"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."
One part scathing critique of Stalin-era Russia and Soviet bureaucracy, one part three-day phantasmagorical romp through Moscow as Woland (Satan) and his cronies get up to mischief and wreak havoc, one part book-within-a-book in the form of a reflection on Pontius Pilate and the action (or lack thereof) that immortalised him, and one part love story between the eponymous Master, a beleaguered writer, and his fiercely loyal lover. Margarita. The Master and Margarita is Bulgakov's final masterpiece; published posthumously in 1966, 26 years after his death, only thanks to the tireless work of his widow, Elena (which is curiously fitting).
How can I possibly capture the essence of this book in a handful of words? It's a work of brilliance; 1930's Moscow is brought to life in a whirlwind of absurdity and passion and intellect and all with that uniquely Russian ability to find humour in even the most devastating of circumstances. And the characters! Who could ever forget Behemoth the bipedal, vodka-swilling cat? And what of the enigmatic Woland and the rest of his unruly cohort? Margarita! She who throws fear to the wind (alongside her clothes) and dives headlong into the chaos to reunite with her forlorn love and bring him some much-deserved peace! It all comes together in a world that is at once both magical and all too real; questioning the nature of society and crafting a dizzying kaleidoscope of the grotesque and wonderful.
Ultimately, for a book written under the suffocating atmosphere of the Soviet regime, it manages to be so much fun to read and is more than deserving of the heaps of critical acclaim it receives. Read it, please, for your own sake.
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