I can tell now, even this early in the book, that this is one to be read a few times. Bulgakov has admirably written a story that is intrigueing and encompassing of character, action, mystery, conflict and structure, enough to surely please any reader. Yet there is much more beneath hidden in metaphor (I think!) and that would be influenced by a stronger knowledge of historical Russia.
A member of MESSOLIT, the poet Ryukhin, has brought the distraught Bezdomney to an insane asylum after he showed up at the restaurant wearing only longjohns and attempting to tell the others what he’s been through. The meeting of the strange Professor, the death by decapitation of Berlioz, the chasing through the streets of Moscow after the Professor, the little man and the cat, all to be seen by others as either a drunk or a man who has lost his mental stability. Ryukhin has come back to the restaurant, leaving Bezdomney tranquilized and sleeping at the hospital, but he has been forced to face his own character, his questionable abilities as a poet.
The poet had wasted his night while others were feasting and now he realized it could never be brought back. He had only to raise his head from the table lamp up to the sky to realize that the night was gone forever. The waiters were hurriedly pulling the tablecloths off the tables. The cats nosing about the veranda had a morning look about them. Day was bearing down on the poet with full force. (p. 61)
Haven’t we all had that moment, that very instant that life changed for all time. Sound dims or rises as we become aware of it. A whiff of freshly cut grass smells of memories. The scene shifts and stays just for a moment familiar then nearly alien, a challenge perhaps. Bulgakov puts it nicely: The cats…had a morning look about them.
Change is coming, whether anticipated or feared. This was clearly a time of unrest in Moscow, a time that called for caution even as passion excited the urge to move boldly.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology