Reviews

“but is it not already an insult to call chess anything so narrow as a game? is it not also a science, an art, hovering between these categories like muhammad’s coffin between heaven and earth, a unique yoking of opposites, ancient and yet eternally new, mechanically constituted and yet an activity of the imagination alone, limited to a fixed geometric area but unlimited in its permutations, constantly evolving and yet sterile, a cogitation producing nothing, a mathematics calculating nothing, an art without an artwork, an architecture without substance and yet demonstrably more durable in its essence and actual form than all books and works, the only game that belongs to all peoples and all eras, while no one knows what god put it on earth to deaden boredom, sharpen the mind, and fortify the spirit?”

“All my life I have been passionately interested in monomaniacs of any kind, people carried away by a single idea. The more one limits oneself, the closer one is to the infinite; these people, as unworldly as they seem, burrow like termites into their own particular material to construct, in miniature, a strange and utterly individual image of the world.“
my first stefan work, it was quite good! loved the contrast between the two characters. chess is something so important to both their lives— it is a means of life to both their lives czentovic and dr. b….. freak4freak

zweig's strength really do lie in crafting short stories like this


Note: This is a late review.
“But is it not already an insult to call chess anything so narrow as a game? Is it not also a science, an art, hovering between these categories like Muhammad’s coffin between heaven and earth, a unique yoking of opposites, ancient and yet eternally new, mechanically constituted and yet an activity of the imagination alone, limited to a fixed geometric area but unlimited in its permutations, constantly evolving and yet sterile, a cogitation producing nothing, a mathematics calculating nothing, an art without an artwork, an architecture without substance and yet demonstrably more durable in its essence and actual form than all books and works, the only game that belongs to all peoples and all eras, while no one knows what god put it on earth to deaden boredom, sharpen the mind, and fortify the spirit?”
Stefan Zweig's Chess Story is definitely a book beyond the 64 squares of a chessboard—it's a story about how the line gets blurry between genius and madness, between passion and obsession, and how the human mind can find refuge, and ultimately unravel, in the most unexpected of places. This book explores the psychological toll of isolation and trauma, using the game of chess as a powerful metaphor and a catalyst between the characters. It delves into the minds of two contrasting figures: Dr. B., a Viennese lawyer imprisoned by the Nazis, and Mirko Czentovic, a chess prodigy and world champion. Subjected to solitary confinement, Dr. B. finds solace, and ultimately obsession, in the game of chess after stealing a book on the subject. He plays countless games against himself, fracturing his psyche in the process.
Dr. B. and Czentovic represent two sides of the same coin when it comes to chess. Dr. B.'s obsession is born out of trauma and isolation. He uses chess as an escape, a way to maintain his sanity in the face of unimaginable torture by the Nazis. Czentovic, on the other hand, embodies a more innate, almost savant-like genius. He is socially awkward and seemingly devoid of emotional depth, but possesses an almost preternatural ability for chess. His skill is innate, almost mechanical, contrasting sharply with Dr. B.'s more intellectual and emotionally driven approach. While Dr. B.'s chess becomes a battle against inner turmoil, Czentovic's is simply a game, a skill he possesses without truly understanding its deeper implications. This contrast highlights the different ways in which chess can be used – as a means of survival, a form of self-expression, or simply a talent.
Chess Story is my first Stefan Zweig, and it will not be my last. So much tension and psychological depth are packed into a surprisingly short amount of pages. The novella is a masterclass in concise storytelling, efficiently building suspense and exploring complex themes. Zweig's portrayal of Dr. B.'s descent into obsession is both compelling and disturbing. We witness his gradual unraveling as he grapples with the trauma of his imprisonment and the consuming nature of his chess obsession. The other characters, including the enigmatic Czentovic, though fewer in number, are equally well-drawn and contribute to the overall sense of unease and psychological realism. Zweig is, without a doubt, a seasoned grandmaster of storytelling, skillfully moving his narrative pieces across the board of human experience.

they matched each other's freak

unironically me with tft… first zweig, love stories about obsession.

Focused and very descriptive. Good way to tell the stories of two characters

left me with a feeling of wanting more

my ex if he ever met magnus carlsen on a boat

It was my first from this author, haven’t played chess before, but from this book it seems like a great game

My first Stefan Zweig book!

My first Zweig book and needless to say this was brilliant. Chess and Nazis. A character’s descend into madness. Concise and unforgettable.

4.5 what could go wrong if you put two monomaniacs together and excite their very own monomania? a lot i’d say! i couldn’t tell if one is more extreme than the other as the latter wasn’t too fleshed out—and perhaps intentionally so. gripping from start to end; not a single dull moment within the 80+ pages. in fact, the tension was exponentially thicker near the end, you could cut it with a knife! while you don’t have to be well-versed in chess to understand the story, it helps a bit if you’re familiar with its philosophy. everything clicked. i don’t know how else to say it. the psychological warfare nazis used against their captives? it makes perfect sense for mr. b’s obsession with the royal game. if you don’t mind, i’ll go ahead and blunder my queen now.

at no point was i sure why this was taking me where it was and that’s a wonderful feeling to be handed by a novel this short and unembellished 😊 love when things justify and maximize their length. love when obsession is necessitated by a need for salvation. love when so much happens within so little.

