Sharon says: To me it's unique because it's a Russian classic where, upon reaching the end, you don't desire to throw yourself off a bridge. I'm excited to reread it.
I just finished this (and mine was published by Vintage, by the way) and I really liked it. When I picked it up, I hadn't read a thing about it anywhere--I didn't even read the back cover--I just started to read. I was expecting--what, I don't know--something depressing and realistic, I suppose, so I was entirely surprised by Woland, Berlioz's beheading, and especially Behemoth. I don't even think I figured out that Woland was Satan until...well, now I'm not too sure. It may have even taken the Master mentioning it to Ivan...
I think that quite a bit of the novel went over my head--as far as references to anything Russian: culture, history, places, people--you know, most of the book. It would have been nice to have gotten some of those--I'm sure it would have deepened my appreciation for the book. Also, I wish I knew a little more about Pontius Pilate and the last week of Christ's life--wasn't there some sort of parallel between the few days in the Pilate story and the few days the devil spent in Moscow? I'm just not knowledgeable enough to figure it out. But oh well. So what if I missed some of the most significat things Bulgakov was saying? I still really, really liked it. The whole idea of a civilization denying the existence of both God and the devil--and then the devil visiting that civilization and mucking it up a bit, just for fun--that was a very appealing idea. (And do you know what else was an appealing idea? Flying through the night sky naked. I don't care what anybody thinks, it sounds like fun to me.)
There were a few ideas that were new to me--or, at least, made me rethink some of my old ideas. Like how insanity surrounded Woland (this makes perfect sense now that I've had a chance to think about it), but by the end of the book, it seemed like Woland was the sane one and the rest of the world was crazy. And Woland really was a likable character, and even seemed to be a decent fellow. But Levi Matvei--not so much. Didn't care for him.
Someone explain this to me, though--Christ requests that Satan take The Master and Margartia with him, and to grant them peace. But not light--Levi says that they earned peace, but not the light. Okay. So what does Christ have to offer, according to this book, if light and peace aren't the same, and if you go to Satan to be granted peace? Is Satan more of a tool of justice? (The whole time he spends in Moscow he torments people by simply exposing them for what they truly are...doesn't he?)
Oh--and one more thing before I end an already too long post--why did every character have so many NAMES? Everyone seemed to have at least three, and all of the names had too many letters like v, y, n...I got them all mixed up. Is this a Russian thing or was Bulgakov doing something a little more deliberate? Anyway, I had a hard time keeping people straight. But what a great read!
I'm only about 80 pages in, but I have to say I'm enjoying it. Just my kinda wacko surreal. I have not read Wynne's analysis because I don't want to ruin the book for myself, but just wanted to say that I'm still pluggin' along at my near-illiterate pace and am pleasantly surprised that a Russian novel can be funny.
Here's one more to figure--Behemoth and...oh dear, his name has left my mind, it's been too long...starts with a K (at least one of the names) and he wore cracked pince-nez? Well, about these two--I am assuming that they are perfoming some sort of penance for something, but does anyone know who these two were in life, before they were sentenced to be the devil's jokers--a cat and a pince-nez man?
I know! I feel like there's so much, right under my nose, that I'm completely missing.
I found something that described Behemoth, K, and Woland as the "unholy trinity," but...well, so what? It was a cute thing for a critic to say, but it doesn't add a deeper level of meaning for me or anything...
Okay, I'm going to post twice, here. One time with my independent reaction (before I read everyone else's comments), and then I'll read everyone's comments and post again, apologizing for repeating what the others said :)
Loved this book, just as Suzanne predicted. I love the high-flying whimsy of it -- taking two different religious stories and colliding them at high speed in the middle of Soviet Moscow. I know it was structured and planned and was not truly haphazard, but it didn't come across as manipulated and manhandled, as did that awful Secret History that I had us read, where you were always aware of the looming author yanking the strings and pointing out how clever and deep she was. A world of difference. In fact, I liked it so much that I'm planning to buy a copy (a very high compliment when you realize that I chalked up $10 in late fees on the library copy I was reading!)
