The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov

“Everything will turn out right, the world is built on that.” 

I'm not sure how the other translations differ but my version was the Penguin edition by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky. 

After reading many glowing reviews of The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov, which all seemed in general agreement that it stands as a brilliant satire and one of the great Russian novels of the 20th century, I approached it with fairly high expectations only to be severely disappointed. Perhaps it's best to not have any preconceived notions before reading a novel but it was difficult to ignore all of the immense praise. It's impossible not to read this novel within a historical context in which it was written: 1930's Russia at the height of Stalinism. Although the author should be applauded for taking a brave stand against the oppression of communist Russia and censorship, the novel itself is a tedious and desultory narrative that never seems to end. As a social/political satire, religious parable and philosophical discourse in morality, it failed to have any resonance with me at all. Don't get me wrong, the fact that Bulgakov was writing in Russia at a time when you could be killed for expressing yourself against the government is remarkable and his depiction of Christ's crucifixion from the perspective of Pontius Pilate is vividly realized but my main criticism is the writing itself: Bulgakov prose is excessively verbose making it a real chore to get through. Additionally, the use of surrealism is too ridiculous and drawn-out which impedes the narrative flow and weakens the satire.

The premise is intriguing enough: Satan and his underlings arrive in Moscow to wreck havoc on its citizens. Sounds like a really cool idea for a story right? Unfortunately, Bulgakov is unable to capitalize on this idea or make it the least bit compelling. I kept forcing myself to continue reading with the hope that the story was leading towards something significant or perhaps some great revelation would finally be revealed but alas, nothing substantial ever materialized. It was pure vanity that I managed to finish the novel at all--never a positive indication of a novel's success with me.

The first chapter starts off with great potential with Satan showing up in a park to discuss the existence of God with two writers sitting on a bench but the story quickly descends into nonsensical tomfoolery. Satan and his henchmen specifically target the arts community in which several high officials are murdered, disappear or are driven to madness (Bulgakov attack on government censorship is made quite explicit). A laborious assortment of hijinks ensue, including Satan's performance on stage at a 'Variety' show where women in the audience are given expensive clothing for free only to have it disappear later, in which they end up in pure hysterics, running naked in the street. Then one of the patients locked up in the mental institution is introduced who only goes by the name of "The Master" and his love affair with a woman named Margarita is slowly revealed. Obviously, he is meant to represent Bulgakov--a writer whose work has also been destroyed by the state. His relationship with Margarita is not exactly sexual but rather spiritual, a connection of the minds. She wants to save him from incarceration and to restore his manuscript but this only becomes possible by a random encounter with one of Satan's henchmen who shows up out of the blue and is willing to help her. She must perform certain tasks to get closer to Satan in order to earn his trust and eventually becomes a witch. She even attends Satan's ball where the guests arrive as undead murderers and other sinners of the past. Much to her chagrin, she is obligated to stand there and greet them individually. 

Later on in the novel, Margarita uses her new supernatural powers to influence Satan and help her free 'The Master' from wrongful imprisonment. With Satan's retinue, they all fly away on horses from Moscow forever. These are not spoilers since plot is irrelevant here. I understand that Bulgakov is working within the realm of 'magical realism' but  some kind of narrative cohesion should still exist. This is not the case here. The author bombards the reader with protracted subplots that are so bizarre, confusing and make very little sense. By the end of the novel, is the author suggesting that the only way to achieve freedom from communist dictatorship is to leave the country or to escape into the imagination? Also, what is he trying to say about the nature of good vs. evil if Satan is not portrayed as a nefarious villain but rather as a likeable trickster who actually helps the two heroes as opposed to deterring their goals? I honestly don't know. In fact, my aversion to the novel makes it difficult to really care about answering these kind of questions. I am just relieved to have finished it (a testament to my perseverance or stupidity in not abandoning it sooner?) and can now look forward to reading something else that will hopefully be a more rewarding reading experience. 

This novel is part of my Classics Club Challenge.

And the Classics Spin #5 Winner is...

Yay? I can't say that my enthusiasm for Tess of the D'Urbervilles is particular high since I tend to be apprehensive about 19th century novels but on a more positive note, at least Middlemarch was avoided this round. Nonetheless, this also seems like the perfect opportunity to finally read something by Thomas Hardy, one of those highly praised Victorian realist authors with a reputation for writing some very grim and depressing stories. Sounds right up my alley!

