Bulgakov’s “Master and Margarita” (post 3, Chapter XIII, “Enter the Hero”): The mystery man on Ivan’s balcony is “The Master,” a nameless writer.

The Master is another patient in the psychiatric hospital, and he tells Ivan the tragic story of his failure to get his novel about Pontius Pilate published—perhaps the same story that Woland, The Devil, had told in Chapter II (titled “Pontius Pilate”).

Ivan does not comment on the coincidence between Woland’s and The Master’s narratives [correction: he does note the coincidence]; which would not be so coincidental if Woland and The Master were two personalities of the same person’s mind.

Were Woland and The Master two of Bulgakov’s narrative personalities?

Nameless

This is the [eighth] time that namelessness has come up in this blog. The other six were Homer’s Odyssey, in which Odysseus pretends to be nameless to fool the Cyclops; the post about Edgar Allan Poe’s multiple personality; Daniel Defoe’s Roxana, in which the title character’s real name turns out to be Susan; Mario Vargas Llosa’s The Bad Girl, in which the title character’s real name is not revealed until nearly the end of the novel; the fairy tale, Rumpelstiltskin; and Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca; [and Mark Twain's No. 44, The Mysterious Stranger].

Nameless personalities are very common in multiple personality. The personalities who have names—because they come out often and are socially active—are usually the tip of the iceberg.

And indeed, The Master describes himself as not being socially active: “I don’t make friends easily as a rule…it’s a strain for me to be with people…”