Posts tagged with "Bulgakov"

YouTube Preview Image

Have you had a chance to watch some of the episodes on YouTube? Some, like the one above, from the scene in the Alexandrovsky Garden, even have English subtitles.

For those of the blog readers who’ve taken up our challenge to read «Мастер и Маргарита» [Master and Margarita] «по-русски» [in Russian], congratulations! We are now officially done with «часть первая» [part one] of the novel and are moving on into a very exciting «часть вторая» [part two].

It is only here, in Chapter 19 that we get to meet Master’s mysterious lover and his eternal love. We finally get to find out what flowers she carried on that fateful day when she met Master:

«Что нужно было этой… ведьме, украсившей себя тогда весною мимозами?» [What did she want, this witch… who adorned herself with mimosa in springtime?]

And we do get to learn her name – «Маргарита Николаевна» [Margarita Nikolayevna]. Now, throughout the book we’ve met a lot of different characters and all were addressed differently. Some were addressed by their full names, others – by last names only, still others – by first names or their diminutives only, etc. This naming diversity raises a very «практичный вопрос» [practical question]: Just how should you address someone in Russian?

The most formal way to «представиться людям» [to introduce oneself to people] is by using the full «ФИО», an acronym that is used on a lot of documents and that stands for «Фамилия, имя, отчество» [Last name, first name, the patronymic].

«Меня зовут Бонд, Джеймс Андреевич Бонд» [My name is Bond, James Bond] – that’s how James Bond, who by the way speaks fluent Russian, would’ve introduced himself in Moscow. And in case you’re wondering, Bond’s father’s name was Andrew.

«Иван Петрович Белкин родился в 1798 году в деревне Горюхино» [Ivan Petrovich Belkin was born in 1798 in the village of Goryukhino] – that’s how A.S. Pushkin introduces one of his most famous characters in the Tales of the Late I.P. Belkin.

Uless you are calling a roll or talking about someone, you will not use this form of address. For example, Azazello answers Margarita’s unspoken question with  «Берлиоза, Михаила Александровича, – послышался рядом несколько носовой мужской голос…» [“Mikhail Alexandrovich Berlioz”, said a somewhat nasal masculine voice beside her].

To address someone whom you’ve just met or don’t know very well as well as someone who’s older than you, your boss, your teacher, or your co-worker, you will most likely use their first name and the patronymic. Hence Azazello addresses Margarita as «Маргарита Николаевна» [Margarita Nikolayevna] at their first meeting. Anything else would be disrespectful.

But even when you are «на короткой ноге» [on friendly, informal terms] with someone, you might still address them by their first name and the patronymic. However, your pronunciation of the patronymic will likely be different, more relaxed.

Instead of pronouncing every letter in «Иван Сергеевич» [Ivan Sergeyevich], you might say it «Иван Сергеич» [Ivan Sergeich]. «Мария Ивановна» [Maria Ivanovna] might become «Мария Иванна» [Maria Ivanna] or even «Марьванна» [Mar’vanna].

There’s also an option of addressing someone by patronymic alone, but that’s really informal. For example, if James Bond were to have a few martinis with Russian friends, they might had called him «Андреевич» [Andreevich] or even pronounce it «Андреич» [Andreich] before the night was over.

However, in some cases addressing an older person by the patronymic, especially with a possessive pronoun «мой» [mine], «ваш» [yours] or «наш» [ours] only helps show respect for this person:

««Мой Петрович – на все руки мастер», - хвасталась тётя Люда» [“My Petrovich is such a handyman”, bragged aunt Lyuda]

Russians do address each other by first name only, of course, but rarely by its long form. Addressing someone as «Людмила» [Lyudmila], «Александр» [Alexandr], «Елена» [Yelena] or «Михаил» [Mikhail] or whatever other first name in its long form adds some somberness, like you’re about to either «отчитать» [to reprimand] or «провести серьёзную беседу» [have a serious conversation].

Throughout Chapter 19 Bulgakov uses this long form, «Маргарита» thus enhancing the mood and not ever allowing the reader get too «фамильярный» [unceremonious, overly familiar] with Margarita.

Instead, it is common to address someone by a short form of one’s first name – «Люда» [Lyuda], «Саша» [Sasha], «Лена» [Lena], «Миша» [Misha], etc. This doesn’t necessarily mean that you are «на ты» [using an informal “you”] with your «собеседник» [companion]. You can continue addressing the person with a formal “you” yet use a short form of their first name. It does however show that you know this person fairly well yet maintain a proper distance.

