By Mikhail Bulgakov
After a protracted interval of suppression, Milhail Bulgakov was once found within the West in 1967 with the ebook of his masterpiece, The grasp and Margarita.
After a protracted interval of suppression, Milhail Bulgakov was once stumbled on within the West in 1967 with the e-book of his masterpiece, The grasp and Margarita.
Diaboliad and different tales is the one entire translation of his first choice of brief tales, plus six of his most sensible feuilletons from the Nineteen Twenties. The ambitions of Bulgakov's very good, darkish satires right here contain the Gogolian paperwork that mushroomed after the Revolution, the subjugation of technology to the kingdom, and the fee to be paid while the hot international of Communism clashed with the previous order. all over the reader will locate Bulgakov's accepted exuberance, brilliance, and originality, in addition to the precise voice that used to be to accomplish complete impact within the grasp and Margarita.
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Extra info for Diaboliad
Korotkov. Actually, you look a bit like that scoundrel yourself. » �Oh, no. Not me,» said Korotkov, open-mouthed and swaying. «I'm not a scoundrel. I've had my documents stolen. » Longjohn shouted. «Nonsense. » He dug his fingers into the panting Korotkov's hand, pulled him along the corridor to his precious office, threw him into a plump leather chair and sat down at his desk. Still feeling a strange quaking of the floor under his feet, Korotkov huddled up, closed his eyes and muttered: «The twentieth was Monday, so Tuesday is the twenty-first.
He suddenly remembered clearly being pressed hard on the platform by two young people, one thin with a black moustache that looked false. �Now I'm in real trouble alright,» muttered Korotkov. » He ran into the road, hurried to the end of it, turned down a side-street and found himself by the entrance to a smallish building of unprepossessing architecture. » �I'm Korotkov, Comrade, V. P. Korotkov, who has just had his papers stolen. The whole lot. I could get hauled in…» �You could and all,» the man on the porch confirmed.
You can't. Go away, Mr. Korotkov, or you'll get me into trouble…» �But I must, Panteleimon,» Korotkov asked weakly. » �Oh, my goodness…» muttered Panteleimon, glancing at the door in fright. «You can't, I say. » Inside the office the telephone rang loudly and a copper-heavy voice barked: �I'm leaving now! » Panteleimon and Korotkov moved aside. The door flew open and out into the corridor rushed Longjohn in an army cap with a briefcase under his arm. Panteleimon trotted along behind him, and after a moment's hesitation Korotkov raced off behind Panteleimon.