For those who have read this novel, what are your thoughts on it? I would appreciate any feedback and it would be helpful to know what to expect with this one.

The Classics Spin #5

I missed the last four Spin events hosted by the Classics Club so its time to finally participate in one of them. The challenge this time around is to list 20 books left to read from the Classics Club Challenge, which will then become my Classics Spin list. A random number (between 1-20) will be selected on Monday by members running the event and then it is up to participants to read the book corresponding with the chosen number by April 2. Sounds like a hoot! Or it could totally backfire and I have to end up reading one of those intimidating novels on my list like Middlemarch by George Eliot, Swann's Way by Proust or The Brothers Karamazov by Dostoeyevsky. Ok, here we go:

1. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
2. Persuasion by Jane Austen
3. Swann's Way by Proust
4. The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath
5. The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck
6. East of Eden by John Steinbeck
7. A Room of One's Own by Virginia Woolf
8. Giovanni's Room by James Baldwin
9. Native Son by Richard Wright
10. The Brothers Karamazov by Dostoeyevsky
11. Notes from the Underground by Dostoeyevsky
12. Jacob's Room by Virginia Woolf
13. Orlando by Virginia Woolf
14. Stoner by John Edward Williams
15. One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez 
16. Sula by Toni Morrison
17. The Awakening and Other Stories by Kate Chopin
18. Middlemarch by George Eliot
19. North and South by Mary Barton
20. Tess of the d'Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy

The top 5 most anticipated:

1. Stoner by John Edward Williams
2. Orlando by Virginia Woolf
3. Sula by Toni Morrison
4. Jacob's Room by Virginia Woolf 
5. Notes from the Underground by Dostoeyevsky 

Happy reading and good luck to everyone participating in the Spin!

Between the Acts by Virginia Woolf

 “Love. Hate. Peace. Three emotions made the ply of human life.”

A deep sense of foreboding and anxiety underlies Virginia Woolf's Between the Acts—her last novel published a few months after her suicide. Stylistically, it falls somewhere between her early ‘traditional novels’ and experimental phase but as the swan song of her literary career, I believe it falls short of an artistic success. Surely, it can be argued that Woolf did not have the opportunity to properly revise the final draft for publication, which therefore contributed to unevenness or unfinished composition. A certain level of narrative cohesion does exist but viewed within the larger context of the novel’s thematic framework, there seems to be lacking a sense of complete harmony that connects all of its disparate elements and ideological concerns together. A counter-argument could be that this fragmented approach is intentional—that is to say, Woolf is attempting to present a civilization on the brink of total ruin with the onset of WWII, the instability of social order along with the disappearance of traditional class hierarchies. One of the recurring statements throughout the novel is “Dispersed are we” and serves as an extended metaphor underlying much of the text: English social hierarchy is breaking down, permanence is fleeting and as Woolf writes, “scraps, orts and fragments” will be all that remains (221). As a conservative, she believes strongly in upholding traditional values, fearing that the aftermath of WWII will bring a disruption to social order and ultimately, chaos. Perhaps it is presumptuous to speculate that this dread accompanying such drastic social change had an effect on her decision to take her own life but it is entirely possible.


The novel takes place over the course of one day in 1939 at Pointz Hall, a large country estate in England where the villagers put on a pageant to raise money for the local church. Thus, the title takes on several meanings, since it not only refers to the commotion and conversations amongst various characters during the intermissions but rather ostensibly, it represents the novel’s preoccupation with the dichotomy between private feelings of a psychological nature (a familiar subject for Woolf) and the action or non-action as a result of that particular impulse. Similar to her other novels, she places a great deal of emphasis on inner-consciousness, inner voice vs. outer voice, self-reflection and repressed feelings. The exploration of art and artistic expression takes on a very important and complex role in the works of Virginia Woolf but in this particular novel, it functions profoundly in contradistinction to the assessment of English history—the precocious fragility of social order with the threat of fascism. Woolf is suggesting here that art can be a lens to view the world; a way to interpret meaning (she makes this explicitly clear in Act IV of the pageant when the players hold up mirrors so the audience members can see their reflection to represent “the present time: ourselves”). For example, here is one of the famous lines in the novel: “Books are the mirrors to the soul” (22). She also goes on to write: “For I hear music, they were saying. Music wakes up. Music makes us see the hidden, join the broken. Look and listen” (143).  Art cannot escape life; possessing the power to influence personal beliefs and ideologies; it can produce compassion to take action but can also be a way to connect people together. Additionally, the lines between art and reality become blurred.