For example, while I am «на ты» [use an informal “you”] with my Russian girlfriends, I do address their husbands by the short forms of their first names, but using a formal «вы».

But what about addressing someone by last name only? Addressing someone by the last name without adding their title or the equivalents of “Mr.”, “Ms” or “Mrs” shows a certain level of familiarity with the person. You most likely know them personally or at least through a shared connection. You might be either «на ты» or «на вы» with them. Consider these examples:

«А что же Желдыбин предпринял?» [So what did Zheldybin do?] – the speaker knows Zheldybin because they work in the same organization.

«А вы, как я вижу ненавидите этого Латунского.» [And you, I can see, hate this Latunsky] – Margarita knows Latunsky (negatively) through a shared connection, Master.

Addressing someone by using «гражданин» [citizen (male)] or «гражданка» [citizen (female)] before their last name sounds very formal and is typically used in official documents, such as court documents.

Infamous and genderless «товарищ» fell out of use quite a few years ago. And «господин» [Mister] or «госпожа» [Mrs], while getting more use now aren’t universal and again, reserved mostly for very formal occasions.

Bottom Line - when in doubt, use a combination of first name and the patronymic and a formal “you” to address Russians.

How much do I love bookstores? So much that I am ready to fly to Moscow for just one day to browse through books at “Библио-Глобус” (one of the largest bookstores in Moscow). While I’m saving up for the transatlantic flight, I shop online and, when possible, on Brighton Beach (Brooklyn, NY). That’s where I saw these two translations of Bulgakov’s works. I took this picture months ago and forgot about it (it’s not the best quality shot). Eerily, the cover image of the book on the left relates very well to the content of this post.

How did you like Chapter 18 of the Master and Margarita? Isn’t it one of the most entertaining chapters so far? The «незадачливые визитёры» [unlucky visitors] are minor characters that are conjured only for short terrifying (to them) and hilarious (to us) encounters with Woland.

And yet, there is so much linguistic richness in their fleeting appearances. For example, Andrei Fokich, the hapless «буфетчик» [bartender], is described by Woland’s maid as «маленький человек» [a little man]. Of course, Andrei Fokich is «малюсенький» [diminutive] in statue, but there’s another meaning behind the maid’s description. «Маленький человек» has a meaning of “insignificant, unimportant person” or “simple folk”, “regular people”:

«Мы люди маленькие. Что начальство прикажет, то и выполняем.» [We are the little guys. What the bosses say we do, we do.]

As you know, not only Andrei Fokich was of short statue and unremarkable personality, but his query to Woland was petty and insignificant in nature. And while we don’t know whether another of the chapter’s “visitors”, Maximilian Poplavsky, was short or tall, his reason for seeing Woland was no less petty than Fokich’s.

A synonym of «маленькие люди» is «мелкая сошка» [a small-timer]. It’s a «пренебрежительный» [contemptuous] way to describe someone who has no influence or significance in the society:

«Да что его слушать! Он же мелкая сошка в этой фирме.» [Why listen to him! He’s just a rank-and-file worker at this firm.]

Here’s what’s really interesting to me. Typically, «маленький человек» [little person], when he appears in Russian literary works from Pushkin to Chekhov, is someone who is essentially a kind and harmless person who means and does no evil.

Yet here, in Master and Margarita, I don’t get the same impression at all. Why? By now we know that Woland and his «свита» [retinue] do not arbitrarily administer their peculiar punishments to both guilty and guiltless. There’s a method to the madness – the guilty ones are exposed and punished.

The way the two «визитёры» [visitors] are treated by Woland leaves little doubt to whether they are guilty or not, don’t you think? We don’t know the exact nature of their wrong-doings. Hey, we don’t even know if Andrei Fokich’s savings were «нажиты нечестным путём» [earned through dishonest means]). But something is fishy.

And speaking of fishy… Did you catch the phrase «осетрина второй свежести» [sturgeon of second-grade freshness]? Coined by Bulgakov, this is now «крылатое выражение» [a catchphrase].

First, a bit of history… It might sound unbelievable, but slightly damaged or past their prime goods, including food, used to be sold, discounted and marked “second-grade”, to general public (yep, to «маленькие люди»). Since in the Soviet Union the government was the owner of all the «товары» [goods] as well as the quality controller, the regulator, and the enforcer, it made a lot of sense to sell instead of to send to a landfill. Combine that with widespread and persistent «дефицит» [lack of] many consumer goods and food items, and you can see that the public wasn’t terribly opposed to the idea of buying something «не первой свежести» [not exactly fresh].

