★★★★★ 5
Brilliant, Visceral Portrayal of the Eastern-Block Landscape and Imagination
Wow-just WOW! Bulgakov simply blew me away with his dark & very eastern-block humor, twisted ironies, brilliant metaphors, infinite layers of meaning, his surrealist aesthetic and refusal to follow any "rules" of any particular genre. Within a few chapters, this book quickly moved up to my #1 Most Brilliant Books Ever Written list, and after the last pages, I have a feeling it will stay here for a long time (perhaps until I take up Gogol, or so I am told).
There are many layers to this novel, a plethora of imagery, metaphors, and references that have been studied in hundreds of scholarly articles and tens of thousands of journalistic/reviewer articles, so I will not attempt to gloss superficially over any themes. Rather I will focus on the ironic humor, which touched me most profoundly, as a person born and raised under Ceausescu's regime (Romania).
Ironic, tragic, dark and depressing humor was central to Eastern European resistance to communism, and served a healing as well as communal/relational function. Even today, visiting Bucharest, the dark humor remains, and is spoken, without reservation, between strangers at bus stations, intimate family members, colleagues at the office, etc--it is a key thread of our identity and how we relate to and understand the world. I have never ready any work that captures this humor better than Bulgakov.
A process that is emphasized in the literature on communism is the development of a duality of psychic space, a mode of schizophrenic resistance. To many who sought refuge in books and humor, this fragmentation transformed into a positive experience: a honed, rich duality was a sign of strength, showing how one could successfully detach herself from the absence of things and to fill space with meaning in spite of adversity. These processes were transmitted historically, and taught one how to survive without alienating oneself psychologically. Andrei Pleşu remembers humor about lack as a "prop of survival". Oana-Maria Hock remembers the theatre as providing a "surrogate toughness", a form of resistance in the face of material insecurity. In a place in which material necessities were difficult to come by, disassociation, particularly through artistic release, served to create spaces of plenty.
Even though this work may be read by any audience, and though most find it brilliant, it particularly speaks to those who have lived through the horrors of Eastern-block communism and its historical particularities in this region; the humor especially is not only deeply ironic and depressing, but also is born of an experience difficult to describe if one has not lived it: the reference, for example, to "second-grade-fresh" fish.
It may seem superficially funny to anyone who has not experienced rationing as a way of life, but the phrase has many layers of meaning: first, as a reference to the rationing process/how hard it was to find food, second as a reference to the Eastern-block communist way of meticulously categorizing all things (such as different grades of products, of which "first grade" was of course never available to the non-connected citizen), third as reflection of how people in this region relied on deeply disturbing humor to pacify, at least temporarily, their disquietude, fourth, illustrating the peculiarities of communication during this time (when everything had at least a double meaning, under the politically correct and allowed language), and fifth, it brings back the embodied feeling itself of how one used to imagine the world before 1989--it is absolutely *visceral*, because this is EXACTLY how people talked. Everything was a private joke--and every comment was either ironic or meant something other than what it actually said.
Another example: in the Epilogue, when Bulgakov takes on the narrator role and tells us what happened after the Devil left Moscow, he first mentions the plight of black cats: "A hundred or so of these peaceful animals... were shot or otherwise destroyed in various parts of the country"... The ridiculousness of his concern for the cats considering circumstances is another perfect example of the twisted humor used during this period as a means of resistance.
Further, Bulgakov continues his story, citizens were goaded into public vigilantism of capturing black cats and reporting with them to police stations; there is even a story of a woman who comes to a station to vouch for the "character" of her cat. Clearly, this is not a story about cats, but a reference to the Secret Police, the dreaded disappearances, and the ways in which regular citizens were complicit in the process--yet at the same time, it is also a story about how Eastern block policies/dictators actually did value "cats"/animals above people (not to mention that people were treated AS animals, another double meaning).
In an even darker twist, after several pages, Bulgakov moves on from the cat stories: "Besides the cats, there were a few people who suffered some minor unpleasantness. Several arrests were made... A lot of other things happened, but one can't remember everything."
And with this poignant reference to the communist culture of "forgetting" (scrubbed history books, banned authors, emphasis on the present and future at the expense of the past incarnated in communist policies, purging of national archives, etc) Bulgakov ends by reminding us of the dark and tragic experience of Eastern-Block communism.
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Reviewed in the United States on December 12, 2013
