Some books are more than just stories; they are artistic and spiritual testaments. One such novel, a true titan of world literature, is so often called a favorite that one might forget its profound complexity. But its popularity does not diminish its value. It is a work that wrestles with the eternal themes that haunt us all: the place of the artist in a hostile world, the ambiguous nature of evil, the struggle between freedom and tyranny, and the divine and demonic sparks within the human soul. This was the author's most personal text, a final artistic apotheosis he worked on for 12 years, from 1928 until his death in 1940.

Even as he was going blind, he continued to make corrections, dictating changes to his wife, Elena. On his last notebook, he left a plea: “Finish before I die.” He did not manage to, and so the novel as we have it is a work frozen in time, a masterpiece that its creator never saw in its final form.

The Author and His Tormented Prophet

The novel we know was not the novel that was first conceived. Initially, it was meant to be a story about Satan arriving in a bustling capital, a "novel about the devil." The protagonist was to be an erudite professor of history who studied demonology, a man of intellect pitted against the true lord of darkness, Woland. Early titles revolved entirely around this demonic figure: The Black Magician, The Juggler with a Hoof, The Great Chancellor.

But over time, the story deepened. The professor disappeared, and in his place emerged the Master. As the writer's own story became more complicated, so too did the plot. The love story of Margarita was woven in, and the historical chapters concerning Yeshua Ha-Notsri appeared, adding a profound philosophical layer. The author began pouring his own life into the pages. His wife, Elena, whom he affectionately called “my Margarita,” is the undeniable prototype for the novel's heroine. She was his steadfast inspiration, a woman ready to sacrifice everything for her beloved's art, much like the wives of Tolstoy or Dostoevsky.

Think of the scene where Margarita desperately tries to salvage the Master's manuscript from the fire. For the sake of her beloved and his creation, she is even willing to sell her soul to the devil. This was written from experience. The author faced misunderstanding, relentless censorship, and political repression. The Master’s fate—his persecution, his creative crisis, his eventual breakdown—is a direct reflection of the author’s own painful relationship with the state authorities. "I hated this novel," the Master says, "and I'm afraid I'm sick. I'm scared." Only Margarita could save him.

The author imbued the Master with his own traits, and the Master, in turn, gave his experiences to Yeshua, the protagonist of his novel. These three figures—author, Master, and Yeshua—become intertwined as prophets crucified for their truth. Their message is that censorship and power cannot destroy an idea.

A Portrait of a Soulless Society

In stark contrast to these prophetic figures are the citizens of the capital. The city depicted in the novel is a brilliant, satirical portrait of a system suffocated by lies, hypocrisy, and bureaucratic decay. The author pays special attention to the literary world, embodied by the garish Writers' Union building. Here, authors are more concerned with their privileges and cafeteria access than with genuine creativity. The very names of the rooms—the "Fish and Dacha Section," the billiard room—have nothing to do with literature. It’s a damning metaphor for how art becomes soulless under the iron fist of state censorship.

It is no surprise that the work was published only 26 years after the author's death, and even then, with 12% of its text censored. Passages that cast an unfavorable light on the reality of the regime were excised, including Woland’s famous observation that the housing problem had ruined the people of the capital.

The Literary Kaleidoscope

"Who are you, then?"
"I am part of that power which eternally wills evil and eternally works good."

This quote from Goethe's Faust, which serves as the novel's epigraph, is the key to unlocking its rich tapestry of allusions. The book is a literary kaleidoscope, born from the history of world literature. The most obvious prototypes for the main characters are Faust and his beloved Gretchen (whose full name is Margarita). The novel shares two central themes with Goethe’s tragedy: the pact between a man and the devil, and the power of self-sacrificing love. The very name Woland is taken from a scene in Faust, where Mephistopheles calls himself "Junker Woland." The allusions don't stop there. Woland's cane with its poodle-head knob is a direct reference to Mephistopheles, who first appears to Faust as a black poodle.

Woland’s demonic retinue is just as layered. The beloved cat, Behemoth, draws his name from a monstrous figure in the Old Testament and was also the name of a demon of gluttony, which explains the cat's insatiable appetite. The menacing Azazello’s name comes from Azazel, a fallen angel from the Book of Enoch who taught humans to make weapons and adornments. It is Azazello who first contacts Margarita and helps transform her into a witch. And Koroviev-Fagott, the lanky ex-choirmaster, evokes both a musical instrument he resembles in shape and a character from a Dostoevsky novel.

The novel's structure is a masterful experiment in its own right, placing three distinct stories under one cover: the satirical story of Woland in the capital, the timeless love story of the Master and Margarita, and the stark, realistic chapters set in ancient Yershalaim. This "story within a story" technique powerfully echoes Dostoevsky's The Brothers Karamazov. In that novel, the intellectual Ivan Karamazov tells his devout brother Alyosha a "poem" he has composed, "The Grand Inquisitor," in which Jesus returns to Earth and is imprisoned by a cardinal who argues that the Church must rule over humanity for its own good. The author reproduces this dialogue between a prophet and a worldly judge, using the exact same compositional device. It is no wonder Behemoth declares Dostoevsky to be immortal.

By skillfully juggling allusions to Goethe, Dante, and Dostoevsky and integrating biblical narratives into the fabric of his story, the author created more than a novel; he created a literary riddle whose solution is a unique pleasure for every reader.

A Legacy on Screen

Naturally, such a monumental work has tempted many filmmakers, though a legend persists that the novel is "cursed" and resists adaptation. The first domestic film adaptation was shot in 1993 but only released in 2011, long after a more famous 2005 television series had become the canonical version for many. This series was praised for its faithful, almost verbatim reproduction of the text, featuring a powerful cast and a haunting musical score.

More recently, a 2024 film adaptation took a bolder approach. The director, Mikhail Lokshin, reinterpreted the source material, emphasizing the autobiographical elements. In this version, the Master doesn't just write a novel; he writes a play called Pilate that is banned at the last minute, mirroring the author's real-life struggles with theatrical censorship. The story becomes a recursive loop: we watch a Master who is writing The Master and Margarita. This adaptation paints an even bleaker picture than the novel. The city is a dystopian landscape of unrealized architectural projects, and in the end, only ashes of the manuscript remain. It is a powerful film about the clash between a true artist and a society that has no use for his ideals, a society fixated on building a bright but hollow future.

Ultimately, this novel could have been a typical mystical thriller of its era. But when a great writer tackles such a genre, magic happens. Behind the fantastic plot lies a profound confession about the state of a culture in crisis. Against a tyrannical regime, the author could only offer his art—a novel woven from the threads of world literature, from the Bible to Dostoevsky, that stands as an immortal monument to the idea that what is true and what is written from the heart can never truly be destroyed.

References

• Proffer, E. (1984). Bulgakov: Life and Work. Ardis Publishers.
  This definitive biography provides extensive detail on Mikhail Bulgakov's life, drawing direct and well-documented parallels between his personal experiences with state censorship, his marriage to Elena Sergeevna Shilovskaya, and the narrative and thematic elements of The Master and Margarita. It confirms the autobiographical nature of the Master's plight and Margarita's character, as discussed in the article.
• Weeks, L. D. (Ed.). (1996). The Master and Margarita: A Critical Companion. Northwestern University Press.
  This collection of scholarly essays explores the novel's complex literary heritage. Of particular relevance are the analyses of the Faustian and Dostoevskian influences. The essays delve into the specific ways Bulgakov reworks the pact with the devil from Goethe's Faust and structurally echoes the "Grand Inquisitor" section from The Brothers Karamazov (pp. 150-175), supporting the article's claims about the novel's deep intertextuality.