Translated by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky
Happily, other book bloggers are made of sterner stuff, and with their good example to spur me on (many thanks to Random, Uncertain and Gabriel!) the book is finally read.
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Having reached the halfway point in both books (Demons/The Master and Margarita) I have several more or less trivial observations.
Firstly, that (near!) simultaneous reading can be good thing, but a considered and careful choice of compatible books is essential.
Secondly, my disparaging remarks to the OH that Russian names are a doddle, you just need to get a grip… Well, with double helpings of Russian names that one is coming back to bite me in the ass.
Less trivially, I am stunned by the similarities of the two novels, given that they were completed some seventy years apart. I keep having to remind myself that Demons is set way before the Soviet era, and yet both books reference common phenomena, for instance, ‘collective protest’ against ‘outrageous acts,’ versus a press campaign against a book denied publication, or the pervasive presence of ‘secret police.’ It is certainly giving me a more cohesive view of Russia than I have had before, not to mention providing fascinating insights into the political background of Anna Karenina.
It also appears that a basic grounding in Pushkin would be A Very Good Thing.
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This was sold to me, enthusiastically, as the best of Bulgakov. I bought it at the time (the sentiment and the book) but then had doubts. Following an earlier bad experience with The Master and Margarita.
Luckily Kerry came along, and The White Guard returned to the top of the pile.
The White Guard follows the fortunes of a White Russian family, the Turbins, during the Russian revolution. I was reminded of Orwell’s Homage to Catalonia, in the sense that I felt I needed to know more about the historical circumstances in order to fully access the story. However, Google was not available to me at the time, so I had to struggle on with only the information given. As it turns out this was no bad thing; the civil war, as amply illustrated in the text, is based on rumours and suppositions, misinformation and luck. With a global information network at one’s fingertips this is harder to appreciate.
Homage to Catalonia impressed me very much, in large part as a consequence of Orwell’s humbling humanity. The White Guard is also splendidly humane. As society increasingly falls apart the rot stops at the family unit, and it is from the family unit that regrowth is possible. The characterisation of the family is discussed in depth at Hungry Like the Woolf.
As I may have commented previously, it is the Russian-ness of the characters in Russian literature that really appeals to me, and The White Guard is no exception in terms of frank and flamboyant characters.
There are also hints of the same whimsicality which simultaneoulsy render The Master and Margarita fascinating and utterly, frustratingly, impenetrable. In The White Guard the whimsicality serves to heighten the sense of bewilderment and unreality of civil war without obscuring the story beyond comprehension. Another quirk of Bulgakov’s writing which I enjoyed was the outrageous dead-pan social commentary, almost sneaked in under the radar, the sort of thing which, in a verbal situation, would cause you to wonder if you had heard aright:
“There came journalists from Moscow and Petersburgh, corrupt, grasping and cowardly. Prostitutes. Respectable ladies from aristocratic families and their delicare daughters, pale depraved women from Petersburgh with carmine-painted lips;”
A major theme of the book is waiting. Depicted brilliantly with “the clock-faces of all the people” and a clock which “did not strike twelve, the hands stood still and silent.” Since I was, at the time of reading, awaiting the return of my husband, out on the Scottish hills after dark, unauthorised, this struck a stronger chord than it might otherwise have done.
Ultimately I found the book fatalistic. Whilst the Turbins persevere, with humour and faith, there is a suggestion that they strive in spite of the fate which they expect to befall them. There were also parts of this book that seemed like red herrings… but I am quite, quite sure that this was not the case. Missing out on sub-plots is no bad thing; it’s good to have a reason to return.