“But even thoughts, as non substantial as they seem, need something to hang on to, otherwise they begin to spin and circle around themselves senselessly–even they cannot bear nothingness.” for only 100 pages, this is such a packed story, i find it so hard to summarise. it's about two people, one of them a rather simple, but renowned world chess champion, and the other, an unnoticeable man, who, although hasn't touched a chess board in more than 25 years, seems to be capable to pose a challenge for our champion. but as the story goes on, it unfolds to reveal that, really, it's about the power of the mind and the despair it can unleash. zweig uses chess here as a tool to look at nazism - apparently the only one of his works that delves into the topic - through a psychological lens. it's a lot to pack into so few pages, and yet the last 20 or so pages become a chilling mind game, so masterfully done. a solid 4.5, and i will have to sit with it for a while.

last book of the 2023. a gift from my grandma. wasn’t planning on reading anymore this year but i ended up slurping this book up in one sitting. a very enjoyable read

Gripping, and full of timeless insights on the psychology of fanaticism. Couldn't put this one down. "I have always been interested in any kind of monomaniac obsessed by a single idea, for the more a man restricts himself the closer he is, conversely, to infinity; characters like this, apparently remote from reality, are like termites using their own material to build a remarkable and unique small-scall version of the world."

My 6th book for #24in48readathon. Loved every word of this book. A gem. Such a rare gem. I will definitely re-read it.

3.5 stars, rounded up because the story is so good.

4.5 rounded up. "All my life I have been passionately interested in monomaniacs of any kind, people carried away by a single idea. The more one limits oneself, the closer one is to the infinite; these people, as unworldly as they seem, burrow like termites into their own particular material to construct, in miniature, a strange and utterly individual image of the world." this was really so good. short, yet powerful with countless threads for further thought. zweig's portrayal of nihilistic madness in parallel with the rationality of chess made for an intriguing contrast. there are two kinds of insanity presented here: a consuming, singular obsession, and the over-analysis of the self. at a certain level, both are grounds for great creativity and fecundity, but also deadly when extended far past human capacity. so where is that line?

A novella about a man's descend into obsession due to extreme isolation and stress. In a way it reminded me of Charlotte Gilman's The Yellow Wallpaper.

Fiction. Chess is merely a character, it isn't a story about chess. There is Czentovic, there is Mr. B and then there is Chess. Chess did something to Czentovic. Chess made him the man he is. Chess also did something to Mr. B. Probably saved his life by almost killing him. A story about two people with entirely different personalities, both of whom had their life massively altered by chess; playing a game against each other on a cruise. Intriguing characters and excellent storytelling.

