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angethology 's review for:
Chess
by Stefan Zweig
I've noticed that some of my favorite books of all time tend to be on the shorter side, and this is no different. Stefan Zweig created such an incredibly moving and immersive story about fascism, specifically Nazi Germany, and the psychological damage of nothingness, and how developing an obsession can be a means for survival.
The narrator of the book is on a cruise ship to Buenos Aires and realizes that among the passengers is world chess champion, Mirko Czentovic, a talented prodigy who is cold and prideful. He eventually has the privilege of playing a game of chess with Czentovic, only to unsurprisingly struggle until a mysterious Dr. B comes along to help, and the game concludes in a respectable draw. With nervous excitement, Dr. B claims to have never actually played a real chess game, but his fervor about it is genuine. As the narrator says, the "royal game" is "the only game ever devised by mankind that rises magnificently above the tyranny of chance, awarding the palm of victory solely to the mind, or rather to a certain kind of mental gift."And Dr. B indeed seems to possess that mental gift, until he reveals that this gift is really a curse that has resurfaced due to his trauma. Zweig's writing style is quite dense and detailed in such a short format, we know every thought and all the rationale reflected by the characters. I think this almost "over-explanatory" nature however, stylistically makes sense and given the important role of chess here, only amplifies the very logical, black-and-white (pun-intended, sorry) essence of the game — and this rigidity directly represents the same characteristic that Nazi Germany subject their victims to.
Within the "immutable little square" where "unlimited combinations" of moves are possible, Dr. B is transported to the past where he was arrested by the Gestapo and locked in a room with nothing to do. Crude violence is one way to plunge someone into abject misery and submissiveness, but a void with no end in sight psychologically tortures you in a way your mind can't comprehend: "Solitary confinement in a complete vacuum .. was intended to create pressure not from without, through the violence and the cold, but from within, and to open our lips in the end." After managing to steal a random book of chess, Dr. B dedicates himself completely to the game to create some sort of structure in his days, as he doesn't want to be a "slave of the void." From the beginning, Dr. B describes the game with such earnestness and obsession, and even non-chess players can recognize the thrilling and intellectual stimulation that such games can provide.
Of course, this means that he can only play himself and has to play both the Black and White pieces, memorizing every single iconic game from the book. While this initially keeps his brain sharp and astute, he almost induces schizophrenia as a result of this: "My dreadful situation forced me at least to try splitting myself into a Black self and a White self, to keep from being curshed by the terrible void around me." As mentioned in the beginning, while the narrator sees chess as "playing," and chess professionals see it as "working," to us readers, Dr. B seems to view chess as a battleground to conquer — he wants to be the fortress while simultaneously wanting to flank it, he wants to attack both kings while simulatenously protecting them, causing his reality to crumble. And playing chess again, in the present, with Czentovic only triggers him into that reality once again. "Occupy[ing] a different material territory," in chess would usually limit someone's world and escapism to the 64 squares of the board, but in this case it subjects Dr. B to a historical atrocity where his incessant dedication is merely a response to not falling into an abyss, which unfortunately he still fell into. Czentovic's one-dimensional character as a chess talent who is apathetic and looks down his nose at everyone, is also quite salient to the representation of Dr B's breakdown and fascism, and Zweig uses this allegory in such a precise way that is neither too verbose nor too limited. All the characters shine the light on Dr. B's trauma and obsession with chess palpably, and the narrator serves as a springboard for neutrality that allows us to see the parallel between history and this specific game.
This book is suspenseful and eye-opening to both chess enthusiasts and people who don't know anything about the game, and most importantly, such an intensely & uniquely written book about the horrors of fascism. I don't reread books very often (including my favorites), but I have a feeling I'll revisit this one again a few times.
The narrator of the book is on a cruise ship to Buenos Aires and realizes that among the passengers is world chess champion, Mirko Czentovic, a talented prodigy who is cold and prideful. He eventually has the privilege of playing a game of chess with Czentovic, only to unsurprisingly struggle until a mysterious Dr. B comes along to help, and the game concludes in a respectable draw. With nervous excitement, Dr. B claims to have never actually played a real chess game, but his fervor about it is genuine. As the narrator says, the "royal game" is "the only game ever devised by mankind that rises magnificently above the tyranny of chance, awarding the palm of victory solely to the mind, or rather to a certain kind of mental gift."And Dr. B indeed seems to possess that mental gift, until he reveals that this gift is really a curse that has resurfaced due to his trauma. Zweig's writing style is quite dense and detailed in such a short format, we know every thought and all the rationale reflected by the characters. I think this almost "over-explanatory" nature however, stylistically makes sense and given the important role of chess here, only amplifies the very logical, black-and-white (pun-intended, sorry) essence of the game — and this rigidity directly represents the same characteristic that Nazi Germany subject their victims to.
Within the "immutable little square" where "unlimited combinations" of moves are possible, Dr. B is transported to the past where he was arrested by the Gestapo and locked in a room with nothing to do. Crude violence is one way to plunge someone into abject misery and submissiveness, but a void with no end in sight psychologically tortures you in a way your mind can't comprehend: "Solitary confinement in a complete vacuum .. was intended to create pressure not from without, through the violence and the cold, but from within, and to open our lips in the end." After managing to steal a random book of chess, Dr. B dedicates himself completely to the game to create some sort of structure in his days, as he doesn't want to be a "slave of the void." From the beginning, Dr. B describes the game with such earnestness and obsession, and even non-chess players can recognize the thrilling and intellectual stimulation that such games can provide.
Of course, this means that he can only play himself and has to play both the Black and White pieces, memorizing every single iconic game from the book. While this initially keeps his brain sharp and astute, he almost induces schizophrenia as a result of this: "My dreadful situation forced me at least to try splitting myself into a Black self and a White self, to keep from being curshed by the terrible void around me." As mentioned in the beginning, while the narrator sees chess as "playing," and chess professionals see it as "working," to us readers, Dr. B seems to view chess as a battleground to conquer — he wants to be the fortress while simultaneously wanting to flank it, he wants to attack both kings while simulatenously protecting them, causing his reality to crumble. And playing chess again, in the present, with Czentovic only triggers him into that reality once again. "Occupy[ing] a different material territory," in chess would usually limit someone's world and escapism to the 64 squares of the board, but in this case it subjects Dr. B to a historical atrocity where his incessant dedication is merely a response to not falling into an abyss, which unfortunately he still fell into. Czentovic's one-dimensional character as a chess talent who is apathetic and looks down his nose at everyone, is also quite salient to the representation of Dr B's breakdown and fascism, and Zweig uses this allegory in such a precise way that is neither too verbose nor too limited. All the characters shine the light on Dr. B's trauma and obsession with chess palpably, and the narrator serves as a springboard for neutrality that allows us to see the parallel between history and this specific game.
This book is suspenseful and eye-opening to both chess enthusiasts and people who don't know anything about the game, and most importantly, such an intensely & uniquely written book about the horrors of fascism. I don't reread books very often (including my favorites), but I have a feeling I'll revisit this one again a few times.