Books of the Month by Ben Graff

The best new writing and the greatest classics under one roof … in association with Forward Chess

This month we explore three very different books.  Prepare To Win by Jonathan Arnott is an extremely useful guide for club players who want to learn how to prepare for their opponents. The Match of All Time by Gudmundur G.Thorarinsson takes us behind the scenes at Fischer vs Spassky, as the tiny Icelandic Chess Federation sought to manage both the erratic Bobby Fischer and the increasingly frustrated Soviet chess delegation. The Delights of Chess by Assiac contains a treasure trove of games, anecdotes and observations, with a love of chess shining through on every page.

For all their differences, each of these books conveys a similar level of enthusiasm and possibility as to what the sixty-four squares can offer, both to us as players and as keen followers of chess’s history and stories. There is much to enjoy here.

It has also been an exciting month for me personally, as my new book Checkmate! Great Champions and Epic Matches from a Timeless Game has just been published by White Star. It was an intriguing project, and I am delighted that it is now available. Perhaps more on this in a future column…

Prepare To Win
by Jonathan Arnott
(Steel City Publishing)

In September I played in the Kenilworth ECF Blitz event. The tournament was terrific fun, complete with all the usual roller-coaster moments you get in super-fast chess. From hanging rooks through to falling flags, missed opportunities and lucky wins, I had an action-packed day. Yet in amongst the drama, one game has stayed with me. My opponent moved swiftly, even allowing for the time-limit. The noose tightened and I was soon lost. Afterwards, he told me ‘Not to worry in terms of the rest of the congress’, as the whole game had fallen within his home analysis. His rating was not even especially high.

This led me to reflect on my own chess preparation. Was what had happened some sort of fluke occurrence, or a product of my not doing enough work on my own game? If I wanted to do more, how should I go about this? Knowing where to start did not feel obvious. It seemed like fate when Jonathan Arnott handed me a copy of Prepare To Win - an excellent read, and one that has given me plenty to think about. As Grandmaster Gawain Jones notes: ‘Armed with the recommendations in this book it will become even tougher for us titled players to out-prepare our opponents.’

Jonathan highlights that ‘…in the computer age every serious club player now has two choices: learn to prepare for your opponents or become a target for their preparation.’ Yet while this might depress some, it also represents a massive opportunity for all of us who want to improve our results. As Jonathan neatly puts it, ‘The aim is simply to reach a position in which you feel more comfortable than your opponent.’ Once there, good things are likely to follow.

Jonathan Arnott is a Candidate Master, with numerous GM and IM scalps to his name. He writes very well, and in a way that players of all strengths will be able to follow, drawing on his own games to illustrate key concepts and approaches. Part practitioner, part analyst, he illustrates a fresh approach that will surely be of help to many players.

From thinking about your set-ups through to thwarting your opponent’s preparation and dealing with novelties when they appear on the board, there is much here to consider. Jonathan notes that ‘At club level, and, honestly, it’s something I see very regularly at 2000-2200 as well, players tend to respond badly to ”the first move they haven’t seen before”. It’s the number one area where I believe players should be able to improve their game.’

I would certainly concur with Jonathan’s assessment. Like many chess players, I tend to make moves without always being able to explain my choices, particularly when an opponent has taken me out of my comfort zone. Jonathan’s practical tips (illustrated by good examples) on looking to understand the reasoning behind a novelty, properly assessing whether it is strong, and how to identify both your candidate moves and the style of your response, provide a helpful and workable methodology. In setting out his own thought process, he has given all of us a framework that we can build around, and this is certainly something I am going to try and adopt in future.

Jonathan also sets out a ‘toolbox’ of resources that a player can use, ranging from ChessBase through to OpeningTree and Chessable, and highlights how to get the most out of all of them. As somebody who has spent thousands of hours on Lichess and Chess.com, I was intrigued to learn that these were also potentially powerful research tools that I was far from fully exploiting. If you can tear yourself away from endless games of blitz, there is much meaningful development work that can be done on these platforms.

Plenty of other useful tips abound, including in his chapter on ‘the dog in the night-time’, in which Jonathan highlights that it is ‘worth searching through your own games [online] from time to time so that you can see what they see.’ All the games Jonathan shares are illuminating and fun to play through in their own right. This is certainly a book to be enjoyed as well as one to learn from.