Nowadays the phrase «не первой свежести» and «второй свежести» refers to many things other than food – news, political movements, concerts, theater productions, personal appearances, etc. In general, anything that is outdated, worn-out, used one too many times, irrelevant is said to be «второй свежести» [of second-grade freshness].

But back to our little people… I think one way to interpret Poplavsky’s and Fomich’s punishments is through yet another translation of «маленький человек»«винтик в машине» [a cog], in a sense of an average person performing routine functions day in and day out.

Many of the crimes, big and little, that are committed by regimes, are committed because of acquiescence of the simple folks, of cogs. Bulgakov’s own tragedy – being cast out, criticized, silenced and ignored – was a testament to the not-so-innocent «маленькие люди» [regular folks].

I first saw a photo of this ship in an NPR article: “On a recent day in Moscow, a newly revamped four-tier cruise ship named the Mikhail Bulgakov departs amid rousing music and much fanfare to ply the Moskva and Volga rivers. Named after a brilliant Soviet writer whose work was banned, the ship pulls out next to another passenger ship, the Felix Dzerzhinsky. He founded the KGB, and was the man who, on orders from Josef Stalin, silenced Bulgakov.”

Did you enjoy reading Chapter 17 of Bulgakov’s “Master and Margarita”? «Лично» [personally], I love all of it, from the sniffing dog «Тузбубен» whose «кличка» [name] literally means Ace of Diamonds to the empty suit, «ведущий дела» [conducting business] to the hapless and unwilling «хор» [choir].

But what I love even more is the great examples of everyday conversational Russian. Consider the case of the word «нету» [no] that appears throughout the chapter. Is it just a careless way of saying «нет» [no]?

It seems to be used interchangeably with the word «нет»:

«Никакого мага там не оказалось. Самого Лиходеева тоже нет. Домработницы Груни нету, и куда она девалась, никто не знает.» [No magician was to be found. Nor was Likhodeyev. Grunya the maid wasn’t there either, and no one knew where she had gone.]

«Но прошло десять минут, а его нету.» [But then ten minutes passed, but he wasn’t back yet.]

Then again a lot of times «нету» comes up in «прямая речь» [direct or quoted speech], as in

«Сдачи, что ли, нету?» – робко спросил бухгалтер.

[“Are you short on change?” the bookkeeper asked timidly.]

«Нету, нету, нету, милые мои! – кричала она, обращаясь неизвестно к кому. – Пиджак и штаны тут, а в пиджаке ничего нету!»

[“He’s not there, not there, not there, my dears!” she was screaming, to no one knows whom. “His jacket and trousers are there, but there’s nothing in the jacket!”]

Ok, no more suspense – yes, such word exists as confirmed by a number of most-respected dictionaries of Russian language. It is generally used as «сказуемое» [a predicate] – a word or phrase in a sentence that answers the question of what the object of the sentence is doing, did in the past or will do in the future.

It’s true that in many cases the words «нет» and «нету» can be used interchangeably, although the latter is viewed as «просторечие»  [vernacular], «разговорная речь» [everyday speech].

So if you’re talking about an absence of something or someone, go ahead and use «нету» instead of «нет» if you wish:

«Нет, денег у меня нету.» [No, I don’t have money.] – handy when talking to whomever it is you don’t feel like «дать взаймы до получки» [to lend money ‘til payday]

«Нет у нас подушки, нету одеяла» [We have neither a pillow, nor a blanket]. That’s actually a line from «Кошкин дом» [Cat’s House], a beloved old cartoon.

«У меня нету слов!» [The words fail me!]. It’s well-known that a person who indignantly proclaims this is impossible to shut up.

«Результатов лотереи ещё нету» [There are no lottery results yet]

However, if «нет» is used as a negative determiner, then it can’t be replaced with «нету» without losing the original meaning. Example would be the phrase «Он приехал или нет?» [Has he arrived or not?] or a popular (in the US) anti-drug slogan «Просто скажинет» [Just say “no”]. Using «нету» in the former sounds funny while in the latter it changes the meaning of the phrase to “Just say “there are none”.

Finally, a quick note on the word «нетушки» [no] – it is a diminutive of «нет», not of «нету». It is a vernacular particle that’s used mostly by children (and by adults who act childishly) to express their «несогласие» [disagreement] and «протест» [objection] tinged with «обида» [bitterness].

