Customer Reviews

The Master and Margarita

5 star:		(152)
4 star:		(19)
3 star:		(10)
2 star:		(5)
1 star:		(5)

 

 

I suppose that I can start by saying that "The Master and Margarita" has been my favorite book for over 7 years now (that says a lot since I read quite a bit!). I don't think it is necessary to discuss the plot of the book, since you can read what the book is about by looking at the editorial reviews. However, I will comment on the various translations.

Without a doubt, the book in the original Russian is incomparable, but if you don't read Russian I would recommend the Burgin/Tiernan O'Connor translation. The first translation I ever read was Mirra Ginsburg's - although it is very charming and enjoyable, certain bits of conversation as well as almost an entire chapter are omitted from this translation. I have also read parts of Michael Glenny's translation, and I don't feel that his translation accurately relays the depth, rhythm and richness of Bulgakov's style. Burgin/Tiernan O'Connor has given the most complete and accurate translation of this work. Another superb feature of this translation is the commentary section at the end of the text, which is very helpful in understanding what influenced Bulgakov, and is especially helpful if the reader is not familiar with certain aspects of Soviet culture while the book was written (during the 1930's).

Lastly, I have to comment on the thing that I love most about "The Master and Margarita" - it is impossible to classify this book as one certain genre. This book is a philosophical and religious novel, an historical novel, a satire, a love story, an action/adventure, and a fantasy all rolled into one. Simply put, it is timeless - an original, brilliant and beautiful novel.

This novel belongs in its own category, for there has never been another like it. A really great novel is like a best friend. We love to see them praised and are hurt when they are attacked. I am elated to see that so many Amazon readers share my love for this great work. I have been reticent to write a critique, as I really can't do it justice. Words are too meager a medium to convey my true response to this masterpiece. Suffice it to say that this has long been my first recommendation whenever anyone approached me about books I most enjoyed. Now with the appearance of Diana Burgin's and Katherine O'Connor's superb translation, I can recommend it even more unreservedly. I've read the Ginsburg and Glenny translations, as well, and have to agree with the other reviewers here who take exception to them. I haven't read the Pevear and Volokhonsky translation, but haven't been too excited by their work with Dostoevsky, so will probably skip it. I envy those who can read Bulgakov and other Russian masters in the original language, but I make do with finding the best translation I can and pay heed to what native speakers have to say about the various translations. I haven't heard any negatives about Burgin's and O'Connor's efforts. The volume also contains some useful annotation, particularly helpful if you are unfamiliar with the era and with the layout of Moscow. There are also some great Bulgakov sights on the net that have detailed maps of 30's-era Moscow, for those interested in getting a clearer mental picture of the sites Bulgakov describes (Patriarchs Pond, The Aryat, etc.). As far as placing Bulgakov in the Pantheon of Russian novelists, this novel alone propels him to the front ranks. Some of his other works, most notably Heart of a Dog and White Guard have not been adequately translated yet, so it is difficult to assess them. If you are a Pasternak fan (which I am not) you will probably enjoy White Guard, however. It is not satire, though, which in my estimation is Bulgakov's strong suit. Nor is there much humor there (at which he also excels in M&M). In fact I would be hard-pressed to come up with any other work in any literature that is as scathingly humorous and dead-on-target satirical as M&M. Burgess and Vonnegut are rungs below Bulgakov in either category. Bulgakov skewers every Moscow bureaucrat and literary hack (unfortunately in the Stalinist era most of those who maintained positions of authority in literary circles were obsequious no-talents who mouthed party-line propaganda) that ever did him harm (and these were legion). Yet there is not an ounce of vitriol involved in the skewering, which is remarkable in itself. Bulgakov had to be one of the most good-natured people ever to pick up a pen. That is the overall impression one gleans from the accounts of his contemporaries and it is evident throughout this book. Yes, stupid people behave stupidly and predictably

(Annushka is Annushka ! ) but in most cases the divine forces at work here let them off the hook. If you haven't been convinced by all these testimonials to give this novel a try, I am probably wasting space here anyway. This novel is the reason I go on reading. I hope someday to come across another like it. There aren't enough stars in the Amazon galaxy to do it justice.

This is truly a remarkable book; buried beneath the rubble of Soviet censorship for twenty years, then partially uncovered, The Master and Margarita is now restored to its full passion, power and sly, striking sarcasm. With a cast of characters that includes an enormous walking, talking black cat named Behemoth, several slightly prissy Soviet writers (most of whom meet satisfying ends) and the Devil Himself, the book is all at once a comment on a writer's life under Stalin, a reworking of the stories of Pontius Pilate and Faust and at the same time, quite funny. I've only read a few books like this (The Sound and the Fury was one), where the prose seems to burn beneath your fingertips, propelling you to the end of the book. It has all the bluntness and beauty and sly wit of the best Russian literature. At one point in the novel, a character says, "manuscripts don't burn" -- what a relief that this one didn't.

