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"thank you," he finally said. he couldn't say he meant thanks for all of it: the keys, the trust, the honesty, and the kisses. hopefully andrew would figure it out eventually. "you were amazing."
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True Democratic Spirit is up there with religious faith and emotional maturity and all those other top-of-the-Maslow-Pyramid-type qualities that people spend their whole lives working on. A Democratic Spirit’s constituent rigor and humility and self-honesty are, in fact, so hard to maintain on certain issues that it’s almost irresistibly tempting to fall in with some established dogmatic camp and to follow that camp’s line on the issue and to let your position harden within the camp and become inflexible and to believe that the other camps are either evil or insane and to spend all your time and energy trying to shout over them.
Psychology looks like religion, and the psychologist character looks too much like God, someone you’re supposed to open up to, someone you’re supposed to approach with honesty, someone you’re supposed to use to break yourself to pieces, self-destruct in front of, so much so that the little splinters left behind can’t even be called art.
“These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to us: though the wisdom of nature can reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds itself scourged by the sequent effects: love cools, friendship falls off, brothers divide: in cities, mutinies; in countries, discord; in palaces, treason; and the bond cracked 'twixt son and father. This villain of mine comes under the prediction; there's son against father: the king falls from bias of nature; there's father against child. We have seen the best of our time: machinations, hollowness, treachery, and all ruinous disorders, follow us disquietly to our graves. Find out this villain, Edmund; it shall lose thee nothing; do it carefully. And the noble and true-hearted Kent banished! his offence, honesty! 'Tis strange.”
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520 syf.
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5 günde okudu
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10/10 puan
Very little can prepare you for the wild ride that is Mikhail Bulgakov's "The Master and Margarita," especially if you've read other literature or folklore that have the devil as a character. What will be helpful, I suspect, is knowing a bit about the time and setting of the novel. Bulgakov wrote this book between 1930 and 1940 while living in Moscow under Stalin. The book is set in 1920, when everything was being taken under government control, from the distribution of food and beverages to city living quarters. Foreign nationals, literature, currency, and influence were tightly controlled, if not banned, and the secret police had eyes everywhere, locking up citizens on the barest of evidence and shipping them off to labor camps in Siberia. If this weren't bad enough, opportunists played the system for their own selfish benefit, such as reporting one's neighbor to the secret police in order to move into the neighbor's apartment. Religion went from being state-sanctioned to all but banned, and churches were vandalized and looted. All published literature was so scrutinized that only the most coded dissent could get through the censors. Bulgakov went from being an acclaimed playwright to an artist dependent on the unpredictable whims of the regime, having plays produced at theatres, but then shut down shortly after opening. "The Master and Margarita," is in part a frustrated artist's reaction to all of this, as the devil appears in Moscow and wreaks merry havoc on those people whose mediocrity allowed them to thrive under Stalin, but it is also a great deal more. There are two other narratives entwined with the devil's mischief: a retelling of the Christian crucifixion with Pontius Pilate as the main character, whose story is told by several different narrators, and the story of a writer known simply as The Master and his married lover Margarita. Bulgakov has a great deal of structural fun with these three stories, leaping from one to the other with ease and weaving threads from each story into the others. But ultimately, this book is much more than the stories that comprise it. It's at turns winsome and grotesque, horrifying and hilarious, but at its core a book about hope and intellectual honesty. Though Bulgakov's masterpiece wasn't published until after his death (and Stalin's), the devil's reassurance that no truth can ever be truly lost feels simultaneously prophetic and poignant. I highly recommend this book for anybody seeking freedom from genre and cliche.
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