I have barely glossed the surface and there are so many layers of subtext to analyze. Other interesting aspects to consider might include: Nature vs. civilization, nature vs. art, sexual desire vs. savagery, past vs. present, alienation, the paradox/dialectical framework, fish and water imagery, the play within the play or the pattern of cycles. It is not uncommon for Woolf to be oblique and often frustrating to read in her sophisticated approach to narrative but I have always admired her aesthetics—she is inimitable, her words flow with such beauty, passion and pathos; a perfect blend of prose and poetry. Between the Acts is no exception and contains her trademark writing style that she is famous for and this saves it from being a total waste of time. My dissatisfaction stems mostly from the inability to comprehend the overwhelming perplexities and implications raised by the novel. Essentially, it left me feeling quite indifferent and I lack the patience to produce a thorough close-reading of the text. It seems to reason that those of a more intellectual persuasion, Woolf aficionados or literary scholars are bound to appreciate the complex intricacies with a much higher level of enjoyment than I could ever muster. 

 This novel is part of my Classics Club Challenge.

Making up for Monday: Character Fun

This is a weekly meme held by Tiffany over at An Avid Reader. She asks: If you could be any character in any book, who would be and what would you do as them in their book? 

Oh, that's an easy one: Gully Foyle from The Stars My Destination. The ability to 'jaunt' or teleport across time and space would be a godly super-power to have. So much of outer-space has been unexplored and I would spend my days trying to unravel the mysteries of the universe, hopping around from one galaxy to another, having a front row seat at the magnificent beauty of astrological phenomena such as supernovas or enjoying an afternoon tea party on distant planets. Yeah, that's the life me.

The Waves by Virginia Woolf

“How much better is silence; the coffee cup, the table. How much better to sit by myself like the solitary sea-bird that opens its wings on the stake. Let me sit here for ever with bare things, this coffee cup, this knife, this fork, things in themselves, myself being myself.”

I wrote an extensive review but blogspot failed to save it properly and now its gone. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

Anyways, here's a shorter review instead: 

Considering that To the Lighthouse and Mrs. Dalloway are two of my favorite novels of all time, my expectations were set extremely high for The Waves, which, unfortunately, left me with mixed emotions. This work is definitely not recommended for Virginia Woolf initiates since it will likely discourage one from reading anything by her ever again. It requires a great deal of patience from the reader and encourages deep reflection. Her experimental stream-of-consciousness style of writing is sublime as much as it is dense and overwhelming. Woolf takes a sledge hammer to the traditional narrative form leaving scattered fragments of memory bursting with poetic language. The primary focus here is on exploring human consciousness and inner experience. The novel follows the lives of six friends from childhood as they mature into adulthood but only presents their individual inner monologues. Life, death and everything in between is contemplated and analyzed by these characters to form a gestalt of human thought patterns. 

This is poetry in novel form. One does not simply read The Waves like any ordinary novel-- it must be experienced. I found it more rewarding to pick out a random page and slowly submerse myself into the text, letting the majestic beauty of Woolf's prose wash over me, carrying me along in a current of ebbing and flowing thoughts towards transcendence or life-altering epiphanies. Many critics and people whose opinions I trust on the subject of literature declare The Waves to be Virginia Woolf's crowning achievement. Perhaps they are correct in this assessment because it is the quintessential novel that fully immerses itself in the innovative stream-of-consciousness style that made her famous as a writer. Nonetheless, I did not find it nearly as accessible as To the Lighthouse or Mrs. Dalloway and often struggled to establish a connection with the material. She is operating on a much higher intellectual level that proved very difficult to comprehend at times, often leaving me cold and distant. However, Woolf's ability to capture moments of truth and profound insight of what it means to be human is uncanny. Her prose is absolutely mesmerizing in its beauty and innovative use of language. There is a great novel buried somewhere within this perplexing work but it is going to take me a life-time to even begin a thorough understanding of its many layers.