Ultimately the internet revolution has democratised chess. Long gone are the days when the young Bobby Fischer had to teach himself Russian so he could keep abreast of games in Soviet journals. In today’s world we all have access to the same information as the professionals. Jonathan Arnott’s gift is in showing us how to use it.

I can’t wait to put some of what I have learnt from Jonathan into practice the next time I take part in an ECF event. It would certainly be a good feeling to tell somebody else not to worry, having beaten them thanks to superior preparation - a scenario that is certain to become more likely for all of us with the help of this book.

The Match of All Time
by Gudmundur G. Thorarinsson
(New In Chess)

‘No one has more influence on Fischer than I – and I have no influence at all.’
--- Larry Evans – quoted in The Match of All Time

Fifty years on, Fischer vs Spassky remains the most famous encounter the chess world has ever witnessed. It is worth reflecting on why this might be. The historical context surely plays its part. The pair were far from ideal role models for their respective political regimes, but it fell to them to represent West and East against the backdrop of the Cold War. Fischer’s sheer brilliance as a chess player must also be a factor, but it is not obvious as to why this of itself would have cut through with the wider public.

Perhaps Fischer the man rather than Fischer the chess player is ultimately what makes this battle stand out above all others. His sheer erraticism made his moves even more difficult to predict away from the board than they were on the chess table. It was far from certain whether he would even turn up in Reykjavik for the 1972 showdown with Spassky, let alone stay the course. Can you imagine what it must have been like to play a part in the organisation and management of the event, given the sheer unpredictability of its main protagonist? Gudmundur Thorarinsson did, and in The Match of All Time he shares his story.

Thorarinsson notes that there have already been 140 efforts on Fischer vs Spassky, but ‘We still do not have a book written by someone who was working behind the scenes when the bombs were falling.’ Thorarinsson knew that Iceland, given its remoteness, relative lack of resources and limited 1970s satellite communication systems, was an unlikely choice of venue, yet ‘A weird and complex sequence of events would lead to the decision to stage the match in Iceland.’ This is the tale of a tiny chess federation, led by Thorarinsson, a man who had never wanted to be its President, which somehow found itself playing host to a match that gripped a global audience.

Inevitably, much of the detail of Fischer vs Spassky is already well known. Fischer’s endless protests over prize money, the noise of the cameras, the seating, lighting, chess board and pieces are all stories well-travelled - as are the events surrounding Fischer’s blunder in game 1, no-show in game 2 and the subsequent course of the match. Yet Thorarinsson goes beyond these in places to exquisitely highlight the invidious position that the organisers found themselves in at various stages of the saga, not least the official opening ceremony - the main problem being that Fischer had yet to make an appearance in Iceland. Thorarinsson had to decide whether to open the contest without its star player, or to cancel it.

‘As I arrived at the National Theatre the Foreign Minister’s Chief of Protocol rushed towards me, clearly very upset: “What kind of person are you? We’ve got the President of Iceland, who has been kept waiting for 20 minutes, government ministers, the World Champion himself, foreign dignitaries, ambassadors, members of the press and many other guests. And you turn up late, in your working clothes. You are a total embarrassment to everyone!”’

One can only imagine how acute the stress of this moment must have felt, and it was only when he was ‘one metre from the stage’ that Thorarinsson decided to open the match and to hope for the best. All the while the team also had to manage the Soviet delegation, who were considerably keener than Spassky to use Fischer’s behaviour as a pretext to terminate the contest.

Sometimes a casual conversation with a stranger can have a significant impact on what follows. Thorarinsson recalls a lady in a bar advising him that the best way to work with the Soviets was to ‘never say no’ as that terminates the negotiations. ‘You just always have to say: “Yes…I would really like to accept your proposal and I do agree on most of your points of view, but my circumstances are such that it is not entirely up to me.”’ - a tactic that appeared to work well at various moments when the future of the contest hung in the balance.

As history shows, the Soviet delegation did not walk away, although according to Thorarinsson Spassky later lamented his determination to play by saying ‘What a fool I was.’ Spassky particularly acknowledged that agreeing to participate in game 3 in a small room behind the main stage played into Fischer’s hands. Not only did it allow Fischer to dictate terms and to regain his composure, but ironically the drone of the traffic from a nearby road far exceeded the supposed sound of the cameras in the main hall. Incredibly, it was noted that ‘Fischer doesn’t mind that kind of noise,’ highlighting the essence of his unpredictability. Though the subsequent games were played in the main hall, Fischer held himself together through various twists and turns to claim the crown.

