There is a telltale sign that what you’re reading is a Russian novel–aside from the triple-named characters. For me, it’s a sense of drama within the story that excites the characters yet is presented to the reader in a more matter-of-fact manner. For example, our poet Ivan Bozdemny is visited in his hospital room by another inmate who listens to his wild tale with no surprise and an explanation:
"But who was he (the professor) anyway?" asked Ivan, shaking his fists in agitation.
The guest stared at Ivan and answered with a question "You’re not going to get all upset now, are you? All of us here are unstable..There won’t be any calls for the doctor, or injections, or other stuff like that, will there?"
"No, no!" exclaimed Ivan, "just tell me who he is."
"All right then," replied the guest, weighing his words and speaking distinctly, "Yesteday at Patriarch’s Ponds you had a meeting with Satan."
As he had promised, Ivan did not go beserk, but he was nevertheless totally flabbergasted. (p. 112)
Bulgakov (and many Russian writers) may in fact be guilty of "telling" here, and yet it is a distinctive technique that places control of the situation firmly in the hands of the author. The style is almost a bouncing along with the story flow, nothing holding it back as it bursts forth in a pace specifically set by the writer. It’s a this is what happened form of tale, and while it tells, it also leaves plenty up to the reader who must depend upon keeping track of hints along the way as to where the plot is taking him. And in presenting the story as a series of facts, the author does not pronounce judgement, clearly leaving the reader to take it and make of it what he will. Not a bad way of doing it.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology