I've finished The
Master and Margarita (translation by Mirra Ginsburg), which proved itself to be one of the leisurely activities that I looked forward to during my downtime, as I have gotten a bit busier than I had been. Bulgakov's Satan is a rather charming and cultivated gentleman, who is more readable as human than any others of his sort I've ever come across. The reader becomes unassumingly attached to the evil group, and it is a wonder that though Woland and his crew's inner feelings are never mentioned, they carry more depth than any of the other sympathetic characters (though another part of it may be that I am terrible with names and had a hard time connecting with, let alone keeping straight the many long Russian names that were introduced).I have to share, as it won my heart over ultimately, my favorite excerpt of the book;
"The tom, covered with dust and standing on his hind legs, was in the meantime bowing to Margarita. Now he had a white evening bow tie around his neck; a ladies' mother-of-pearl opera glass dangled from a ribbon on his chest. Besides, his whiskers were gilded
"What's this now?" cried Woland. "Why did you gild your whiskers? And why the devil do you need a tie if you have no trousers?"
"A cat isn't supposed to wear trousers, Messire," the tom answered with great dignity. "You will tell me to put on boots next!...But have you ever seen anyone at a ball without a tie? I don't intend to make myself a laughing stock and risk being kicked out!..."
A cat with gilded whiskers, imagine. How darling. And yes, I am a child for being amused so by that.
In short, the novel lives in the realm of the fantastic. I cannot say that I got all that I should have from it based on my frequent confusion, which renders this reading somewhat useless. I definitely need to go back and read it again in between some other readings to grasp its full merit, and so I will only really comment on its blatant surrealism, and my appreciation for its success in depicting an antagonist as both protagonist in the minds of the reader, as well as one that is emotionally favored.
It is also necessary for me to acknowledge my despair at the closing of Borders. Oh it is like my childhood love dissipating. Heartbreak. If it means a step toward the death of paper books it is a very sad thing indeed.
Next on the agenda, #256. The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera. Another book that was charitably given to me.
