And we’re done!
Thank you Hugh, that was fantastic. Really good of you to answer so many questions so diligently.
And thanks everyone for asking questions. It’s been really enlightening!
AlexJWarren asks:
Why do you think that there is an imperative for literature to portray reality in unreal ways, such as on The Master and Margarita?
Henry Cockburn has a question about translating The Master and Margarita:
How did you go about tying up the loose ends of an unfinished novel? Did that feel like a similar task to translation or is it a different skill entirely?
Guardian contributor That's not something the translator has to do - you just work with what the writer left and perhaps point out problems in an introduction or notes. Other textual work must be left to the researcher.
tiojo asks:
Why is it that Russian artistic manifestations from the Soviet period, whether they are Shostakovich symphonies or Bulgakov novels, are always interpreted through a search for hidden political comment? Are Britten or Evelyn Waugh’s works subject to the same political scrutiny? Would it not be more interesting to see interpretations which put those works into a wider global, social and historic context?
Guardian contributor I agree entirely, such an approach lessens their impact and reduces the value of these great works. But because art has been a mode of political opposition in Russia for two centuries or more, the habit persists.
palfreyman says:
The more I think about the novel the more I am convinced it was composed in three separate parts: First the satire itself; then, as a weighty counterpoint to the satire, the Yershalaim sequence; and only finally, when he was married for the third time, I believe, did Bulgakov try to put a bit of hope into it by fictionalising his relationship with his wife as that of the Master and Margarita’s.
Did you notice such a distinction in the original Russian when you were translating it?
Guardian contributor The satirical, demonic and historical parts were all there from 1929, whereas Margarita appears in redactions only around 1934, after the third marriage in late 1932 - so halfway through the work's genesis and halfway through the book too. So I think you have a good point. Differences between the Moscow and Yershalaim sections are also dependent, of course, upon the fact that they have different narrators - the Master is much less chatty and knowing than the narrator of the Moscow scenes.
miapatrick says:
One thing I learned from studying New Testament Greek (I certainly didn’t learn New Testament Greek!) is how complicated translation can be between very different languages, especially where there is less direct shared history than there is, say, between English and French. There is also the theory that concepts come from language, rather than language from concepts. To what extent do you think it is really possible to translate Russian literature into English, rather than produce an English-language interpretation of the work?
Guardian contributor I think your alternatives are basically the same thing, as I've suggested elsewhere in this discussion. The shared Indo-European linguistic source of English and Russian means they intersect quite readily, and much of the European culture is shared, of course. Realia are always a problem for translators, but footnotes help out. Nuances and connotations are always going to be lost in translation, so one just has to do one's best.
RabBurnout asks:
Do you think that The Master and Margarita pursues themes common in Russian Literature? And is the ‘surrealism’ of TMAM something often found in Russian lit?
I see you translated The Double, a work I’ve found very compelling- how influential is this novella re other European works about repressed or ghost selves, or doppelgängers? About Dostoyevsky’s influence - how much was Nietzsche influenced by him? Was there a mutual influence?
Guardian contributor It certainly does. One not mentioned in these discussions as far as I can see is that of the 'strong woman' contrasted with the weak male to be found in a lot of, say, Turgenev and Chekhov. Moral responsibility, the strong philosophical/spiritual strand in TMAM are things to be found in, say, Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, and the grotesque/bizarre is something that Bulgakov admired in Gogol. I'm not sure about the influence of The Double: it was itself produced after reading of Hoffmann and Gogol, so I don't know where the lines of influence on other writers should be drawn (Dorian Grey, for example, could be linked with Gogol's Portrait). Nietzsche was an admirer of Dostoevsky and Notes From the Underground and Crime and Punishment influenced him, it would seem - I'm not aware of any influence the other way (Nietzsche was quite a bit younger, of course).
everythingsperfect asks:
Who is your favourite author to translate - and why? And has translating an book ever changed your opinion of it, making you admire it more or less?
Guardian contributor Probably the one I'm translating at any given moment: you have to enjoy literary translation to do it, and it is a great pleasure for me to engage that closely with any (good) text. I've been lucky enough to translate some truly great Russian writers, so it would be invidious to single out just one. And translating a book makes you know it better and usually became more fond of it: usually, because translating Dostoevsky's The Double was pretty gruelling - it's a wonderful creation, but it was hard work!
'You could argue that when you read a book in translation, you're only experiencing a version of the original'
palfreyman says:
I have just finished Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky’s Penguin translation of The Master and Margarita and thoroughly enjoyed it without concluding it was a masterpiece. Given, however, that it is the general consensus that the novel IS a masterpiece, do you think the translation I read might have something to do with my less than fervent admiration?
