Without Lifting A Finger

Great was the year and terrible the Year of Our Lord 1918, the second since the Revolution had begun. Sun had been abundant in the summer, snow in the winter, and two stars had risen particularly high in the sky: Venus, the Evening Star; and Mars, red and quivering. But in years of peace and blood alike the days shoot by like arrows, and in the hard frost the young Turbins had not noticed the onset of shaggy white December. Oh, Father Frost, sparkling with snow and happiness! Mama, radiant queen! Where are you now?

A first for me: Bulgakov's White Guard. Takes place in and around Kiev at the time of the Russian Revolution. A tidbit from the intro: Russia was the only state founded simultaneously upon European values and Eastern despotism. Hence the permanent identity crisis of Russia, which felt itself simultaneously both European and Asian. Granted, there are class distinctions in any state, but in no other state have they been so profound that they shaped two separate nations. No other state ever held almost ninety percent of its own population in slavery for centuries. The main problem that remains unsettled is: How does one remain honorable (and Bulgakov’s favorite characters talk endlessly about honor) when living in a state founded upon dishonor, on police corruption, ubiquitous theft, and violation of individual dignity? How can one be an honorable person and yet wish to preserve this state of affairs?