I heard a lot of praise for Bulgakov’s oeuvre in the past, so I decided to give it a go.
I have read Russian literature in the past by recommendation of family and friends who always showed much interest in it; be it Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, Chekhov or Pushkin.
But recently I noticed that knowledge of Russian literature virtually stops at the onset of the revolution. When it comes to the Soviet era, there is a sort of intentional silence regarding the literature of that time, at least in the West and its colonized peripheries. Anecdotally, I once had a conversation with my mother during which she claimed that the Soviet period was a dark time to be living in Russia. When I asked her what’s the basis of her statement, she said this is based on the novels she read, citing Dostoevsky and Tolstoy. The awkward smile on her face after telling her that these authors died decades before the revolution was priceless; bless her heart, but I am digressing.
When a few exceptions of Soviet literature emerge out of the iron curtain, it turns out to be some anticommunist rambling, just like Bulgakov’s Master and Margarita.
Considering the critical acclaim, it feels wrong to say that I found it to be average. Was I supposed to cheer for the devil and his retinue as they terrorize Moscow? Maybe it’s my ideological orientation which prevents me from fully engaging with the novel, and I’m alright with that. Though I did enjoy the chapters narrating Pontius Pilate’s encounter with Yeshua Ha-Nozri.
Anyhow, was Soviet literature ever popular? Did it die out after the collapse of the union? Or has it always been curtailed in the West?
Most good literature is critical of the society in which it’s written—in the west, anticapitalist novels tent to be better than anticommunist ones, but we shouldn’t assume the same was true within the Soviet Union.