"The Master and Margarita," Mikhail Bulgakov's sparkling fantasy of Satan's visit to Moscow under the guise of a magician named Professor Woland, must rank as one of the greatest acts of literary heroism of the past century. Bulgakov wrote the novel in the late 1930s, under what was arguably the most repressive government ever on earth--the Soviet Union at the height of Stalin's power. When even the mildest criticism of the regime led to a death sentence, Bulgakov dared to place all the cruelty, venality and treachery of 1930s Russia under a microscope. The book was of course unpublishable in Bulgakov's lifetime; it only appeared in its original form nearly a half-century after the author's death. We can chuckle at the wicked tricks Woland and his retinue play on various arrogant, incompetent Soviet officials, but knowledge of the power wielded by the real-life counterparts of those officials gives the chuckles a grim undertone indeed. The titular characters don't even appear until the book is nearly half-over: the Master, a despondent writer sent to an asylum after his novel about Pontius Pilate is rejected by the Soviet writers' union, and Margarita, the beautiful woman who loves him and will literally go to Hell for his sake. Through their dealings with Woland, Bulgakov exalts the power of the imagination, the need for the spiritual dimension in life and the courage to live by one's own convictions--virtues that Stalinist Russia strove, mostly successfully, to undermine. Interspersed with the tale of Woland, the Master and Margarita are chapters from the Master's novel, depicting Pontius Pilate's dealings on the day of the Crucifixion with Yeshua Ha-Notsri (Jesus of Nazareth), Levi Matvei (St. Matthew) and Judas of Kerioth (Iscariot). The leading theme of those chapters is the essential nature of humankind: are people good, as Yeshua argues, or bad, as Pilate does? Bulgakov never answers this question, and Christian fundamentalists will be outraged to find Levi Matvei and Woland at the end to be allies, albeit uneasy ones. But in the Stalinist moral vacuum that denied the existence of both Heaven and Hell, how could they avoid working together? Bulgakov insists that people have moral choices, and that the greatest evil comes from abdicating those choices, as Stalin not only encouraged but demanded. The Vintage International edition of "The Master and Margarita" benefits mightily from the idiomatic, easily flowing English translation by Diana Burgin and Katherine Tiernan O'Connor, and the afterword by Bulgakov biographer Ellendea Proffer provides invaluable information, from the standpoint of both the societal context and Bulgakov's own life history.

This is Bulgakov's magnum opus. "Master and Margarita" was written in the years 1929-1940. It was completed months before Bulgakov's death. The book was posthumously published in the Soviet Union in the mid 1960s, with some provocative passages censored by the paranoid communist ideological machine. This is one of the most imaginative allegories I have ever encountered. Bulgakov's imagery and satire ran a scathing trace along the fabric of the Soviet society, oppressed by totalitarian institutions and bureaucratic narrow-mindedness. There is here also a story within a story--a retelling of the confrontation between Jesus and Pontius Pilate. Bulgakov's raises the issue of meaning of love, faith, forgiveness, and human decency. This also is a funny novel. And I think that to truly appreciate all of its nuances one should read it in Russian, and I am privileged to be able to do so. However, this book is not beyond the average English-speaking reader, on the contrary, most people will enjoy reading it for its sheer humour and inventiveness, even if they are not familiar with the society which is allegorically depicted here.

I prefer this translation to other translations. It feels accurate and natural. The flow of narrative is smooth and enticing. In the real world, Bulgakov seems to show, love does not always conquer all, but it remains unconquered even in the face of oppression and tragedy.

Michael Hart

I read the Michael Glenny version in the late sixties, and have loved it deeply ever since. Having lent my copy to a friend I bought a new one some years ago - and I thought I would try the Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky version.

This couple evidently know the nuances of Russian culture but they simply can't write idiomatic English and their translation therefore loses the spontaneity and fun of the Glenny version.

