With the ink still wet on his diploma, the twenty-five year old Dr. Mikhail Bulgakov was flung into the depths of rural Russia which, in 1916-17, was still largely unaffected by such novelties as th emotor car, the telephone or electric light. How his alter-ego copes (and often fails to cope) with the new and often appalling responsibilities of a lone practitioner in a vast country practice - in blizzards, pursued by wolves and on the eve of Revolution - is described in Bulgakov's delightful blend of candid realism and imaginative exhuberance.
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