Guardian contributor You could argue that whenever you read a book in translation, you're only experiencing a version of the original, not the actual book (but if it's a good book in the original, then reading that version is obviously better than missing out on the book entirely). I don't really like getting involved in discussion of other translators' works, because we all read and therefore rewrite the original differently; and my reading is obviously going to be the one I personally prefer! I know the Burgin/O'Connor version is highly rated, and I would advise against the Glenny: it served its purpose well in introducing readers to Bulgakov, but it has far too many howlers for comfort, many of which distort the work to a degree that makes some passages incomprehensible (Bezdomny describes his poetry as 'monstrous', not 'wonderful', for example). Another thing to bear in mind is whether the translator into English is British or American - it can make quite a difference!
nightjar12 asks:
Was Bulgakov a religious person himself?
Guardian contributor He came from a family of clergymen and obviously had a broad and deep knowledge of religious traditions. Theses have been written on the religious themes in his works, so I think 'yes' would be a reasonable answer.
SergeyL has some thoughts about the cover of the Alma edition of The Master and Margarita:
I don’t think that outline of the book cover in the style of early Soviet posters is a fitting match for Bulgakov novels. Bulgakov disliked such style which reminds more of Mayakovsky (and they hated each other).
In Russian literature and theater Bulgakov stands for the conservative classic style despite his early experiments (Diaboliade).
Guardian contributor If you're referring to the current Alma edition cover, you may be right, commenting from an obviously informed standpoint, but it is an effective, striking cover, I think, and 'fits in' with a number of their other covers. Covers are a whole area of discussion, I think, and I've seen none more beautiful than the Hesperus editions from the Noughties, which included a couple of my other Bulgakov translations.
Updated
'Even the simplest bit of Russian will inevitably be rendered differently by every translator'
retropian has a general question about Dostoyevsky translations:
I would like to explore more in depth the works of Dostoyevsky particularly, and am wondering if I can get some recommendations for translations. Recommendations for other Russian authors would be appreciated as well.
Guardian contributor Judgements on the relative merits of translators and specific translations are very subjective. The translations themselves are, of course, subjective too - each translator has his or her own understanding of a text, which is why even the simplest little bit of Russian will almost inevitably be rendered differently by everyone who translates it (strange, but true). There are, however, good and bad translations, I think, in that a bad translator can simply misunderstand the source text and thus produce an incorrect version in the target language. The occasional error of this sort is, I would suggest, acceptable (and perhaps even unavoidable), but if the errors are persistent and significant, the resultant translation must surely be considered bad. I expect that is probably not very helpful; especially as many reviewers, whose recommendations might be thought helpful, are actually unable to judge the accuracy of what they read and therefore just praise what they like, which may, according to my definition, be bad! Where Russian translations are concerned, modern translations are often to be preferred, as there has been greater contact between the Anglophone and Russophone worlds in recent decades, so translators are perhaps more likely to be reliable than in the past (and the resources of the Internet are a tremendous boon for contemporary translators). But many still insist on the quality of Constance Garnett's contemporary translations of Chekhov. I think you have to try different versions and see. Other Russian authors? I love the earliest great Russian prose writers - Pushkin, Gogol and Lermontov, and they're a great place to start, as you can then see where Dostoevsky found a good deal of his inspiration.
While reading The Master and Margarita, MythicalMagpie had trouble keeping track of names:
Why does everyone have three names, one of which seems to be randomly used later in the text? Are there rules about using first, middle and second names and are there hidden meanings in the character names that I’m missing because I don’t speak Russian?
Guardian contributor The names are commonly a problem for Anglophone readers of Russian literature. Russians have a first (given) name, a patronymic derived from their father's first name and a surname. The standard formal mode of address is to use the first two, but Russians can be referred to by any one of the three. The patronymic can be shortened (e.g. Nikolayevich becomes Nikolayich) and the first name can be altered in all sorts of ways to indicate familiarity, affection, contempt: thus Ekaterina becomes Katya, Katyusha, Katenka, Katka etc. Many writers do use 'meaningful' names, and a translation with footnotes would probably seek to explain those that would escape a reader with no Russian.
estarion has a few questions:
The Master and Margarita is one of my favourite books. It is hilarious, and presents a vivid picture of Moscow of the time. However, I feel that today it is often read somewhat too narrowly, as a critique of Stalinism and therefore of limited relevance outside of its historic moment. That is certainly an important part of the novel, but there is so much more to it. Bulgakov presents a very particular vision of Christianity, with Jesus presented in a very realistic manner without his divinity being sacrificed, and Woland as a frightening, but ultimately benevolent character. Does this reflect Bulgakov’s own religious and philosophical outlook, or was it mostly there in service of the story?
