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Chessville Chess
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The Seven Deadly Chess Sins Reviewed by Rick Kennedy
I suppose for my review I could present the list of psychological errors (“sins”) that chessplayers make, according to Rowson – Thinking, Blinking, Wanting, Materialism, Egoism, Perfectionism, and Looseness – then write something like Great book, sometimes hard to understand, and then bow out gracefully. Unfortunately, that review has been written, as well, by Søren Søgaard (“…could be one of the best books this year… written on a high level… to get the most of it you have to be quite a strong player… Otherwise you don't understand much of what he is talking about.”) Søgaard gets some inadvertent support in his appreciation of the book from the young (early 20s) author himself, when Grandmaster Rowson, writing about Materialism – the comments could apply to much of the book – says:
It is Rowson’s vision of the Royal Game (and his frequent wanderings away from the topics at hand, to points chessic and otherwise) in The Seven Deadly Chess Sins that has made the book interesting to some readers and “uh, er, interesting,” to others. Likely Gambit would not have been interested an alternative title like My Dinner with Jonathan, but the work seems to me a bit like the soaring and windy 1981 movie “My Dinner with André,” which also had its aficionados and critics ("Like watching paint dry, only less entertaining."-- Ken Hanke, Mountain Xpress, Asheville, NC). In his Extended Preface, Rowson defines chess “sin” as a misreading of chess reality. I suppose he could equally have referred to a “cognitive error” or “brain malfunction” or “existential oversight,” but sin it is. That gives Rowson a chance to pontificate on “chess theology” and chess psychology, as well as toss in various Eastern and Zen ideas, and even make reference to Pirsig’s Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. Besides, the “sin” motif in the book’s title is catchy – would it have sold as well if it were named, say, The Cardinal Virtues of Chess ? – and the theme is carried out in each chapter (one for each sin). Rowson uses a lot of quotes in The Seven Deadly Chess Sins, from Bruce Lee to Yoda, including my favorite from Ring Lardner: “Are you lost, Daddy?” I asked tenderly. “Shut up,” he explained. The problem with Thinking is not that we do too little of it, but that we often think in rigid, confined, repetitive ways. We need to unlearn old habits, learn new ones, and above all, develop our intuition. If that synopsis appears dry and banal, understand that Rowson takes about as many pages as I did words to present his ideas about Thinking more fully and interestingly, using games to illustrate and reinforce his points. His suggestion of talking to your pieces – asking them where they want to go, what they want to do, how happy they are in their current position, etc. – as a way to develop your intuition is reminiscent of a technique used in Gestalt therapy. (As an aside, the author’s faith in the power of the unconscious is, oddly, reminiscent of some of Reuben Fine’s work.) As always, Rowson’s writing is thoughtful and amusing, although his sub-section, “Confused about Confusion?” flashes like a subliminal message to those who are getting in over their head. My caution for beginning or developing players is that to reject thinking, and rely on intuition or feeling in a game – you know, if it feels good, play it! – is a recipe for disaster. Likewise, the “rules” of chess, which Rowson, following in Watson’s footsteps (Secrets of Modern Chess Strategy), pooh-poohs, may well be stumbling blocks or restraints for stronger players; but, as both authors acknowledge, they are possibly educational and helpful for the beginner. (Think of training wheels on a bicycle.) You would think the sin of Blinking – missing the key moments in a game – would be a straight-forward evil to name, condemn, recommend a penance for and then move on. You would be wrong. No sooner does Rowson discuss some attributes of key moments, and present some useful ideas on how to identify them before they pass you by (with annotated games, as well) – then he tosses in a discussion on “trends” in a chess game (extended from Yermolinsky’s discussion in The Road to Chess Improvement) and pretty soon things are way too interesting, in a murky sort of way. (“There may be some positions where one side is better and worse, depending on whether you look at the position at hand or the direction of the game.”) I’ve read Yeromolinsky, and I would use the exact quotes to argue with Rowson and come to different conclusions. Probably that’s why he’s a grandmaster and I’m nowhere near it. Still, it’s hard not to agree with Kingston in his review, when he says Rowson is just talking about the static and dyamic aspects of a position – something the GM arrives at at the end of the chapter, anyway: “the importance of switching from dynamic to static considerations is not adequately reflected in out current chess symbols.” On to Wanting, the ways that a player’s thoughts and feelings about the (hoped-for, expected, needed, etc.) result of a game can lead to errors in perception. And you know what that can lead to. I enjoyed the writing on such topics as “playing for 3 results,” “going with the flow” (of course) and “gumption.” I wish he had written a bit more on Bill Jordan’s “theory of infinite resistance.” Rowson quotes Ian Rogers, who explains:
Rowson’s chapter on Materialism – “a condition in which material is the axis around which our thinking processes rotate” – is one of the longer ones. He starts out waling away on the long-dead horse of using only the point system (Queen = 9, Rook = 5, etc.) to evaluate a position (does anyone above Class D rely solely on points?). He has some really engaging things to say about how modern chess computers / programs are not materialistic (I think in places he plays with words, though). Then he approaches “The E=mc2 of Chess” and I want to yell Put down that blunt, Jon… (Didn’t Spielmann write about “converting energy into matter and matter into energy” in his classic The Art of Sacrifice?) On to the next chapter. According to Rowson,
We have met the enemy, and he is “I.” Tip-toeing past discussions on “Subject and Object” (I become nervous when someone quotes R.D. Laing), “Inter-Subjectivity” and “Responsibility” (of the existential kind), all of which left me dizzy enough to regret I hadn’t stayed grounded, I can embrace “Populist Prophylaxis.” (The future of Prophylaxis is great; everybody seems to be mentioning it these days. Rowson should write a book on it.) The chapter on Perfectionism is so down-to-earth, practical, and helpful, I have to wonder if it was written separately for another project, and then folded into the other Deadly Chess Sins. (Anybody who covers time trouble, its causes and remedies, is to be commended.) Looseness is almost as solid, so to speak. The author is referring to “the feeling that your are not in control of the game, whether you are drifting, overwhelmed by nerves, or tricked by emotional memories.” We’ve all been there, losing the thread of the game. Again, Rowson has his nostrums and remedies. (More on time trouble, too.) There you have it. A young man, gifted in chess, feeling his oats and writing about something he loves – sometimes on target and sometimes way “outside the box” (ouch; my phrase, a self-inflicted wound). If you like books that make you think – and occasionally mumble to yourself, and sometimes applaud, and sometimes disagree, and sometimes scream at the book and even throw it across the room (when it needs to be thrown) – it will be worth the effort to sit down (and stay) with. In a world that considers Joyce’s Ulysses great literature, and appreciates Duchamp more for his art than his chess, there certainly has to be room for Rowson’s oeuvre. The Seven
Deadly Chess Sins is not for beginners – except for the annotated games
and telling anecdotes, novices could get just about as much out of a good
review of the book. Average club players would probably do better to
tackle Nunn’s Secrets of Practical Chess or Tisdall’s
Improve Your Chess Now, or even
Purdy’s Search for Chess Perfection, all of which Rowson appreciates.
Strong or up-and-coming players, up to Expert might give Sins a try,
although they might find themselves skipping parts, for brevity or sanity’s
sake. Masters and grandmasters – and I think Rowson saw himself as
writing for them, as well – who have not yet done so, should buy a copy of
the book, raise a glass, and argue with each others about it for a
change, as opposed to various 21st moves in the Najdorf, FIDE
drug testing, or the latest Championship reunification plan…
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