Compare these early paragraphs: by Pevear and Volokhonsky

'What the devil does he want?' thought Homeless, frowning.
'And you were agreeing with your interlocutor?' inquired the stranger, turning to Homeless on his right.
'A hundred per cent!' confirmed the man, who was fond of whimsical and figurative
expressions.
'Amazing!' exclaimed the uninvited interlocutor and, casting a thievish glance around and
muffling his low voice for some reason, he said:
'Forgive my importunity, but, as I understand, along with everything else, you also do not
believe in God?' he made frightened eyes and added: 'I swear I won't tell anyone!'
'No, we don't believe in God,' Berlioz replied, smiling slightly at the foreign tourist's fright, but we can speak of it quite freely.'
The foreigner sat back on the bench and asked, even with a slight shriek of curiosity:
'You are - atheists?!'
Yes, we're atheists,' Berlioz smilingly replied, and Homeless thought, getting angry: 'Latched on to us, the foreign goose"

With these by Michael Glenny:

'Ah, how interesting!' exclaimed the foreigner.
'What the hell does he want?' thought Bezdomny and frowned.
'And do you agree with your friend?' enquired the unknown man, turning to Bezdomny on his right.
'A hundred per cent!' affirmed the poet, who loved to use pretentious numerical expressions.
'Astounding!' cried their unbidden companion. Glancing furtively round and lowering his voice he said : 'Forgive me for being so rude, but am I right in thinking that you do not believe in God either?' He gave a horrified look and said: 'I swear not to tell anyone!'
'Yes, neither of us believes in God,' answered Berlioz with a faint smile at this foreign tourist's apprehension. ' But we can talk about it with absolute freedom.'
The foreigner leaned against the backrest of the bench and asked, in a voice positively squeaking with curiosity :
'Are you . . . atheists? '
'Yes, we're atheists,' replied Berlioz, smiling, and Bezdomny thought angrily : ' Trying to pick an argument, damn foreigner! '

Which version do you think would be more enjoyable to read....?

I'm now looking for the Burgin/Tiernan O'Connor version so that I can read that to compare.

This book has got it all -- decapitations, crucifixions, vodka-drinking cats, and naked women flying on broomsticks. What's more, it is a refreshing change of pace from the 19th century works that most people think of when they hear the term "Russian literature." Bulgakov is no Tolstoi or Dostoevskiy, and I mean that as a compliment. All three are top-notch writers, each in his own way. But where Bulgakov differs from the latter two is in his ability to infuse his work with a light-heartedness, even when the subject matter is serious. While Tolstoi is known for epic tales on the grandest of scales, and Dostoevskiy for his penetrating insights into the darkness of the human soul, Bulgakov breaks from his predecessors by creating fiction with flare, stories that dance off the page, with an undeniable element of humor that is extremely rare in Russian literature.

This edition of Master and Margarita is a bit choppy in the translation, but it more than makes up for that minor flaw by providing an excellent set of comments on the text at the back of the book. This is one of those books that is so much easier to appreciate the more you understand the historical references and the social context of the story. Bulgakov, in addition to be a master of the pen, was also a capable historian and keen observer of society and politics. His novels, particularly this one, make this clear. In Master and Margarita, thanks to its novel-within-a-novel structure, you have not one but two socio-historical portraits, both of them exceptionally accurate. Bulgakov showed no fear of the Communist censors, depicting with remarkable honesty the Soviet Union of the 1930s. (No wonder this book didn't see the light of day for several decades.) But perhaps more impressive is his portrayal of a period which he did not witness first-hand. Through the character of the Master, Bulgakov relates a completely unorthodox, though not at all unbelievable, account of Jesus' trial and crucifixion from the perspective of Pontius Pilate, who comes across as most sympathetic and likeable.

As one would expect, the two stories are flawlessly woven together. Parallel plot lines and similarities between the characters in each story make the novel that much richer, that much more of a literary achievement. It is no surprise that most Russians consider this to be their finest example of 20th century literature.

I first read the 1967 paperback translation by Michael Glenny. It claimed to be the "only complete, unexpurgated edition" of the book and was the only version I was aware of in 1968. I read it once on my own (on the recommendation of a professor) and again in the 1968-69 school year in a Russian literature class. I loved it then for all the reasons given in the many reviews listed below. I read it a third time several years later and still loved it.

So now it's been 30 years since I withdrew from the second year of a masters degree program in Russian, and I decided I wanted to read "The Master and Margarita" in the original. I'll confess over the years I have had very few occasions to use my Russian and so have forgotten a great deal. I started reviewing my Russian and convinced several friends to read this book in translation so I'd have others with whom to discuss it. I purchased the Burgin/O'Conner translation (which seems to be the favorite among the many reviews given here) and currently await the Pevear/Volokhonsky translation from Amazon.com. My happiest moment came when I found the book in Russian on the Internet. I now am able to read a chapter in English, then in Russian. I am not yet at the point where I can read the Russian only, but I plan to get there soon. I will say that I do find the Burgin/O'Conner translation superior to the Glenny, but it is interesting to compare how the different translators have dealt with the Russian text. When I receive the Pevear/Volokhonsky version I will have a third opinion to compare.