I'll admit right off that I'd hoped (as do all religious people weary of kitschy religious art and literature) that this Great Work would not only be a great work, but would be a great work that truly embraced a religious world view. In that I was only partly gratified. It was clear that the author's highest purpose was a critique of a political system that was fostering an amoral society, and the religious imagery was always serving that end. At the same time, it wasn't so simple as saying that the author was just using Christian storylines to make a point about morality in general. I need to read the book again. I particularly want to pay attention to who narrates each segment of the Pilate storyline, and reread the last two chapters with their alternate endings.
Some bits and pieces I noticed but haven’t fully thought through: the Faust character (the Master) is striving to capture the truth about God in his novel (perhaps more worthy than Goethe’s Faust character who was striving to know everything, including evil). However, the Master doesn’t get complete salvation for a reward as Faust does – he gets peace, but not light. Is this because he gives up his quest? Stops striving? Is Bulgakov accusing the communist system of first striving for something worthy and then giving up the struggle, and that its sin is not so much the lack of religion but rather stagnation and cowardice? I know that that’s what Goethe’s Faust believes, but I’d have to read this book again to see if Bulgakov seems to be saying that as well. He set up evil very clearly at the beginning – Satan incarnate and the corrupt fat cats at the top of the Soviet hierarchy – then used the Pilate and Master storylines to show that it wasn’t that simple – that the humble man striving for good could fall short if he gave up and the leader who betrayed his conscience could redeem himself if he were brave enough to admit his mistake. Man – I really shouldn’t be spouting off these half-baked interpretations after one reading. No doubt I’m way off the mark. But that’s the great thing about this novel. The journey was so intriguing and invigorating and dizzying that A) I don’t really care much that I didn’t “get” it and B) I want to read it again. That’s the mark of a really good book. And with a wisecracking vodka-chugging cat, how can you go wrong, really?
Yep, looks like I managed to basically regurgitated what Wynne and Sharon said. Sigh. I'm doomed to a profound and eternal redundancy. (This is the point at which, in college lit-crit classes, you would pull out your gay-and-lesbian critical theory guide in an attempt to concoct some New and Original angle on a text that would wow the teacher. And of course you inevitably ended up sounding Completely Ridiculous. Don't worry -- I will not subject you to such a stunt in an attempt to boost my deflated literary ego.)
8 comments:
Is there any particular translation we should be looking for? Or is there only one translation?
No idea. You're welcome to borrow my Russian copy. Goodness knows, I haven't read a word of it.
I just finished this (and mine was published by Vintage, by the way) and I really liked it. When I picked it up, I hadn't read a thing about it anywhere--I didn't even read the back cover--I just started to read. I was expecting--what, I don't know--something depressing and realistic, I suppose, so I was entirely surprised by Woland, Berlioz's beheading, and especially Behemoth. I don't even think I figured out that Woland was Satan until...well, now I'm not too sure. It may have even taken the Master mentioning it to Ivan...
I think that quite a bit of the novel went over my head--as far as references to anything Russian: culture, history, places, people--you know, most of the book. It would have been nice to have gotten some of those--I'm sure it would have deepened my appreciation for the book. Also, I wish I knew a little more about Pontius Pilate and the last week of Christ's life--wasn't there some sort of parallel between the few days in the Pilate story and the few days the devil spent in Moscow? I'm just not knowledgeable enough to figure it out. But oh well. So what if I missed some of the most significat things Bulgakov was saying? I still really, really liked it. The whole idea of a civilization denying the existence of both God and the devil--and then the devil visiting that civilization and mucking it up a bit, just for fun--that was a very appealing idea. (And do you know what else was an appealing idea? Flying through the night sky naked. I don't care what anybody thinks, it sounds like fun to me.)
There were a few ideas that were new to me--or, at least, made me rethink some of my old ideas. Like how insanity surrounded Woland (this makes perfect sense now that I've had a chance to think about it), but by the end of the book, it seemed like Woland was the sane one and the rest of the world was crazy. And Woland really was a likable character, and even seemed to be a decent fellow. But Levi Matvei--not so much. Didn't care for him.
Someone explain this to me, though--Christ requests that Satan take The Master and Margartia with him, and to grant them peace. But not light--Levi says that they earned peace, but not the light. Okay. So what does Christ have to offer, according to this book, if light and peace aren't the same, and if you go to Satan to be granted peace? Is Satan more of a tool of justice? (The whole time he spends in Moscow he torments people by simply exposing them for what they truly are...doesn't he?)