This novel is part of the Classics Club Challenge.

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury

“Stuff your eyes with wonder, he said, live as if you'd drop dead in ten seconds. See the world. It's more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories.”

"It was a pleasure to burn." Wow, what a great opening sentence that immediately hooks the reader; or at least that was the effect on me and I was unable to put the novel down for very long before the nagging compulsion to start reading again became almost too much to bear. I sneaked in some reading during work hours, took several "washroom breaks" and even missed my stop on the subway line home. A testament to the power of great literature--the capability to capture the reader's imagination, inspire, inform and enlighten. Ironically, the plot of this novel involves an oppressive state that is intent on the total destruction of the written word for some of those very reasons. It is easier to control a society if free-will and independent thought is marginalized.

Ray Bradbury was a true visionary. Here is another novel that has been on my radar for many years but never got around to picking up. I am ashamed to admit that it took so long to finally read this brilliant literary work. I have often praised his talents as a short-story writer but after finishing Fahrenheit 451, I can proudly declare him to be one of my favorite authors that I have had the distinguished pleasure of ever reading. He possesses such a wild imagination, overflowing with so many fascinating story-ideas and cannot be pigeon-holed into writing in the same genre or becoming anachronistic. Despite how bizarre the story may be, his works remain distinctively human--that is to say, there often exists an underlying subtext regarding various aspects of humanity and social order that keeps his ideas relevant. He always remains fresh even though some of his novels were written more than half a century ago. He is fully capable of writing some of the creepiest horror stories or can spin frightening dystopias such as this novel, which takes place in a world where firefighters no longer put out fires; rather, they are responsible for starting them with their main prerogative being to burn books. With increased dependence on technology and brain-washing by the media, most individuals are living in a fog of illusion. Doesn't this sound eerily familiar in today's technologically obsessed world?

I find that what places him far and above other writers (regardless of genre) is that he is a master story-teller and has the literary talent to back it up. Anyone can write a story but to tell a good story with purpose, style and conviction that leaves the reader shaken up and wanting more is rare. He is the type of writer that I aspire to be one day. It still saddens me to reflect on his passing, but much like in this novel, the preservation of his memory through the many literary works he has left behind will hopefully not be forgotten.

This novel is part of the Classics Club Challenge.

Brideshead Revisted by Evelyn Waugh

“Sometimes, I feel the past and the future pressing so hard on either side that there's no room for the present at all.”

Please forgive me if I don't put on my black-and-white evening tail coat and join the dinner party gathered in the 'Tapestry Hall' to raise a glass of vintage 1906 Montrachet wine in admiration of Evelyn Waugh's much beloved novel Brideshead Revisited. Don't get me wrong, the novel is very disappointing in many aspects (especially in regards to the weak story and banal characters) but it does still contain some substantial merit. I do not mean to come across as impertinent towards Mr. Waugh. Indeed, I would actually be glad to make a toast to his elegant writing style that can be most clever and delectable to read when he does not fall into the habit of going overboard with the flowery prose. For example, the way Waugh has the narrator Charles Ryder describe one of his sexual experiences is most ingenious: "It was as though a deed of conveyance of her narrow loins had been drawn and sealed. I was making my first entry as the freeholder of a properly I would enjoy and develop at leisure" (248). Who would have thought a blue-print construction metaphor could be both funny and titillating? Nonetheless, I cannot fully praise Evelyn Waugh's virtues as being one of the 'great novelists' of the 20th century--at least not on the basis of this particular work or Vile Bodies which I read last year and happened to enjoyed a great deal more for its brevity, biting satirical humor, snappy dialogue and twisted revelations. In contrast, Brideshead Revisited is the more ambitious novel but at 350 pages, the narrative is a tedious chore to get through that revels in superfluous detail and leaves much to be desired. Although the story deals with several important issues such as religion, class, marriage, alcoholism and most importantly the changing social structures at the beginning of the 20th century, Waugh only seems to gloss the surface. Or, perhaps his attempt at subtlety were lost on me. He is successful in wrapping up the novel with splendid irony but takes far too long to get there. Furthermore, as much as I enjoy his writing style, I can only seem to handle it in small doses before losing patience. 

