McCreadyandChess

Did you know that a rain forest the size of Covent Garden is cut down everyday to make way for chess publications? Hundreds of species are reported to have lost their home, become untraceable (as no forwarding address was left) and even extinct occasionally. One species, it is said, secreted an oil which has soothing capacities for those in time-trouble, an indigenous GM from Brazil claimed. He added further that pre-match preparation rarely extended beyond incorporating the oil into a balm which would be rubbed into the shins during play. I wonder if chess will ever become partially responsible for environmental catastrophe -that is should such a thing be possible-hmm…perhaps I should stop buying hard copies and seek out the soft copy in a less guiltier fashion just in case?!

Not intentionally -and without guilt I might add- I recently picked up the publication that cost the most out of the 30-something books I’ve acquired this year. It’s not often that I pay over 40 quid for a book, in fact its only ever happened twice in my whole life. Being the most expensive chess book I’ve ever bought, perhaps it was inevitable that the publication would pop its way up the reading order somehow.

The book I am referring to is Edward Winter’s Chess Facts and Fables. which is a McFarland publication from deepest, darkest two thousand and six…or 2006 as its also known. Winter is known for his famous Chess Notes website. Like many, I have respect for its author, which is the primary reason why I bought the book. Specifically, I wanted to see how the published and on-line content differed, hoping the published material would be superior in content. Though there’s truth in that, the published material does not differ greatly in quality, though enough to justify purchase.

Some Comments

The purpose of the text is explained clearly in the preface:

‘Fact and fable are commonly intermingled, and chess historians have a hard time disentangling them, for the game’s literature is particularly blighted by untrustworthy assertions, rickety anecdotes and dubious quotes. The intention of the Chess Notes series, which began in 1982, is to sort out fact from fable and to present fresh, accurate material.’

Winter is not a distinguished player as such but a historian (not an historian given that it is currently 2012), meaning that the text is academic in approach and format. He is critical of chess literature on the whole, with the rigours of academia perhaps putting him at variance with literary conventions, or lack thereof, in chess literature. Before looking more closely at the text, I would like to reflect upon this potential variance with a pre-amble.

A Preamble

How do we make headway through the jungle of chess literature effectively? Is it a fundamental mistake to attribute blame towards a collective of individuals within chess, or are there issues within the literary culture of chess which are broader? Here’s some thoughts from William Hartston, taken from the August edition of the British magazine Chess:

“You have to separate the professional players who are actually making a living out of the game, and the professional players who are just layabouts who don’t do anything other than play chess of whom there are always lots” (pg.24) 

I would like to argue that Bill’s comments apply to literature in chess for a number of reasons. Without over-simplifying matters, there are many authors in chess who have a noticeable weakness in terms of distinguishing ability from knowledge, and in turn knowledge from the communication of knowledge. There’s often an underlying assumption amongst the guilty that being endowed with chess ability enables you to write & research competently, which are it seems, not skills in their own right. Instead, they are natural bi-products from chess ability and thus do not need to be practiced and mastered to the extent that chess does. Unfortunately, there is some justification here: if a literary genre is poor on the whole, why should anyone have to worry about the quality of their publications? Aren’t my mates the publishers? And won’t that uncritical reader Joe Public just buy anyway? However, should you want to achieve originality rather than mediocrity, then a more reflective approach is required. On page 132, Winter describes the writing of Reinfield and Golombek as being glib and portentous in its attempt to reveal the motivations of Botvinnik. I can’t reproduce the source as the quotation is lengthy, however, it is hard to disagree that what is reproduced appears fabricated rather than researched. On page 248, former world champion Lasker comes under scrutiny, appearing in an article named ‘Literary Controversies’

“An English edition of Dr.Lasker’s ‘Chess Manual had just come out to a most reverential reception by the critics. The Doctor, however, had by no means done his homework, and furthermore had indulged in some obscure philosophy and phoney eloquence which, had it come from anyone else, might have raised an awful whisper of waffle!”…

Personally, I’ve always found motivation to be a perpetual problem in chess literature, and that its vital -not necessary- to ask yourself what the primary purpose behind writing is: to educate or to supplement an income in a poor man’s game by making a name for yourself? Did the author actually enjoy the writing process, do they have the credentials to write effectively, and if so, exactly how much thought went into the construction of the text, given that incoherent analysis, incomplete sections, rushed, wrong format, contradictory, poorly researched, no substantiation of important points, can seem par for the course with certain publishers & authors? Winter, often appearing as a sniper, has an easy time taking such individuals to task, as we all have. However, it is important to remember that the relative structure of academia (where some of us do perform proper research) and publishing in chess differ greatly.

In broader terms, the problem of practitioners misapplying themselves to the craft of writing can be found in all sports & pastimes. It is not just chess that suffers from this problem as many distinguished sportsmen/women often turn their hand to writing, usually with negative results. Though, in my opinion chess literature is generally poor, there has been discernible improvement in the last ten-twenty years. Poker, the game of the day according to Kasparov, is another good example of game in which top players will write about how to improve your game, whilst lacking the skills to do so effectively. The author of this blog has delved into such publications, and can confirm that poker literature is in far worse shape than chess literature, generally speaking (but makes for a better xmas present).

