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174 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1925
This collection of Mikhail Bulgakov’s early short stories, written between 1922 and 1923, highlights the pathos and comic surrealism of life in post-revolutionary Moscow.
The title story, “The Diaboliad”, concerns the hapless Korotkov, the chief clerk at the Main Central Depot of Match Materials (or MatchMat) who is paid in the “produce of production” — in other words, matches. The innocent reader may assume that this is an example of Russian absurdism, but according to Lesley Milne’s excellent book Mikhail Bulgakov: A Critical Biography, Bulgakov was paid in matches during the last days of his employment at LITO, the Literary Department of the Central Political Enlightenment Committee in Moscow. This knowledge gives new meaning to the cover design of the Oneworld Classics edition:Things become even more bizarre for Comrade Korotkov when, temporarily blinded in one eye after quality-testing the matches, he misreads a memo as:
“‘All typists and women generally will in due course be issued soldiers’ uniform drawers.’
‘That’s fantastic!’ Korotkov exclaimed in rapture, and gave a voluptuous shudder, imaging Lidochka in soldiers’ drawers.”
The surrealism of the story is heightened by the location of MatchMat offices in the former sites of Die Alpenrose, a leading restaurant in pre-revolutionary Moscow, and a girls’ boarding school. This leads to incongruous dual signage, such as:
“a sign in silver on blue saying ‘Duty Form Mistress’ and one in pen on paper below: ‘Enquiries’.”
Signage as a symbol of class warfare also appears in another story, “No. 13: The Elpit Workers’ Commune Building”, the tale of what happened to an elegant apartment building when the wealthy and mysterious tenants were replaced by “unprecedented folk” who played “ominous” music on their gramophones:
“It’s a terrible thing when kingdoms are falling. And that every memory has begun to die away... It was then that, by the gates, next to the lantern (a fiery ‘No. 13’), a white plaque was stuck up with a strange inscription on it: ‘Workers’ Commune’.”
The odd one out in this collection is “A Chinese Story”, about a “coolie” who ends up fighting in the Russian Civil War because he doesn’t understand Russian. I thought this story was in extremely poor taste, until I read Lesley Milne’s analysis. She suggests that Bulgakov wrote this piece as an exercise in evoking an “estranged reality” for the battle scenes in his first novel, The White Guard.
Soviet absurdism returns in the last story, “The Adventures of Chichikov”, a parody of the Soviet government’s New Economic Plan. Chichikov is what the British would describe as a “wide boy”:
“First name? Pavel. Patronymic? Ivanovich. Surname? Chichikov. Profession? Character in Gogol. Work before the Revolution? Purchase of dead souls.”
The stories in Diaboliad show the beginnings of the wonderful magical realism which Mikhail Bulgakov realised in his most celebrated work, The Master and Margarita.