Oh--and one more thing before I end an already too long post--why did every character have so many NAMES? Everyone seemed to have at least three, and all of the names had too many letters like v, y, n...I got them all mixed up. Is this a Russian thing or was Bulgakov doing something a little more deliberate? Anyway, I had a hard time keeping people straight. But what a great read!
I'm only about 80 pages in, but I have to say I'm enjoying it. Just my kinda wacko surreal. I have not read Wynne's analysis because I don't want to ruin the book for myself, but just wanted to say that I'm still pluggin' along at my near-illiterate pace and am pleasantly surprised that a Russian novel can be funny.
Here's one more to figure--Behemoth and...oh dear, his name has left my mind, it's been too long...starts with a K (at least one of the names) and he wore cracked pince-nez? Well, about these two--I am assuming that they are perfoming some sort of penance for something, but does anyone know who these two were in life, before they were sentenced to be the devil's jokers--a cat and a pince-nez man?
I know! I feel like there's so much, right under my nose, that I'm completely missing.
I found something that described Behemoth, K, and Woland as the "unholy trinity," but...well, so what? It was a cute thing for a critic to say, but it doesn't add a deeper level of meaning for me or anything...
I really liked Behemoth, is all.
Okay, I'm going to post twice, here. One time with my independent reaction (before I read everyone else's comments), and then I'll read everyone's comments and post again, apologizing for repeating what the others said :)
Loved this book, just as Suzanne predicted. I love the high-flying whimsy of it -- taking two different religious stories and colliding them at high speed in the middle of Soviet Moscow. I know it was structured and planned and was not truly haphazard, but it didn't come across as manipulated and manhandled, as did that awful Secret History that I had us read, where you were always aware of the looming author yanking the strings and pointing out how clever and deep she was. A world of difference. In fact, I liked it so much that I'm planning to buy a copy (a very high compliment when you realize that I chalked up $10 in late fees on the library copy I was reading!)
I'll admit right off that I'd hoped (as do all religious people weary of kitschy religious art and literature) that this Great Work would not only be a great work, but would be a great work that truly embraced a religious world view. In that I was only partly gratified. It was clear that the author's highest purpose was a critique of a political system that was fostering an amoral society, and the religious imagery was always serving that end. At the same time, it wasn't so simple as saying that the author was just using Christian storylines to make a point about morality in general. I need to read the book again. I particularly want to pay attention to who narrates each segment of the Pilate storyline, and reread the last two chapters with their alternate endings.
Some bits and pieces I noticed but haven’t fully thought through: the Faust character (the Master) is striving to capture the truth about God in his novel (perhaps more worthy
than Goethe’s Faust character who was striving to know everything, including evil). However, the Master doesn’t get complete salvation for a reward as Faust does – he gets peace, but not light. Is this because he gives up his quest? Stops striving? Is Bulgakov accusing the communist system of first striving for something worthy and then giving up the struggle, and that its sin is not so much the lack of religion but rather stagnation and cowardice? I know that that’s what Goethe’s Faust believes, but I’d have to read this book again to see if Bulgakov seems to be saying that as well. He set up evil very clearly at the beginning – Satan incarnate and the corrupt fat cats at the top of the Soviet hierarchy – then used the Pilate and Master storylines to show that it wasn’t that simple – that the humble man striving for good could fall short if he gave up and the leader who betrayed his conscience could redeem himself if he were brave enough to admit his mistake. Man – I really shouldn’t be spouting off these half-baked interpretations after one reading. No doubt I’m way off the mark. But that’s the great thing about this novel. The journey was so intriguing and invigorating and dizzying that A) I don’t really care much that I didn’t “get” it and B) I want to read it again. That’s the mark of a really good book. And with a wisecracking vodka-chugging cat, how can you go wrong, really?
Yep, looks like I managed to basically regurgitated what Wynne and Sharon said. Sigh. I'm doomed to a profound and eternal redundancy. (This is the point at which, in college lit-crit classes, you would pull out your gay-and-lesbian critical theory guide in an attempt to concoct some New and Original angle on a text that would wow the teacher. And of course you inevitably ended up sounding Completely Ridiculous. Don't worry -- I will not subject you to such a stunt in an attempt to boost my deflated literary ego.)
End post.
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