«Нетушки, я не буду делиться с Васей игрушками!» [No way I will share toys with Vasya!]

People in this 1930s photo line up in a bread line in front of a beat up store with a name that stands for “trade with foreigners”. Unlike the crystal and gold island of chic consumerism visited by Begemot the Cat in the “Master and Margarita”, most “trade with foreigners” stores were decidedly unglamorous and sold very basic food stuff and sundries.

Remember Nikanor Ivanovich Bosoi (literal translation of his last name is “Shoeless”) who briefly appears in Chapter 9? In the beginning of that chapter he strikes a not-very-clear-cut deal with «коварный» [treacherous] Koroviev and at the end is led away by two nameless, but sinister «товарищи» [comrades]. And that was, seemingly, the end of Nikanor, another minor character in the story.

Except, of course, that he reappears and does something so unusual that he can be «причислен» [added to] to an A-list of literary characters, including Tatyana Larina (from “Eugine Onegin”), Oblomov (from “Oblomov”), Rodion Raskol’nikov (from “Crime and Punishment”), Pierre Bezuhov (from “War and Peace”), and Vera Pavlovna (from “What’s to Be Done?”). In short, he has an important dream.

On first reading, the dream seems bizarre, slightly amusing and highly nonsensical.

The exact «подтекст» [subtext] of Nikanor’s dream experience is open to interpretations (as pretty much anything else in the “Master and Margarita”). This is my interpretation that I’m calling «От борща до баланды» [From borsch to gruel].

As Russians know just too well, «от сумы да от тюрьмы не зарекайся» [there’s no fence against ill fortune; lit.: can’t ward off from poverty and jail]. And in prison, at least in Russia, one doesn’t get borsch, but only «баланда» [gruel]. So here we go…

As you recall, when two «товарищи» [comrades] entered Nikanor’s apartment back in Chapter 9, he was just about to enjoy «горячий борщ» [hot borsch] – delicious, flavorful and unmistakably Russian. After all, borsch has become, for better or for worse, a culinary symbol of Russia.

Another national symbol is a humble birch tree. As a well-known although geopolitically incorrect saying of «квасные патриоты» [patrioteers] goes «где берёзы – там Россия» [Russia is where birch trees are].

Back in the USSR, a chain of exclusive stores called «Берёзка» [lit: birch tree sapling] catered to foreigners and well-connected Russians, accepting only hard currency.

«Берёзка» stores started operating in 1964, but the concept of closed stores for foreigners that sell goods in exchange for something of real value was not new. In fact, the first such attempt was made in 1931 with the creation of «Торгсин» stores. The acronym stands for «торговля с иностранцами» [trade with foreigners]. However, the stores were open to Russians as well, as long as they could pay in gold. As a matter of fact, the entire reason for «Торгсин»’s existence was to raise funds «в то время, когда страна нуждается в них» [at the time when the country needs them] (and that, actually, is a quote from Chapter 15).

Of course, «Торгсин» stores were under surveillance by the secret and sinister Soviet police, the NKVD. Customers were sometimes followed to their homes, searched and even arrested. Those arrested were held in so-called «золотые камеры» [golden cells] that differed from the regular prison cells in that the prisoners were not given either food or water.

By 1937 «Торгсин» was shut down, but NKVD was busier than ever arresting people left and right in the wave of mass terror. One of the victims of NKVD’s 1937 arrests was «Артур Сташевский» [Arthur Stashevsky]. His accomplishments included creating Soviet Union’s fur industry, organizing Soviet spy operations in Germany and successfully leading «Торгсин»’s operations in the early years. It was this last one that earned Arthur Stashevsky a nickname «борец валютного фронта» [soldier of the hard-currency front].  Much like Nikanor, Arthur was arrested at the height of his career. However, Arthur’s fate was much more tragic than Nikanor Bosoi’s, who got off with a scare and a stay at a psychiatric ward. Arthur was tried, found guilty of treason and executed in August 1937.

Remember, in Chapter 15, Nikanor dreams that «на сцену вышел артист в смокинге, гладко выбритый и причесанный на пробор, молодой и с очень приятными чертами лица» [An actor wearing a dinner jacket came on stage. He was young, clean-shaven, very good-looking, and wore his hair parted]? Could it be Arthur Stashevsky (on the above photo)? Weirdly, Arthur Stashevsky is mostly forgotten, a minor player in the footnotes of the early Soviet history. And yet, if it is him who the “actor” in Chapter 15 is based on, then Arthur Stashevsky is known to millions of Master and Margarita readers worldwide.

