I spent two weeks in the south of Switzerland this summer, the first half of which was in a beautiful rustic house in the midst of mountains, without cell phone reception or WiFi. We would sit outside and play chess, pet the dogs or read. One day we got an apricot soda, took a sip and immediately started hiccuping – when a young man appeared out of nothing.

“Excuse me, please”, he said, “if, not being your accquaintance, I allow myself… but the subject of your conversation is so interesting that…” What a a strange thing to say, since we had been talking about my career, hardly an interesting topic for outsiders. On a closer look I couldn’t believe my eyes: The stranger looked like myself! Just about two decades younger.

Okay, that last thing never happened. I just wanted to make a reference for my Russian readers and book nerds. It’s from the novel The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov, which has been written in said country, or more accurately what it once was: The Soviet Union under the rule of Stalin.

In it, the devil and his three minions (among them a giant talking cat named Behemoth) visit Moscow and wreak havoc, while at the same time exposing the hypocrisies of the literary establishment and the people in power. The novel is a satire full of carnival-esque slapstick but touches on the big themes like good and evil, cowardice and what it means to make art in the face of adversity and censorship.

A visit from young Roman

If I hadn’t been off the grid for a week I probably wouldn’t have read this wild 400 page novel. I would have hung out on Twitter, checked my e-mails and read up on blog posts. 

Instead, I embarked on a journey to reconnect with my younger self, 20 year old Roman. See, I started The Master and Margarita 16 years ago, but I never got past the second chapter.

I first heard about the Russian classic through my favourite band, the Lawrence Arms, who reference it on their 2003 album The Greatest Story Ever Told. The Lawrence Arms are a punk rock trio from Chicago and if you’re not familiar with the genre they probably sound pretty run-on-the-mill: Fast songs, dirty guitars and a gravelly, irritating singing voice.

But from the second listen onwards, they’re less typical. There’s a second singer with a more mellow voice and singing style. Their lyrics are full of amazing wordplay and poetry. They cultivate a wild mix of references from lowbrow pop culture and classic literature and everything in between. To give you an example, this is what they put in the liner notes of the album:

“Who are thou, then?”
“Part of that Power which eternally wills evil and eternally works good.”

Goethe’s Faust

“Everything was fine until dickless here cut off the power grid!”
“Is this true?”
“Yes, your honor, this man has no dick.”

Bill Murray in Ghostbusters

I loved it. It was the perfect smorgasbord for me and the multitudes that I contained. I came for the loud guitars, but I stayed for the words.

A different path

The band turned out to be very influential for me: Through their work, I discovered books like Slaughterhouse-Five, The Catcher in the Rye and now The Master and Margarita. They were, to me, a representation of what a band should be all about – a group of friends making records and touring the world to make music – which prompted me to start my own group. When I wrote songs back then, I definitely imitated their style. And while I’ve never been good or cool enough to go on tour, I’ve always played in bands up to the present day.

While the Lawrence Arms and their poetry stayed with me, my own evolution of language and creativity took a different path. I largely stopped writing songs, became a journalist and my priorities for prose shifted: When you write for the mass news media, you want to be as understandable for as many people as possible. There’s no room for playfulness, mystery and obscure references.

At the same time, I started reading more and more non-fiction books with the purpose of learning practical things for my life. These books are valuable, but they’re more about extracting information than about finding joy in stories and language. A friend recently asked me for recommendations for her summer vacation and I realized that I had barely read any novels in the last years. And I wasn’t gonna recommend Getting Things Done as holiday reading.

Clash of generations

Finally finishing The Master and Margarita this summer rekindled my old love for literature. Oh how fun it was to dive into this strange world. I had almost forgotten what it was like. When I came back home, I read the diary of Anne Frank, which was deeply moving. I got annoyed with myself that I hadn’t read it earlier.

Now I’m left wondering if, despite my recent experience, there’s something from my youth that is forever lost. Even writing these words is a bit weird. My 2020 self is constantly nagging me with questions like: What are you trying to say with this article? What’s the core message? How is it useful for the readers?

Young Roman, who, in the devils fashion, has appeared out of nothing to mess with me, answers: What have you become, old man? Does it matter so much? We’re telling a story here. Maybe some people can relate to it. And if you look closer, there are some interesting themes here: The meaning and importance of art. A conversation with your past self. A band as distant mentors for almost two decades.

Guys, guys, get it together. Sigh, I know you’re both afraid that you’ve grown too far apart. But don’t we, deep down, all want the same? We’ll just have to find a way to get along.

Bringing it all together

The Lawrence Arms just released a new album called The Skeleton Coast. You can listen to it if you want to blow off some steam – or contemplate the richness of life, or both. The guys are still going strong. For example, in the lead single PTA, they take the film Trains, Planes and Automobiles, a road comedy with John Candy and Steve Martin from 1987, as an inspiration for a song about love, loss and loneliness. 

Maybe they can serve as my mentors once again: If these guys can juggle the mundane and the profound, add something of their own and create something amazing out of all that – maybe I can too?

The cover image by my wife Catherine shows the Bavona valley in Ticino, Switzerland.