our morals to the burdens of society.
The authentically told account of Pilate’s dilemma reflects the seriousness of the master’s once-cherished manuscript which, as we know, was barred from ever being released.
And it is only after the execution is carried out that we finally get to meet the hapless writer and, of course, Margarita.
Back to the present day, then, and it is when Woland encounters Margarita that we see a different side to the Devil. In Margarita, he finds a person that is courageous, steadfast, and full of love for the master. Whatever Woland and his aides can throw at her — including an invitation to ‘Satan’s Ball’, a ceremonial tribute to the evil that has successfully played its role over the years — Margarita remains unchanged, untainted.
Indeed, Woland himself is a role. A role played by the Devil, thrust into Moscow to expose the evils that are present in society. The surreal havoc that he wreaks — such as the orchestration of a sunflower oil-related decapitation and the dispersal of a theatre director to an obscure Soviet town — is not random. Nor is it for evil’s sake. Woland is playing his role as a manifestation of evil, a power that is necessary for society to function.
As he explains later on in the story, good and evil cannot work without one another:
“But would you kindly ponder this question: What would your good do if
evil didn’t exist, and what would the earth look like if all the shadows
disappeared? After all, shadows are cast by things and people. Here is the
shadow of my sword. But shadows also come from trees and living beings.
Do you want to strip the earth of all trees and living things just because
of your fantasy of enjoying naked light? You’re stupid.” — Mikhail Bulgakov.
When the Ball is over, Margarita is told that she has passed the ‘test’, having stood up to temptations of greed and envy during her time amongst evil. Woland reunites Margarita with her love, the master, who has been in a mental hospital — driven insane by his Kafkaesque mission to gain recognition for his work. The master’s manuscript, which he had set on fire, is duly returned to him.
Finally, and their bravery is rewarded when the stories of the master, Woland and Pontius Pilate intersect, and closure is provided to them all in the novel’s powerful conclusion.
What is inspiring to me, and ultimately causes Woland to succumb to the good of the master and Margarita, is the devotion that they show, both to each other and the master’s work. What’s more, and the master’s manuscript is authentic, untainted by greed or outside influence. It is his story, in the way he wanted to tell it. The strength of this is irresistible and unanswerable to even the worst of evils.
So, at a time where individuals, parties, and organisations lay claim to ‘the truth’, the journey undertaken by the devoted couple is as relevant and inspirational today as it has ever been, especially when considered in the context of Bulgakov and Bulgakova’s tenacity in the face of repressive forces. And this thought led me to ask one final question.
Whatever the political climate, if we lose sight of our values and beliefs, how can we remain true to ourselves, and resist the temptations of the devil?
That is for you to learn and find out about yourself.
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