Thorarinsson shares some nice anecdotes. Fischer apparently once watched a game in Central Park and afterwards pointed out a ‘clever move’ that neither player had spotted. He was asked if he knew anything about chess and on telling them that he was Bobby Fischer, ‘The chess player smiled and retorted “Yes, and I am Albert Einstein.”’ In relation to Spassky, Thorarinsson recalls that Boris’s coach once warned the rising Soviet star that ‘The girls will come after you. It is not going to be easy. Later Spassky admitted: “He was right.”’ Perhaps my favourite story comes later, when Boris Spassky was hospitalised during his 1977 Candidates match against Hort with appendicitis. He received a phone call from a concerned Bobby Fischer (a man who deeply distrusted doctors) urging him not to have the surgery. Fortunately, ‘Spassky ignored his advice.’

The Match of All Time also contains lengthy chapters on the origins of chess, and biographies on former world champions. These are well written and interesting to read but felt to me to be at best tangential to the specific subject of the book. Including the match games might have worked better. The final chapter on ‘the aftermath’ tracing the rest of Fischer’s life seems more relevant, but all of this means that the section on the actual match only runs to about sixty pages, albeit with a further forty on the build-up and the preceding Candidates matches. 

Thorarinsson notes that, ‘Many of those I worked with have passed away, and it seems that I am one of the very few left who was a witness to all the almost unbelievable happenings that took place in connection with the match.’  Few would disagree with his conclusion that ‘There is a saying that history will repeat itself. That is not always true. The World Championship match between Boris Spassky and Bobby Fischer will never be repeated, and no chess match ever will be anything like it.’ Thorarinsson is to be thanked for his contribution to keeping the show on the road. The Match of All Time is a worthy addition to our understanding of this most famous of contests.

The Delights of Chess
by Assiac
(MacGibbon & Kee)

‘”My favourite game?”, he asked. “But how can I tell you? Surely I haven’t played it yet.” And then, with a roguish smile, he added: “Maybe I’ll play it tomorrow.”’
--- Mikhail Tal – In Conversation with Assiac

A few weeks ago, I found myself in London with a little time to spare and enjoyed a pleasant visit to Chess & Bridge on Baker Street. In amongst their excellent contemporary wares are several shelves of alluring second-hand books. It was wonderful to browse, not knowing what I might find, before I happened on an intriguing hard-backed volume by a writer whose name was new to me but will be well-known to older readers.

The Delights of Chess contains fascinating portraits (often based on first-hand discussions) that Assiac had with a host of famous chess players, ranging from Sir George Thomas through to Max Euwe, Emanual Lasker, Jose Capablanca, Paul Keres, Mikhail Tal, David Bronstein, Vasily Smyslov and Leonard Barden. In addition to their favourite games, a section on problems and compositions is shared as well as some further ‘Odds and Ends’. It is brilliantly written, and now, just over sixty years on from its original publication, provides fresh light on a previous era.

I have since learnt that Assiac was the chess correspondent for the New Statesman, where his column ran for over 400 issues, in addition to his chess books. (The eagle-eyed may have spotted that Assiac is Caissa – the Goddess of chess – spelt backwards.) A passionate chess fan, writing about the game was nevertheless actually a sideline for this talented author, whose real name was Heinrich Fraenkel.

Born in Germany, Fraenkel emigrated to England around 1930 and was a vehement anti-Nazi who wrote extensively criticising the Nazi regime. He was also the author of seven 1930s Hollywood films, the most famous of which was the 1936 Juggernaut. In the decades that followed he published numerous significant biographies of members of the Third Reich. The chess world is fortunate that, in his lighter moments, Assiac wrote about our game with such joy and warmth.

He brings to life some intriguing happenings. It transpires that eccentricity in chess is nothing new, if some of these stories are anything to go by. The famous British chess player Sir George Thomas once met a ‘great chess master’ (sadly unnamed) at the railway station, such that they could drive together to a mutual friend’s house for the weekend. He was somewhat perplexed when the luminary stepped from the train with no bag or suitcase. Sir George enquired as to why this was the case. ‘”My luggage?” chuckled the master. “Why, I’ve got it right here.” And, reaching into a capacious breast pocket, he produced a large comb.’

