Let me just preface this review by saying that Bulgakov was a schizo junkie with a persecution complex and it shows in his work. The fact that he was published and his plays were performed despite being deliberately inflammatory and mourning the lost cause of the Russian White Army, shows just how privileged he really was.

Even though western critics would have you believe that this is some monumental satirical masterpiece and a brutal takedown of the Soviet Communist Party, institutions, their management, and leadership, the satire in this book is pretty surface-level: You have to be vetted and approved by The Man to work in public institutions, or to write for the paper. Everyday people are selfish, women are shallow, materialistic and vain, party apparatchiks are stupid and arrogant, etc. It really is nothing you haven't heard before, and nothing that can't be applied to most societies under any political system. It feels even lamer when it's coming from the pen of a son of a priest who's mourning the demise of Tsarist Russia. And no, Mikhail, one is not stupid simply for not believing some random guy who claims he's the devil.

Another pretty interesting thing about this book is that the only character that gets definitely killed is an intellectual and a principled communist, while even the stupidest of yesmen and most cynical of careerists are saved in the end. Pretty anti-intellectual of mr. Bulgakov

On the other hand, the things this book does well, it does them really well. The writing style is really straight-forward, which works beautifully with Bulgakov's absurd and on the nose humor. Woland and his entourage are some of the funniest characters, with one of the funniest dynamics I have ever seen. Bulgakov's spin on the Pontius Pilate/Christ story is a masterclass of, how should I call it, "alternative mythology"?

I recommend this book to everyone. Bulgakov was an exceptionally talented writer and it would be a shame not to experience it.