Since Bulgakov died before producing the definitive version of the text, could you speculate what the likely issues in the novel are that he would have worked on more?
Finally, since you have done a lot of translation from Russian, could you give some reading tips? I am a big fan of classic Russian literature, but I know next to nothing about more recent Russian writers. Could you recommend some?
Guardian contributor I quite agree that TMAM is not just a critique of Stalinism, just as Zamyatin's novel We isn't (nor could have been, since it predated Stalinism). Such works, like, for example, Chekhov's plays, would surely be of less interest to posterity if they did not deal with themes of more universal concern, such as philosophy and religion, as you suggest. I'm not sure that Bulgakov would have added a great deal more, had he been able to work on the novel further, as the last drafts of the work are pretty consistent in their content, but some of the little inconsistencies towards the end of the book might have been picked up and resolved. Some ideas about more modern Russian writers are elsewhere on this page, but Venedikt Yerofeyev's Moscow Stations (Moskva-Petushki) from 1969 occurs to me as another work that might be of interest, if philosophy and religion are your thing. Dovlatov succeeds in being both funny and profound, and Tatyana Tolstaya's short stories are little poetic gems.
'Publishers are usually aiming for a profit - and it's Chekhov, Tolstoy and Dostoevsky who really sell'
evidencememe says:
I am all admiration of someone who can convey such material, but there seems to be a tendency among literary translators to return to the same texts again and again with new versions. Of course, for Dostoevsky, for example, in English, French, and Italian, there have been good reasons for ‘de-Garnetting’ and for a return to something more rugged. Is this due to publishers being unwilling to tread outside the well-trodden paths?
It would just be interesting to have more than a hard-to-find spattering of anthologized translations of works by such writers as Pogorelsky, Odoevsky, Bestuzhev, Sologub, Potapenko, S.T. Semyonov, M.P. Artzybashev, and Korolenko ; as well as the undeniably great Andreyev, Kuprin, and Garshin.
And, did you enjoy the Kara mini-series? (I thought it was quite fun).
Guardian contributor We have to remember that publishers are usually aiming for a profit, and it's Chekhov, Tolstoy, Dostoevsky and Bulgakov who really sell (comparatively). Your list of names suggests a more than passing acquaintance with Russian literature, so you're probably not the average, typical reader, I'm afraid! Some publishers are nonetheless trying to extend the range available beyond the more or less obvious, I think. I certainly would argue for some of the names on your list, and could add a few too.
Guardian contributor Updated
'The search for political references is perhaps inevitable where Russian literature is concerned'
deadgod says:
To what extent is The Master and Margarita’s Master a response to or development of Dostoevsky’s anti-heroes (Ivan K., Stavrogin)?
What contemporary novels would you say have the relation to Putin, the oligarchs, and the FSB that TMAM has to Stalin?
Guardian contributor I personally don't see a great deal of Stavrogin or Ivan Karamazov in the Master, so I'm not really sure what you're thinking of here. As for the modern novel and Putin etc., I'll make the excuse that it's not really my field, and I would agree with the notion expressed elsewhere in these discussions that the search for political references is perhaps inevitable where Russian literature is concerned, but is not necessarily the most interesting of approaches.
IsaacBD wants to know Hugh’s thoughts on Vladimir Nabokov’s translation of A Hero of Our Time by Mikhail Lermontov:
In the foreword, he’s pretty (characteristically) blunt about the quality of Lermontov’s Russian prose, and suggests that his task is to carry this sense of imperfect, perhaps even juvenile writing through the translation process. Is his assessment of Lermontov’s style fair? Do you think he succeeds in capturing its essence, or is the original style over-shadowed (however unintentionally) by Nabokov’s own?
Guardian contributor I think Nabokov is very harsh in his judgements on Lermontov's prose, particularly as he seems to forget that in A Hero of our Time the author is hiding behind two different narrators, the travel writer and Pechorin. Arguably the only section of the novel that should be seen as an example of Lermontov's own unmediated prose is the introduction to the second edition, where the author responds to the criticism that greeted the first edition. It's some time since I looked at the Nabokov translation in any detail, so I'm reluctant to comment on it specifically; perhaps a translator who is also a major writer has to work harder than ever to keep himself out of his translation? That's not to suggest that a translator is absent, for the translation is, of course, his interpretation of the original, but he does need to be guided by the text, rather than imposing himself on it, I would suggest.
'Bulgakov was certainly capable of musical, poetic Russian when it was demanded'
gorky1 asks:
Does Bulgakov have a distinctive style in Russian- is it poetic and ‘musical?’