Divided into three sections, the novel is narrated by Charles Ryder, a middle-aged British officer who recollects on his early years as a young Oxford student where he meets the flamboyant and eccentric Sebastian Flyte--an important figure who has a major influence on his life's trajectory--and continues to reminisce all the way up until the present time when he is deployed to fight in WWII. It is worth noting that the secondary title of the novel is called "The sacred and profane memories of Charles Ryder." Once again, Waugh displays his clever use of irony, with particular emphasis on the novel's central focus: religion. Charles is sharing some of his most personal and harrowing experiences, which in effect can be perceived as sacred to him; that is to say, his memories are regarded with much nostalgia and reverence as one might bestow upon a deity. Here is a striking passage that illustrates the novel's focus on memories and sentimentalism: "I should like to bury something precious in every place where I've been happy and then, when I was old and ugly and miserable, I could come back and dig it up and remember" (26). If only Waugh could have included more profund moments such as this one to give the story a much needed boost in emotional resonance. For Charles, the past serves as a time of bliss containing youthful dalliance, drinking and wistful languor but it also serves as a painful reminder of loss. His life's story is 'profane' because Charles is a self-proclaimed agnostic and his decision to live a secular life has dire consequences, especially when it comes to love. Ironically, Waugh seems to be making the argument that love serves as a precursor to faith, religious belief system (in this case, Catholicism) and ultimately, salvation.

Despite my criticisms towards this novel, I am not giving up on Evelyn Waugh just yet. There are still plenty of other works in his oeuvre such as A Handful of Dust and Scoop which might help to redeem his stature in my eyes but he will likely take a seat on the back-burner before I get around to reading anything else by him.

This is the first novel I have read for 2014 and part of my Classics Club Challenge.

V. by Thomas Pynchon

“Life's single lesson: that there is more accident to it than a man can ever admit to in a lifetime and stay sane.”

The question remains: Who or what exactly is the mysterious "V"? Even after 600+ pages, there is no clear answer and to be honest, I really don't care to wrack my brain over it. Is she an actual person or a metaphor? Perhaps both. Or maybe she is simply a MacGuffin--like the brief-case in "Pulp Fiction"--an abstract concept with no real value other than functioning as a plot device to move the narrative forward. Unfortunately, there is no pay-off at the end and much of the novel is a sprawling mess. As one of the main characters named Stencil (almost every single character possesses some kind of figurative appellation), later states, "events seem to be ordered in an ominous logic" (449). Indeed. Thomas Pynchon's novels are notorious for being challenging and after struggling through V, which often left me baffled, producing the urge to pull my hair from its roots, I can certainly attest to this fact. It's not so much that the story is difficult to follow exactly but rather, his abstruse style of writing often engulfs the actual narrative: he employs sophisticated diction (be sure to have a dictionary handy) with an oblique, protracted and playful aesthetic, overflowing with latent metaphors, information and references that can be overwhelming to the new initiate. Go ahead, call me a dolt for not being able to fully comprehend the literary genius of Thomas Pynchon but if this debut novel shares certain characteristics with his other works, consider me extremely apprehensive to seek out anything else written by him--his esoteric style is just not my cup of earl-grey.

I wish Pynchon had focused more on the character of Benny Profane--the self proclaimed "schlemiel" who drifts around New York, working odd jobs (ex: alligator hunting in the sewers), adopting a bohemian lifestyle--or on the other eccentric members of the "Sick Crew" such as Pig Bodine and Slab (an artist who only paints cheese danishes). These sections are often very amusing in a bizarre way. However, the novel becomes increasingly frustrating when it switches to the character of Stencil who is searching for "V" in the hopes of discovering her true identity. He comes across various clues and then provides a "Stencilized" version of the evidence, which in turn, provides Pynchon the opportunity to write some of the most self-indulgent, convoluted and pedantic prose that I have ever encountered. His vocabulary and encyclopedic knowledge is impressively vast (even more astounding is that he wrote this novel at the age of 26!) but these Stencil chapters come across like stylistic masturbation.

If I disliked the novel so much then why give it 2 stars? Again, Benny Profane is a wonderful character and his chapters along with other members of the "Sick Crew" (of course, excluding Stencil) were the most rewarding aspects. Also, there is a "great" novel buried deep somewhere in this ambitious monstrosity but it will require a great deal of effort on the part of the reader to dig for it: a thorough analysis of each chapter would be a start. Good luck.