Bulgakov was convinced of his literary worth. Posterity agrees. But it must have taken great self assurance to hold on to this self belief in the midst of his cancellation and persecution by the Soviet authorities. His upper middle class background, moderate conservative opinions, dislike of the regime (“Bolsheviks are crooks”), and even the cut of his well made suits marked him out as a “class enemy.” Why didn’t he get a bullet in the back of the head, like so many other artists and writers? This is indeed a mystery, not least because huge numbers of Stalin’s victims were far to the left of Bulgakov. Bulgakov was oppressed, but Stalin – for reasons we cannot know – decided, on some whim, not to have him killed.
For those who like me love his works (especially White Guard, which is more to my taste than The Master and Margarita) this is a good insight into the sad and complicated life of an unjustly victimised literary giant. The writings are a selection only, and from the last twenty years of Bulgakov’s life. Some are repetitious or even a bit boring and commonplace, and Bulgakov doesn’t always emerge with great credit. He had a lot to complain about, and he does complain. The women in his life (he had three wives) are only a shadowy presence in his writings: one feels he ought to have made more of them. A family photo taken in Bucha made me realise with a shock this is the same town in the Ukraine which was the scene of a massacre of more than 400 civilians by Putin’s soldiers in 2022. I am reminded that the tragedy and sorrow of Bulgakov’s life was only one amongst a vast ocean of human suffering, all too prevalent in that part of the world, then and now.
To some extent, Bulgakov is diminished as a human being in these pages – I liked him less at the end than at the beginning. His whining and complaining might be justified, but he does go on. And yet as a great writer his position is assured. His own self assurance never wavered despite privation, cruelty, oppression and sickness. And his books are read and admired long after the vile regime that persecuted him has crumbled away.