Guardian contributor Do all writers (all great writers?) have a distinctive style? In any event, whether it can easily be encapsulated in words like poetic and musical I'm not sure, particularly as many writers do vary their style depending on their subject-matter, their influences at a particular time of writing, etc. One of the things I try to do when translating from Russian is to preserve some sense of at least the rhythm of the writing (something for which I have received some praise in my renditions of Bulgakov). But there are always likely to be variations in the prose in a novel which has such disparate parts as TMAM, and Bulgakov's prose is different again in other works: it has been described, for example, as Chekhovian in A Young Doctor's Notebooks, Gogolian in The Diaboliad. He was certainly capable of musical, poetic Russian when it was demanded, but could readily show other qualities too.
sbmfc has a question about Bulgakov’s 1925 book The White Guard:
Can you shed any light on Bulgakov’s plans for the unwritten volumes which were to continue the story of ‘The White Guard’?
Guardian contributor It would appear that work on the putative trilogy of which The White Guard formed the first part became mixed up with Bulgakov's work on his plays, The Days of the Turbins and Flight, so that material that might have originally been intended for use in the novels was deployed in the plays, and some of the content of the plays found its expression in The White Guard. So the best way to understand Bulgakov's work on the period of the Civil War is perhaps to read a combination of the novel and the plays.
AlexandraGuzeva asks:
Why is contemporary Russian literature not much popular in the UK? And whom from the modern Russian writers could you highlight?
Guardian contributor The problem is that readers still go primarily for the well-known riches of earlier times. There are a lot of translated works available though: titles can quite easily be found through Google, so anyone interested could try, for example, www.ryzhakov.com or theculturetrip.com where some of the top names and titles are listed. I particularly like two late 20th-century writers, Dovlatov and Tolstaya.
osyaikisa has a question about this month’s Reading Group book, Mikhail Bulgakov’s The Master and Margarita:
Why does MAM have a reputation of an anti-soviet book while 12 Chairs and Golden Calf which are more critical of the system are considered to be soviet classics?
Guardian contributor The Twelve Chairs was written and first appeared around the time Bulgakov was just starting work on TMAM and thus got in in time - but it still suffered a lot at the hands of the censors, as suggested by a Russian edition published in the 1990s and based on archival sources which is almost a third longer than the widely-known text. Satire, like everything else, was much more closely controlled in the 1930s than in the previous decade, so the satirical content of the novel would have obviously proved problematic had any attempt been made to publish. In other respects too, the demands of Socialist Realism were simply not met by the novel - no positive hero, a great deal of non-realistic material, diffcult subject matter; and the religious content could readily have been considered 'anti-Soviet', as such themes were broadly discouraged. The use and abuse of power is also a theme which would not have met with favour from the authorities. Thus for a number of reasons TMAM was unpublishable until it first appeared - with cuts - in the 1960s.
And we’re live!
Hello everyone!
Thank you for these fantastic questions. (And thank you especially for checking in when there’s so much other stuff to worry about.)
I believe that Hugh is ready to get going! It’s going to be a great pleasure to spend some time thinking about books and art.
Let’s go!
Post your questions about Bulgakov and Russian literature for Hugh Aplin
At 1pm on Wednesday 29 June, Hugh Aplin will join us for a live online Q&A about Bulgakov’s The Master and Margarita and his work as a translator.
All sorts of questions have emerged in this month’s Reading group discussions: about the cultural setting of The Master and Margarita; the extent to which contemporary readers can understand the Stalinist context of Bulgakov’s novel; and how to decipher all of the allusions and mysteries in the book. It will be great to hear his expert opinions.
Aplin is head of Russian at Westminster School and has translated a number of Russian classics alongside The Master and Margarita, including Chekhov’s Three Years, Dostoevsky’s Double, Lermontov’s A Hero of Our Time, as well as Bulgakov’s A Young Doctor’s Notebook and The Diaboliad and Other Stories.
In other words, he’s just the person to chat with about the art of Russian translation, what it takes to render Bulgakov’s mordant humour in English and the many intricacies of this complex allegorical novel. Join us at 1pm on Wednesday and have your questions answered.
I’m also happy to say that we’ve got five copies of the handsome Alma Classics edition of The Master And Margarita translated by Hugh to give away to the first five UK readers to post a “please may I have” along with a nice question for Hugh below.
If you’re lucky enough to be one of the first to comment, email Laura Kemp with your address (laura.kemp@theguardian.com) – we can’t track you down ourselves. Be nice to her, too.
Updated
I guess because there are different ways for artists to see reality, some of them not realistic - take a look at a gallery of modern art. Artists need to have a fresh vision of the world, they can't just go on repeating what has been done brilliantly by others for centuries.