The Beet Generation

Whether or not they feel part of a literary trend, these writers’ Russianness has become a marketing tool for their publishers

The Great Translation Chart

From Vladimir Nabokov’s monstrously bloated Onegin to David Mamet’s extra-lean Cherry Orchard, we rifle through English translations of Russian lit classics and pick the best. You’re welcome.

This past Friday the 13th marked exactly 68 years since the completion of Mikhail Bulgakov's magnum opus, The Master And Margarita. It is, in a way, the only clear birthday one can celebrate for his cult masterpiece, a decidedly un-Soviet fantastical satire in which the devil comes to Moscow and torments the sinners (i.e., everyone). Bulgakov died in 1940, leaving the novel unfinished. His wife completed it in 1941, but the government refused to publish it until the Thaw, although by that time it was already an underground sensation. Bulgakov’s old flat, the very same "no good apartment" haunted by the devil's minions in the novel, has become a Mecca for M&M devotees. This is all by way of telling you that RIA Novosti has made a spooooky video about the place, complete with swinging lamps!

Remember our man, Alexander Pushkin? Russia’s greatest quill, Pushkin was publishing epic poems by age 15, authored what is arguably the world's finest novel in verse (Eugene Onegin), but famously managed to die like an idiot at 37, after challenging his wife’s alleged lover, Georges d'Anthès, to a duel. Here’s the silver lining to that story. The bloody sofa he died on was never sold on eBay — or, for that matter, cleaned. Now, some CSI: St. Petersburg types are looking at swabs and blood samples taken from the sofa in order to more precisely evaluate Pushkin’s demise. No, dying in peace is not an option.

Victor Pelevin’s latest fantastical satire is an occasionally delightful mess.