The Master and Margarita

by

Mikhail Bulgakov

The Master and Margarita: Situational Irony 3 key examples

Chapter 3. The Seventh Proof
Explanation and Analysis—The Streetcar:

Devilish, ironic luck follows Berlioz when he leaves the park. In Chapter 3, the literary editor reaches his bloody end just as he passes the turnstiles, exemplifying situational irony:

‘He turned it and was ready to step across the rails, when a burst of red and white light flashed into his face: the glass case lit up with a warning, ‘Look out for the streetcar!’

And all at once the streetcar careened around the corner of the newly-laid line from Yermolayev Lane to Bronnaya.

A thought exercise comes to eerie fruition at this moment, as Berlioz meets the very fate he had hypothetically contemplated. In Chapter 1, Woland ventures the possibility that “he may suddenly, for no known reason, slip and fall under a streetcar!” Now with the streetcar thundering in his direction, he loses his grip, slips over the cobblestones, and gets thrown across the rails.

Still, the streetcar incident is only the first of many signs that things will go awry. As though teaching the editor a lesson, Woland brings the streetcar in Berlioz’s direction and unleashes chaos. Koroviev cooks up a feast for Styopa, Woland takes over apartment 50 and renders Prokhor Petrovich’s body invisible. Tramping through the city, Woland throws a wrench in reality. As mischief runs afoot, Berlioz’s death exemplifies the dark sense of humor by which the novel—perhaps like life—operates.

Chapter 9. Koroviev’s Stunts
Explanation and Analysis—Devil Knows How Far!:

In almost the same way idiom and irony cross paths, Nikanor Ivanovich bumps into the strange man with the pince-nez and jockey cap as he checks on apartment 50 at the start of Chapter 9:

‘Why, he’s gone, he’s gone already!’ shouted the interpreter. ‘Oh, he is way out by now! The devil knows how far he is!’ and the interpreter waved his hands like a windmill.

This moment breaks down the colloquial idiom and uncovers its strange irony in the process. Used humorously or for dramatic effect, the Devil is often a source of figurative flair and exaggeration. Here, a phrase of exasperation and ignorance—“the devil knows”—becomes literally true as Koroviev explains away Styopa’s disappearance. Having transported Styopa to the Yalta’s sun-warmed jetties, Woland ironically happens to know his victim’s whereabouts.

Bulgakov supplements the exchange with still more irony. Koroviev—party with the Devil—somewhat self-references in his performance of confusion. There is dramatic irony, too. Ivanovich does not know that he has just wandered into the Devil’s clutches even though the reader does. The scene layers a perplexing set of ironies and coincidences upon each other: the building chairman finds himself speaking with a member of the Devil’s crew (who himself speaks about the Devil).

Chapter 18. Hapless Visitors
Explanation and Analysis—No Good People:

Maximilian Andreyevich enters apartment 50 with high hopes and a strange acquaintance. Meeting a tomcat and a crying stranger in Chapter 18, Berlioz’s uncle feels a sudden upwelling of emotion, in a moment laden with paradox and irony:

Berlioz’s uncle was sincerely moved by the stranger’s conduct. “And they say there are no good people left in the world today!" he thought, feeling that his own eyes were beginning to smart.

The encounter is ironic on situational and dramatic levels. There is Maximilian’s obliviousness to the grieving stranger’s identity as Woland’s accomplice, a fact all too well known to the reader. But Bulgakov creates an additional irony in the uncle’s rush to conclusions. Claiming Koroviev’s performative grief as proof that “good people” still exist in the world, Maximilian mistakes the Devil (no less) as a force for goodness. He assigns morality to a figure that is perfectly antithetical to virtue.

This is a telling confusion that underscores the anomie of Soviet-era Russia and contributes to the novel’s moral ambiguity. Maximilian’s admission creates a paradox in which the Devil happens to be better than the people themselves. Koroviev—at least by his superficial impressions—seems no worse than Maximilian and his guarded, property-motivated gestures of bereavement. People, not the Devil, exchange their clothing, accept illegal payments, and pilfer diamond-encrusted horseshoes. By some accounts, Woland even surpasses humans in grace. He reunites the Master with his lover, granting them a peace and fulfillment that Soviet society’s snobbish literary circles could not. Ironically appraising humanity, Bulgakov makes way for complexity.