The question of exactly who should and shouldn’t write is a complex one as many factors -most importantly profit-can dictate; having a name or a title, however, can create a false sense of security by offering opportunity where those more suitably qualified are overlooked. After all, why wouldn’t you want to hear directly from someone who has helped fashion history rather than some unknown academic or journalist, isn’t that how the story goes? Well you should at least question such an approach because the person who literally writes history with their achievement is rarely able to document it effectively. Sometimes, sound literary practice doesn’t even come in the window let alone go out it, what is produced is often questionable on a number of levels, as Winter mentions above. What I think is particularly frustrating about chess is that it is an intellectual pursuit, you -or at least I- don’t expect the craft of writing to be treated with such scant regard. Top chess players are noted for being bookish and intellectual yet they frequently contribute poor literature, completely lacking in inspiration and originality. Writing, like chess, is an art/science/skill, whatever you want to call it, that takes years to master. If you believe you can write effectively about something you do just like that with no real talent, training or application, then in my opinion, you have allowed either a need for money or a love of chess to blind you. There’s a saying which goes ‘Those who can, do, those who can’t teach’ In the context of the modern game I would modify that to ‘Those who can, do and write about it too, whilst those who can’t teach’. It shouldn’t be like that, pools of talent should be based on merit only and should remain separate from one another so that neither drags the other down. It’s only us who are rubbish at everything -my particular field of expertise-that should cross boundaries so willy-nilly, as no one cares what we say -right readers?

Once again my points are generic, I will refer more directly to examples as I encounter them. I should close by stating it is not my intention to review texts that are suspect, nor to criticize and offer solutions. This pre-amble was written to highlight issues that are apparent to me within chess literature and to reflect upon them, that’s all.

Content

Some points of personal interest within, starting with the Anglophile, Capablanca.

Chess by climate

It’s probably illegal for Cubans to dislike Capablanca and being a Brit I am compelled to say that I also enjoyed the Capablanca interview on page 89. I say this because of the close relationship Britain and Cuba have, ever since a bus route was constructed between the two, following this linked tv clip http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uc_NS_4QCWI. The tricky thing about interviews, however, is that the uncreative journalist can only publish what was said, they cannot publish what the interviewee thought of the interview or the interviewer. There are often good reasons for this, such as wanting to keep your job. But all this means that its difficult to ascertain the seriousness of what has been said. If the person being interviewed disregards the publication or doesn’t like the interviewer, the interview is often best ignored. Let’s look at a rather tongue in cheek Capablanca in transit from Havana to Moscow:

‘Climate, Capablanca said, has more to do with creating chessplayers than any other factor. He regards himself as an ‘accident’ in the chess world, as, he asserts, tropical or semi-tropical countries seldom produce a chessplayer…England, he thinks, produces excellent chessplayers because of its peculiarly raw climate, which drives men into indoor pursuits’.

Though he may have been able to support his views with statistical data, I would like to think his comments are somewhat light-hearted, perhaps inspired by a cuise-liner martini? Of course Capablanca wasn’t to know of the contribution chess has made towards environmental catastrophe and its impending doom, in which most countries will be either ‘tropical or semi-tropical’ as he put it.

More seriously, a serious attempt is made to document the often overlooked period of transition between Alekhine and Botvinnik. I found this to be section fascinating if somewhat incredible in places. Above all, I helped frame the difficulties F.I.D.E has had throughout its history, revealing that internal dissensions are precisely what gives F.I.D.E its name. It is a sad fact that 70 years on, little has changed. I don’t think we’ll ever be seeing GM Danny King applying his catch-phrase ‘Start-right’ to F.I.D.E.

An example of how easy Winter’s job is can be found on page 110. He addresses a misquotation by Chernev, concerning what is generally considered to be the worst advice in chess, that being the oft quoted ‘Great players never castle’. Winter is quick to point out that the original statement runs as follows ‘Good players seldom castle until the end of the game, and often never at all’. The alleged ‘worst advice in chess’ is in fact nothing more than a statement based upon the play of a few individuals.

On page 257, Mr Winter turns his attention to Kasparov’s work entitled ‘My Great Predecessors’ ??! –  a highly dubious publication. Though, admittedly, much of the content of Mr.Winter’s writing can appear a little obscure and perhaps even irrelevant, here is a topic which is of great importance for the modern chess player. The account provided is invaluable to any inquiring reader as so much can be learnt -and not learnt-from the collective effort which Mr.Kasparov has put his name to. The listed errors alone is off-putting, however, but for those of us who do enjoy writing for what it is can tell you, it is the construction of the text that is most revealing. What Mr.Winter has to say is important not only because it draws into question the text itself but also, to some degree, the literary circles within which the text appeared. Those of us who have dared to delve into them know how abhorrent they can be…sadly we are in a small minority.

To conclude, reading Winter’s work is an education in itself. It questions the efforts of generations of chess players without being haughty or condescending. Given that it is the only text I have read which he has written, I do not wish to extend my comments to his more general aims for writing. It is true that there is a sense in which exemplifying the mistakes of others is an all-too-easy task, and at times I did wonder where it all leads, as defining what history is or what it involves for Mr.Winter is difficult to establish. I hope that I will one day find a definition of what history is according to Mr.Winter, because his efforts to establish truths in chess more often involve correcting others than constructing the past with his own voice.

Unfortunately, many regard the critic as an enemy, instead of seeing him as a guide to the truth …  –  Wilhelm Steinitz