Laura’s Favourite Book #5: The Master and Margarita

Love leaped out in front of us like a murderer in an alley leaping out of nowhere, and struck us both at once. – Mikhail Bulgakov, The Master and Margarita

Why The Master and Margarita?

Ugh, that beginning. The Master and Margarita had been on my radar for a long time as someone who loves stories about witches and the Devil, but it was only when I saw the striking cover during one of my many London bookshop visits that I finally picked it up and bought it. So, the background intrigued me, the cover hooked me, and then…

The way it drags you straight into Moscow, throws the very disconcerting Woland into a conversation with two unsuspecting writers, and then the chapter ends with one of them dead? And Woland had predicted his death?

It got me good.

Story

So yeah, if you haven’t read it yet, apologies for the spoilers above. The Master and Margarita is a bit of a funny one. It’s arguably ahead of its time in the way that it integrates the Master’s writings within the novel and in terms of when key characters like the Master and Margarita are actually introduced. Yes, there is a beginning, middle, and end to both storylines, but there’s a pervasive sense of discombobulation that enhances what the Muscovites are experiencing now Woland and his entourage are in town.

What I will say is that it’s more subversive than just in terms of the political concerns that prevented its publication for so long. No-one is truly good or evil, not even Woland (the literal Devil). In fact, maybe the characters are good or evil, but the novel just doesn’t care. What does matter is love. We are not called to judge Woland and his demonic friends, or even Margarita, who’s been having an extramarital affair with the Master. In fact, we’re rooting for them to be reunited and if Woland et al. can help, all the better.

It's an unconventional ‘happy ever after’, but it works.

Character

To continue this thread of subversiveness, there is something weirdly heartwarming and human about Woland’s entourage, which consists of the redhead witch Hella, talking/walking cat Behemoth, illusionist Korovyev, and Azazello the assassin. Amidst the black sabbaths, they have a lot of fun running cons around the city. Woland himself is all-knowing and matter-of-fact, a subtle danger emanating from him. And yet, this ragtag bunch (whose true forms are only seen at the end of the novel) is very sweet when they take Margarita under their wing. Basically, if she hosts a party for them, she gets her heart’s desire.

But speaking of the Master and Margarita, as the eponymous characters, well, we actually don’t see them all that much. We first see the Master through another character’s point of view, while Margarita only appears in the second half of the book after the demons have already caused a whole load of chaos in Moscow. Nonetheless, Margarita’s strength of character is palpable (which probably endears her to Woland) and her refusal to think, let alone behave, conventionally is what ‘saves’ her and the Master.

Setting

Thirties Moscow. And ancient Jerusalem.

Both settings are intimately drawn, with the details making the story feel both epic and provincial. However, it was the ‘contemporary’ setting that got The Master and Margarita banned for decades (and then censored when it was first published). As in his other work (such as Diaboliad), Bulgakov heavily critiques the corruption and illogic of the Soviet bureaucratic machine, with the implication that Woland and his troupe couldn’t have pulled the tricks that they do in Moscow without this inherent dysfunction (as Hustle and Sharper say, you can’t con an honest man).

It's just one of those books that wouldn’t work in another time or place.

Deals with the Devil in Coldharbour

Now, there is no Devil in Coldharbour (or is there?), but I think it’s time I introduced you all to Alex’s Uncle Harry…

“You’re thinking very loudly.”

Alex flinched. It was just Harry, loosening his tie in the doorway, and knowing him, he’d probably been watching her gorm away at a closed drawer.

“Then you shouldn’t be snooping in my mind,” Alex replied.

“Wouldn’t dare,” Harry said, outstretching his arms.

“Really?”

Harry nodded, his shaven head gleaming dark in the half-light.

“I thought you might need a hug,” he said. “Didn’t have time with all the chaos.”

“Just a quick one,” Alex said, hiding her almost-smile in his chest.

She let herself inhale those fading notes of Brut that had always been Harry to her and almost relaxed into his strong arms. Steady. That was Harry. Steady against anything that could buffet the house, the man who hadn’t even blinked at taking on a bunch of orphaned teenagers.

Alex eased herself away before she could outstay her welcome.

“Anyway.” Harry said, “Welcome home.”

“Your house, not mine.”

“Think of me as its humble caretaker. I saw the study’s open.”

“I think caretakers have to do a bit of painting and decorating sometimes,” Alex said, trying to muster some kind of teasing because then she didn’t have to think of the study and that reflection and the ghost …

And the kitchen and the seizure …

And Eleanor.

And Matthew.

And Elizabeth.

“It was thoughtful, by the way.”

“What?” Alex asked, already getting lost in a conversation that Harry hadn’t even made that labyrinthine yet. She was bumping into the walls, tripping up over the string, choking on breadcrumbs, but maybe that was inevitable after hearing the same dozen sentences for four weeks. They were off-script, just like Elizabeth and all her questions, except Alex knew why now, what she was hiding—

“Your face,” Harry explained, taking the photo album from her, “Is that where you’ve started with the unpacking?”

“I don’t want to start at all.”