
Book #238 of 2018:
The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov
This subversive Soviet satire, written in secret and only published after author Mikhail Bulgakov’s death, is wickedly funny and very creative, but it’s all a bit chaotic for my tastes. Given the sarcastic gun-wielding cat, the black magic of the literal devil, the gratuitous female nudity, and all the decapitations and other grotesqueries, I really need more of a coherent plot or even just a single character to root for.
I’m sure there are plenty of nuances that I’m missing due to my distance from the original context of Bulgakov’s allegories, but the surreal burlesque circus that unfolds across the novel generally leaves me a bit cold. I like the historical flashbacks featuring Pontius Pilate and other biblical figures better than anything set in the present, yet they too wear out their welcome for me before the end.
This is the weirdest book I’ve picked up in quite some time, and although I don’t love it myself, I can see why so many people do. It’s worth reading for sheer peculiarity, if nothing else.
★★★☆☆