The real reason I am writing this is to say that I disagree with those who say if you can't read it in the original, it's not worth it. It is definitely worth it. In 1967 I fell in love with this book using the translation that seems to be regarded as the poorest of them all, and while I am enjoying the new translation much more, I would recommend reading this book in any translation you can get. It is simply a book that is so good it is worth reading no matter what. Get the best translation available, read it, and don't be discouraged by those who say you have to read it in the original.

However, if you can read Russian and want to get a copy in the original, it is available from the White Nights Bookstore... The entire site is in Russian, and it offers an impressive array of books from "Internet for Dummies" in Russian to translated Danielle Steele novels (horrors!). I was amazed at the Russian language sources on the net. From siber you can get instructions on Russifying your computer so that with the click of a toggle, you can type in Russian or back to English. Another source of books in Russian is Hermitage... Znanie Bookstore in San Francisco has a site in progress... There are many others, so go searching!

Thanks to Amazon.com for providing this forum for all of us to tell the world about this incredible book! Everyone should read it!

This book is worth well more than 5 stars, but unfortunately that is all I am able to give it in this review. This book (the Diana Burgin & Katherine Tiernan O'Conner translation) deals with Moscow in the 1930's and what happens when the devil shows up unexpectedly one day. He doesn't arrive alone, however; he is accompanied by a beautiful (but naked) witch, a sidekick named Bezdomny who dons a broken pince-nez and a talking black cat who has a weakness for chess and vodka. A series of hilarious events events occurs, causing chaos all over Moscow and several people land in a mental institution as a result of these events. This book has frequently been compared to Goethe's "Faust" with its underlying theme of good vs evil and if the reader is familiar with Faust, the similarities between these two books will become immediately obvious. At the back of the book are the footnotes explaining some of the more obscure details that a non-native Russian probably wouldn't understand, such as various departments in the Soviet government, names of prominent Russians at that time, certain untranslatable words, etc. I particularly enjoyed this translation because it was an easy, smooth flowing read and I had no difficulties understanding what was going on. This book should be especially read by anyone who has a passion (or curiosity) for Russian literature or culture because this book was not allowed to be published during the author's lifetime..and the author knew that he would never see his book in print, but he wrote it anyway; and the literary world is all the better because he insisted on writing it.

Twenty years ago the sudden appearance of a nervous looking young security guard at the door of my office nearly gave me a heart attack. It was three in the morning, the hospital's ninth floor (the non-patient biophysics department) was otherwise completely dark and empty, and I'd been laughing so hard that I hadn't heard the security guard walk up to my door. When I looked up and saw him, the shock was like a cattle prod to the solar plexus. The guard also looked sort of scared - when he'd gotten off the elevator on what was supposed to be an empty floor, he'd heard hysterical cackling coming down a dark corridor and was torn between duty and just getting back on the elevator and pretending to have heard nothing.

The reason for my hysterical laughter was this book. I'd sat down to read it after finishing some necessary tasks and before going out for dinner that evening, completely lost track of the time, and didn't go home until I finished it near sunrise the next morning. I loved this book.

Twenty years and several reading later, I still love this book. By now you know it's a satire on Stalin's USSR. You may know that it juxtaposes Stalin's Moscow and Pilate's Jerusalem, that it's built around a book (written by the Master) within the book that takes on a life of its own until Jerusalem (the setting of the Master's book) and Moscow merge into one. The structure of the novel is ingenious and original. It follows the demented journey through Moscow of a bad poet (Ivan); the wild, cruel, and very funny escapades of the devil and his retinue (a giant talking cat, a lovely naked witch, a thug with one fang) as they turn Moscow upside down; the travails of a Soviet bureaucrat as he goes about trying to make a buck and get a better apartment; a dejected institutionalized author (the Master) and his devoted follower (Margarita); and the confrontation between Yeshua ha Nozri (Jesus the Nazarene) and Roman power in Jerusalem (Pilate). It ends for all its characters either in peace or in redemption or, in the case of a soulless Soviet editor, in nothingness.

The satire is biting, but it loses something in an age when the average college student has at best a very dim memory of a place called the USSR. I strongly recommend that the reader who wants to fully enjoy the satire buy and read Sheila Fitzpatrick's book, _Everyday Stalinism_. Even the first couple of chapters of that book provide more than enough information to let one understand and enjoy Bulgakov's novel. With satire, context is everything, and context is often absent for post-Soviet readers.

Even if one doesn't appreciate or doesn't care about the satire, this book is still a very good read. It's full of ideas that aren't limited to relevance in Stalin's Moscow, and the characters are well developed, not just props in a period piece. You don't need to be a Soviet expert to enjoy this novel. It's still magical and strange even if you know nothing of the time or place. The satire aside, this book is timeless. I don't think it's the best novel ever written, but I think it's the best Soviet novel, one of the best 20th century novels. If you read it, you'll probably never again walk under a full moon without thinking about it.