Follow me, reader! Who told you that there is no true, eternal, and faithful love in the world! May the liar have his foul tongue cut out! Follow me, my reader, and only me, and I will show you such a love!
— Mikhail Bulgakov, The Master and Margarita pg. 180
I need to start doing research on translations for foreign language novels before reading them. If it's been translated more than once, which is the case with a lot of classic literature, there will certainly be differences. The translator's choice of words, sentence structure, and overall prose will affect the final text greatly.
Translating fiction is an art form all on it's own. It isn't as simple as making a source text understandable in another language. There's a lot of nuance in how something is expressed in different languages. There's often a fundamental trade-off between mirroring the exact words and expressing the meaning of the words. Some of this I learned while reading this article recently on translating the works of Homer. I found it quite fascinating.
For The Master & Margarita, I read Mirra Ginsburg's translation, which I learned later is actually incomplete. Ginsberg's translation is based on the Soviet censored version of the novel, published in Moscow magazine in 1966. Ginsburg's translation was completed only a year later; it was the first English translation available. Since then, there have been several other translations published—and varying opinions on the merits of each. But the fact of the matter remains that the Ginsburg translation is based on an edited version of Mikhail Bulgakov's original text. If I could go back in time, I'd do more research and choose a more recent, and more complete, translation.
But barring my time machine becoming operational anytime soon, I'll more likely just re-read The Master & Margarita some day, because I really liked it. I'll try a different translation next time.
The Devil Wears Pravda
The Master & Margarita is a story of three narratives. The first concerns the events in Moscow in the 1930's when the Devil descends upon it. The second is the story of the protagonists—the "Master" and his lover, Margarita. The third narrative takes place in Jerusalem during the time of Christ, centering on the decision of his death by the bureaucratic governor, Pontius Pilate. All three of these storylines are interwoven throughout the book. Bulgakov eventually ties them together to form a poignant ending to the book.
What I loved about The Master & Margarita was reading about the absurdity and chaos that befalls Moscow when the Devil comes to visit. I found it really funny. In the story, this "incarnation" of the devil calls himself Woland, which is an ancient German word for the Devil and a reference from Goethe's Faust.
Woland and his troupe of hellish bandits inflict all kinds of evil on the citizens of Moscow. They have a flair for the dramatic too. Between the black magic act at the Variety Theater, Satan's Ball, and the curiously apropos punishments inflicted on their victims, the troupe knew how to put on a show.
But Woland's acts of evil were not for the sake of evil. Bulgakov did not paint the Devil as a one dimensional character, a classic and singular force of cruelty and destruction. Instead, Bulgakov sought to depict evil as a counter-force that balances the world and strives for justice in its own way. Woland certainly punished people for their flaws, but he also rewarded them for good deeds too despite their flaws. For instance, Margarita's selflessness at Satan's Ball was rewarded by Woland with the return of her lover, the Master, and his lost manuscript.
Bulgakov wanted to depict "evil" as a necessary part of existence. Maybe he was drawn to the idea of opposing, balancing forces because it's so antithetical to the one-party state and the centralized control of a dictatorship. There is a need for power to be checked, because what is "good" and what is "evil" are both subjective and they deserve fair representation.
what would your good be doing if there were no evil, and what would the earth look like if shadows disappeared from it? After all, shadows are cast by objects and people. There is the shadow of my sword. But there are also shadows of trees and living creatures. Would you like to denude the earth of all the trees and all the living beings in order to satisfy your fantasy of rejoicing in the naked light? You are a fool.”
— Bulgakov, pg. 280
Soviet Satire
Why did Mikhail Bulgakov write a story about the Devil coming to Moscow during the Soviet era?
Bulgakov lived his whole life under the Russian empire. He witnessed the Russian Civil War as a young man, and lived the remainder of his life in Moscow under the totalitarian regimes of Vladimir Lenin, and then Joseph Stalin. These were times of great social upheaval and transfers of power. As a result, there was vast corruption and poverty exposed in the years that followed. Bulgakov did not have an easy life, at least professionally. This book felt like a lifetime of dissatisfaction and repression, expressed in a darkly comedic way.
For most of his life, Bulgakov was a prisoner in his own country—denied the ability to write freely and also denied the chance to leave. He constantly battled the establishment due to the inappropriate subject matter of his art, which was often critical of the government and anti-communist. Due to his controversial writing, he was barred from Russia's publishing industry and unable to release any of his novels. You can feel his disdain for the literary establishment throughout The Master and Margarita.
Bulgakov poured all his frustration and disappointment into The Master and Margarita through the story of the Master, a semi-biographical character. In the story, the Master is a writer who's laughed out of the literary community for attempting to write a book about Pontius Pilate. He is crushed by this, and despite the reassurance and love of his mistress, Margarita, he throws the manuscript for his book into a fire during a fit of depression one night. This is based on Bulgakov himself throwing the original manuscript for The Master & Margarita into a fire in 1930, due to his certain doubt of ever being published.
In the story, the Master is saved by Margarita, who uses her wish granted by Woland to return the manuscript to them from the ashes. And of course, this sort of miracle was easy enough for the Devil to perform. Woland's assurance that "manuscripts don’t burn" became a famous phrase in Russia after the publishing of this book. It's a defiant proclamation for the indestructible nature of art, freedom of expression, and our collective desire to preserve these things.
“Forgive me, but I won’t believe it,” said Woland. “This cannot be, manuscripts don’t burn.” He turned to Behemoth and said: “Come on, Behemoth, let us have the novel.”
— Bulgakov, pg. 229
Unfortunately for Bulgakov, he had to completely rewrite the story from memory. But thankfully he did, because it became one of the most acclaimed novels of the 20th century.
A Tragic Comedy
The Master & Margarita is celebrated because it's truly a piece of art. Bulgakov used his art as a response, an expression of emotion, and a reflection of the world. Living within the Soviet Union was hard, depressing, and dangerous. As a citizen, the juxtaposition between the propagandist messaging of a glorious country and the sad reality of daily life would be embittering to say the least. The irony of a Marxist revolution, which promised a Utopian society, and the corrupted execution of this dream was a harsh truth that was impossible for anyone to talk about.
Living through all this, Mikhail Bulgakov sought to find the words to express this suffering and confusion. Through the use of allegory, he produced a remarkable story that combines religion, philosophy, autobiography, governmental critique, and comedy. It's a dark, subdued comedy about madness and the human desire for control, even in the face of the supernatural.
Unfortunately, Bulgakov was not around by the time The Master and Margarita was published. It was published by his widow (not named Margarita) 26 years after his death. And even then, it had to be published in a censored form in Moscow magazine. It took many years before the novel, in it's original form, was published, translated, and available for the world to experience.
Bulgakov lived a tragic life, and he suffered an early death, but by the grace of God, or possibly the Devil, his most important manuscript didn't burn.
Gods, gods! How sad the evening earth! How mysterious the mists over the bogs! Whoever has wandered in these mists, whoever suffered deeply before death, whoever flew over this earth burdened beyond human strength knows it. The weary one knows it. And he leaves without regret the mists of the earth, its swamps and rivers, and yields himself with an easy heart to the hands of death, knowing that it alone can bring surcease.
— Bulgakov, pg. 290