The only animal that appears, indirectly, in Chapter 14 is a rooster. So why is this painting of a hunt relevant? Read on…

It looks like we haven’t talked about Master and Margarita for a while. «Приступим к четырнадцатой главе» [Let’s get to Chapter 14] .

It is intense and sinister, don’t you think? Yet there are also quite a few «юмористические моменты» [comical episodes] that can make even the most serious reader smile. Here also we encounter not one, but two wonderful examples of onomatopoeia«гоготать» and «улюлюкать» as in «явственно слышный гогот и улюлюканье» [clearly heard cackles of laughter and hoots].

This also is where translation falls far short of the original since neither “laughter” nor “hoots” adequately describe the goings-on. And now it’s up to us, the students of Russian, to recreate the street scene from the opening of the Chapter 14 in all its linguistic glory.

Have you ever tried feeding a flock of Canada geese with some bread? It seems that the more bread you give them, the more and louder they will cackle. Now, in your mind’s eye, replace these «гуси» [geese] with «весёлые молодые люди» [cheery young men] and «куски хлеба» [pieces of bread] with «полуголые дамочки» [half-naked women, lit. “little dames”] and you get a good idea of what «гогот» sounded like to the financial director «Римский» [Rimsky].

«Гоготать – это грубо и невежливо. Культурные люди не гогочут» [To cackle is rude and impolite. Cultured people do not cackle.] Neither do they «ржать» [hoot and howl, lit. neigh]. But how do polite and cultured Russians express their mirth? They can «улыбаться» [to smile], «усмехаться» [to smile with a short and quite laugh], «смеяться» [to laugh], or «хохотать» [roar with laughter].

Depending on the type of joke and the situation, they might try to «усмехаться в усы или в рукав» [to smile into one’s beard or into one’s sleeve], «прятать улыбку» [hide a smile], «проглотить смешок» [to suppress a chuckle], «сдавленно засмеяться» [to chuckle], «громко смеяться» [laugh out loud] or «хохотать во всё горло», «хохотать до упаду», or «хохотать до коликов», all meaning to laugh uproariously, literally – “loudly”, “until one falls down”, or “until one gets a side-stitch”.

«Улюлюкать» is even more interesting, especially in the larger context of the book and Bulgakov’s life. Originally «улюлю» was a command hunters gave to their dogs when directing them to chaise, surround and attack their prey, a process known as «травля». The verb «улюлюкать» is linked with another, originally related to hunting, verb «науськивать» [to sic].

However, both words are used widely outside of hunting. Thus «науськивать» now means “to encourage someone to attack someone else” and «улюлюкать» acquired a second meaning of “to mock and bully someone publicly”. «Травля» also shifted its meaning from “hunt” or “chaise” to “singling out, targeting” and “harassment”.

«Пакостный» is another unpleasant word from this chapter that is used to describe the same street scene: «на улице совершилось ещё что-то скандальное и пакостное» [something else scandalous and nasty has happened outside]. The noun «пакость» means dirt, nastiness, filthiness. Definitely not a nice word! Yet you won’t hear it all that often nowadays. Unfortunately, it’s not for the lack of nastiness itself, but rather because it was replaced by other synonyms – «гадость», «дрянь», «мерзость». Another synonym, also used in this dark chapter is «паскудство» [nastiness].  

«Вот такая мрачная картина вырисовывается. Что за петрушка?» [Such a gloomy picture is being revealed. What’s up with that?]

By the way, speaking of «петрушка» [parsley], recall that the same financial director Rimsky asks just a few pages later this question – «что означает вся эта петрушка» [what’s the meaning of all this mess].

The idiom «что это за петрушка» means “what does it mean” and is generally used to express one’s «недоумение» [bewilderment] combined with «недовольство» [discontent] regarding a given situation. However, it is not an expression that a well-educated and cultured person, such as Rimsky, would use since it’s just too «обиходное» [colloquial]. Note that just a bit earlier Rimsky phrased the same question differently: «что всё это значит?!» [what’s the meaning of all this?!]. Maybe Rimsky chose this less formal phrase to set a warmer tone with his strangely-acting administrator, Varenuha?

It never occurred to me before, but isn’t it interesting how Bulgakov reserves such dark, menacing, heavy language for a chapter that deals with secondary characters doing something that has no bearing on plot development. Is Bulgakov «задаёт тон» [setting the stage] for a darker narrative that follows?

What other “dark” words and phrases have you spotted in this chapter?

Back to the Top