Nimzowitsch had a ‘famous head crammed with a thousand variations of opening theory and endgame technique,’ but sadly practical matters proved somewhat more challenging. Sir George told Assiac that he was surprised when Nimzowitsch asked him if they could walk together to the tournament hall for the Carlsbad event in 1929, a journey that Nimzowitsch must have made ‘some seventy or eighty times’ in the preceding weeks. ‘Alas, he had never been able to remember the way. He usually cottoned on to one of the other masters staying in the hotel.’

In similar absent-minded vein Rubenstein was often so ‘deeply wrapped up in his thoughts’, following a game, that he would eat in the dining room and would then walk in again for another meal, ‘completely oblivious to the fact that he had finished one only a few minutes ago.’

Some great chess players were hardy souls. Assiac recalls Gligorić diving into an outdoor swimming pool before his game in a Bognor Regis event, even though ‘the desolate surface of the water [was] briskly ruffled by icy gusts of wind blowing in from the beach.’ On emerging from his dip, Assiac thought that ‘some large towels and a hot-water bottle would be indicated,’ but instead Gligorić ‘took a brisk run around the pool and a deep breath of icy air.’ The long-lived Jacques Mieses similarly enjoyed his exercise, telling Assiac that he regularly took an early morning swim in the Hyde Park Serpentine when well into his eighties.

There are also terrific stories about Lasker berating Assiac when Assiac referred to an amateur chess fan as being akin to a dominoes player. ‘”What do you know of dominoes?”, he asked. “How dare you sneer at a very subtle and far from easy game?” And forthwith he gave us a most lucid lecture on the finer points of dominoes when played at that masterly level.’ One must also get a wry smile from the tale of Euwe being challenged to a game while on a train by a local club champion, who had not recognised him. Unsurprisingly, Euwe beat him, only for the poor man to lament on reaching his stop that ‘It’s unbelievable…Fancy me being beaten by a mere train acquaintance! Me who, back home, is called the Euwe of my club!’

Assiac captures the changing of the times. Botvinnik told him that ‘Gone are the days… when a great master such as Capablanca could afford to sit down at the chess-board more or less casually, taking time off from his duties as a diplomat and his pleasures as a man of the world.’ Apparently, Capablanca thought that his prowess was such that chess was essentially played out. But his optimism and place at the top of the chess world would ultimately be superseded by those who were capable of deep preparation. It is now clearer than ever that there will always be more to discover about our wonderful game.

In terms of youth, Assiac saw Fischer becoming a grandmaster at fifteen as ‘probably a unique event,’ but this is something that has now become commonplace. Regardless of where Fischer would take his talent in the years that followed, Assiac was right to highlight the singularity of his gifts. In a chapter written before Tal became the then youngest ever world champion, Assiac brilliantly captured Tal’s intensity at the board. ‘He would slump down, bent double in utter concentration, his nervous fingers burrowing in his unruly shock of dark hair. Then he would make his move with astonishing speed and get up again, pacing restlessly around like some nervous lion cub.’

With regard to the UK chess scene, Assiac reflected thus on Clarke, Penrose, Barden and Wade: ‘When seeking the common denominator for that young generation of British chess masters, one cannot but confirm that they appear to be uncommonly earnest and seriously-minded young men and that, even while they were still in or near their teens, their style (on the chess-board) was remarkable for its maturity rather than that reckless exuberance commonly attributed to Youth.’

Assiac was highly complimentary of Leonard Barden’s exceptional work as an author. ‘It goes without saying that Barden’s diligence as an analyst and theoretician is equally well reflected in his journalistic work.’ His column in The Field lives up to the tradition of the oldest chess column in England, and in the Manchester Guardian the game chosen and carefully annotated by Barden has usually some particular didactic value, so far as opening theory is concerned.’ All these decades later of course, Barden’s writing continues to be just as brilliant and well received, and Barden represents a link between eras: as appreciated by Assiac in the 1960s as much as he is by the rest of us today.

The Delights of Chess has truly been an unexpected and welcome discovery for me. It is wonderful to ‘find’ a ‘new’ author, even if he will already be familiar to many of our readers. I’m certainly very keen to now track down Assiac’s New Statesman columns. I would recommend this book to all.