The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Dear Mr Daniel Radcliffe,

I do realise that the possibility of you coming across this review is VERY, VERY slim but if by some serendipitous twist of fate, you ever do, know that a person, miles away from you, is eternally indebted to you for this book and that she has an entire bookshelf that contains books you recommended her, not personally, but through newsletters that your secretary sent as replies to her 'Daddy-Long Legs' like letters-something she wrote you as a teenager.

So, for all those books but particularly this, thank you. Thank you SO VERY much! The reader in her and the blogger she has become because of book reviews, owes a LOT to you. Had it not been for you, this girl would have never stumbled across such a beautiful satire, such a haunting novel that makes one believe that because there's evil, there's also good, because there's darkness, there's also light.

True, the book isn't perfect because the true Master, Bulgakov, died before he could complete it. True, there are gaps, flaws but that doesn't stop the book from being truly mesmerising!

If ever I get a chance to tell you, in person, what all I felt while reading this book, the countless hours of sleepless nights I spent reading this and sympathising even with Satan and Pontius Pilate despite their evilness! Yes, the chances are slim, Mr Radcliffe, I do realise that, but then, did Pontius Pilate ever expect to suffer so much after executing Ha-Nostri? Did Margarita ever expect to go to the Satan's Ball? Did the Master ever expect bliss? And if I go by the concept of ad absurdum that this novel is based on, isn't it possible you'd read this letter of mine at least because you haven't read any other?


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