The Futility of Books
No, I don’t mean all books, or even all chess books. Just the majority of them. You know the ones I mean. Khalifman’s leventy-seven volume set on the opening for turquiose according to Rex Reed. The umpty-leven page tome on the latest variation on move 23 of the Ruy.
Seems like everyone writes chess books for people other than the club players who actually might want to improve (of course, as Norwood observes, there are a goodly number of them who don’t).
Chess, as machines play it, is a game of calculations. Chess as humans play it, is a game of logical thought aided by calculation. The difference is simple: machines have the musclepower to calculate faster than humans, while humans are better at using fuzzy concepts to guide their calculations. (While machines can work with fuzzy concepts, no machine uses them as well as a good human does.)
Since that is the defining factor for human chess, why is it so many books ignore that and simply contain one concrete variation after another? The concrete lines are good for the player who has mastered the use of the fuzzy concepts, but those players also have access to the latest in databases, so they really don’t need the concrete lines. The majority of players need help with the acquisition and proper use of the fuzzy concepts of center control, relative piece value, development, etc.
Which brings me to my method for selecting chess books to study (as opposed to chess books to collect, a completely different bug that will suck you dry if you get exposed to it, so be careful out there): Open the book to four random pages. If the words-to-moves ratio on at least three of those pages isn’t at least two-to-1 (and preferably more like 4 or 5 to 1) and it isn’t a tactical “puzzle book,” it goes back on the shelf. Moves and variations I can get easily; I’m after knowledge and understanding, and I don’t get that from chains of moves.
January 18th, 2007 at 5:57 am
Nice work, Arlen. You’re covering some interesting topics.
I think the reason many chess books, supposedly written for the class-player, have so many concrete variations is because the books are really written for the author’s peers. It’s an ego thing. The book is written ostensibly for the improving player, but the author has to show his buddies he really knows what he’s talking about. This situation probably happens more than you would think. It’s also quite contagious. Jeremy Silman, Jon Rowson, John Watson, and others (well, you know, the good writers), prove the exception. Older books (Purdy, Ed. Lasker, Reti, et. al.) seem less concerned with pedantic style, as well.
– Howard Goldowsky
January 25th, 2007 at 12:50 pm
Thanks, Howard.
For my money, the best GM writing today is Jonathan Rowson. Aside from being a nice kid (yes, I’ve met him, but that’s not why I’m beating this particular drum) he seems to have the right combination of skills to actually create useful material. He’s got the chess knowledge and ability, his academic training gives him some great insights into the workings of the mind and the learning process, and he’s self-aware enough to realize he needs to season the mix with just enough color and humor to make the pills easy to swallow. Chess For Zebras in particular is an amazing book; it’s one of the few recently published books to make my “Desert Island List” — a small pack of books that would insist on taking with me if I were to be marooned on a desert island. I like his writing style so much I went out and bought his book on the Grunfeld, even though I never play that opening!!
Norwood makes much the same point you do. The writer is writing for the professional chess-player, because only a professional or someone trying to become one, can possibly benefit from a four-volume set on the French; the club player, even if he committed the set completely to memory, would blunder after leaving the recommended lines.
What’s needed most on the market are the books like RHM’s How To Open A Chess Game, or Euwe’s The Middlegame, or Pachman’s set on strategy and tactics. Books that use words to explain the principles of the game, and use games and game fragments only to illustrate the lessons they have already explained. There’s got to be material to do that somewhere, or are grandmasters only the ones good enough to make sense of the chaos or lucky enough to have someone at hand who can make it make sense to them?
September 19th, 2007 at 1:29 pm
Some of my favorite chess books with a high word/variation ratio:
40 Lessons for the Club Player - Alexsander Kostyev
The Ideas Behind the Chess Openings - Reuben Fine
Chess Middlegame Planning - Peter Romanovsky
Strategic Chess - Edmar Mednis
Best Lessons of a Chess Coach - Sunil Weeramantry