സൂക്ഷ്മമായ കഥാപാത്രനിർമ്മിതിയുടെ മകുടോദാഹരണമാണ് ഒരു പക്ഷെ Stefan Zweig-ന്റെ ഏറ്റവും പ്രശസ്തമായ നോവെല്ല, “Chess Story” (The Royal Game). സെന്റോവിക് എന്ന ചെസ്സ് ചാമ്പ്യനെ, കഥ പറയുന്നയാൾ ഒരു കപ്പലിൽ വച്ച് കാണുകയാണ്. തന്റെ, ചെസ്സിലൊഴികെ മറ്റെല്ലാ കാര്യങ്ങളിലുമുള്ള അജ്ഞത മറയ്ക്കാൻ - അയാൾക്ക് ലോകത്തൊരു ഭാഷയിലും ഒരു വരി പോലും എഴുതാനറിയില്ല എന്ന് കഥ പറയുന്നയാളുടെ സുഹൃത്ത് - അന്തർമുഖനായി നടിയ്ക്കുന്ന ഒരുത്തനാണയാൾ. ചെസ്സിൽ തന്നെ തന്റെ അസാധാരണമായ നിരീക്ഷണ പാടവമാണ് അയാളുടെ വിജയ രഹസ്യം. ചെസ്സിനെക്കുറിച്ചു സംസാരിയ്ക്കാൻ പറഞ്ഞാൽ അയാൾ ബുദ്ധിമുട്ടുകയും ചെയ്യും. അയാളെപ്പറ്റി പഠിയ്ക്കാൻ കഥ പറയുന്നയാൾ തീരുമാനിയ്ക്കുകയാണ് (All my life I have been passionately interested in monomaniacs of any kind, people carried away by a single idea. The more one limits oneself, the closer one is to the infinite; these people, as unworldly as they seem, burrow like termites into their own particular material to construct, in miniature, a strange and utterly individual image of the world). എന്നാൽ അതെളുപ്പമല്ല. കുറേ ആലോചിച്ചു അവർ കണ്ടെത്തുന്ന വഴി, ചാമ്പ്യൻ കാൺകെ ചെസ്സ് കളിയ്ക്കുക എന്നതാണ്. ആളുകളുടെ ശ്രദ്ധ അവരുടെ കളിയിലേയ്ക്ക് തിരിയുന്നു, സ്വാഭാവികമായും സെന്റോവിക്കും അവിടെയെത്തിച്ചേരുന്നു. ആഖ്യാതാവിന്റെ സുഹൃത്ത് ഒരു കോടീശ്വരനാണ്, അയാൾ പണമെത്രയും ചിലവാക്കാൻ തയ്യാറാണ്. സെന്റോവിക്കിനു താല്പര്യമുള്ള കാര്യവും പണമാണ്. അങ്ങനെ ചാമ്പ്യൻ അവരുമായും മറ്റുള്ളവരുമായും കളിയ്ക്കുന്നു. അയാൾ തന്നെയാണ് ജയിയ്ക്കുന്നത്. എന്നാൽ അവർ വീണ്ടും കളിയ്ക്കുമ്പോൾ അസാധാരണമായ ഒരു കാര്യം സംഭവിയ്ക്കുന്നു. കളി കണ്ടുകൊണ്ട് നിന്ന ഒരാൾ ചാമ്പ്യന്റെ നീക്കങ്ങൾ ബോർഡ് നോക്കി പ്രവചിയ്ക്കുന്നു. അയാളുടെ നിർദ്ദേശപ്രകാരം കളിയ്ക്കുന്ന കഥാകാരനും സുഹൃത്തും ചാമ്പ്യനെ തോൽപ്പിയ്ക്കുകയും ചെയ്യുന്നു. ഇതോടെ സെന്റോവിക്കും ആഗതനും(ബി എന്ന് ചുരുക്കിയാണ് അയാളുടെ പേര് പറയുന്നത്) കളിയ്ക്കാനൊരുങ്ങുകയാണ്. ആഖ്യാതാവിന്റെ ചോദ്യങ്ങൾക്കു മറുപടിയായി ബി തന്റെ കഥ പറയുന്നു. പല സമ്പന്നകുടുംബങ്ങളുടെയും സാമ്പത്തിക ഇടപാടുകൾ കൈകാര്യം ചെയ്തിരുന്ന ഒരു സ്ഥാപനം നടത്തുകയായിരുന്നു ബി, ഹിറ്റ്ലറുടെ കാലത്ത്. ഹിറ്റ്ലറുടെ രഹസ്യപൊലീസ് അയാളെയും തിരഞ്ഞെത്തുന്നു. തുടർന്ന് ഒരു ഹോട്ടൽമുറിയിൽ, കഠിനമായ ഏകാന്തവാസമാണ് അയാൾക്ക് വിധിയ്ക്കപ്പെടുന്നത് (They did nothing – other than subjecting us to complete nothingness. For, as is well known, nothing on earth puts more pressure on the human mind than nothing. . . . you were hopelessly alone with yourself, with your body, and with these four or five mute objects, table, bed, window, washbasin; you lived like a diver in a diving bell in the black sea of silence). ഒരു സമയത്തും ബി തന്റെ ഇടപാടുകാരെ ഒറ്റു കൊടുക്കുന്നില്ല. എന്തായിരുന്നു അയാളുടെ ജാഗരൂകമായ, ഏകാഗ്രമായ മനശക്തിയുടെ രഹസ്യം? ഒരു ദിവസം ഒരു ഗാർഡിന്റെ കോട്ടിന്റെ കീശയിൽ നിന്ന് അയാളൊരു പുസ്തകം കൈക്കലാക്കുന്നു. അത് ചെസ്സ് കളികളെപ്പറ്റിയുള്ള ഒന്നാണെന്ന് കണ്ട്, ആദ്യം അയാൾ നിരാശനാകുന്നെങ്കിലും, പിന്നെ മനസ്സിനെ ഏകാഗ്രമാക്കാനും, തന്റെ മാനസിക നിലയെ തകർക്കാൻ കെല്പുള്ള ഏകാന്തതയെ പ്രതിരോധിയ്ക്കാനും അയാൾ ചെസ് കളി പഠിയ്ക്കാൻ തീരുമാനിയ്ക്കുന്നു. പക്ഷെ പഠിയ്ക്കുന്നത് എങ്ങനെ? അതിനും അയാൾ വഴി കണ്ടെത്തുന്നു. തന്റെ കിടയ്ക്ക വിരിയിലെ ചിത്രപ്പണിയിലെ കള്ളികൾ ചെസ്സ് ബോർഡ് പോലെ സങ്കൽപ്പിച്ചു, അതിൽ ചെറിയ റൊട്ടിക്കഷണങ്ങൾ കരുക്കൾക്കു പകരം വച്ചാണ് അയാൾ കളി പഠിയ്ക്കുന്നത്. എല്ലാം മനഃപാഠമാക്കി, ഭാവനയിൽ കണ്ടാണ് കളി - രണ്ടു കളിക്കാരായും അയാൾ തന്നെ കളിയ്ക്കുന്നു. അങ്ങനെ വളരെ മുന്നോട്ടുള്ള നീക്കങ്ങൾ പോലും അയാൾക്ക് മനസ്സിൽ കാണാനാകുന്നു. അങ്ങനെയാണ് അയാൾ സെന്റോവിക്കിന്റെ നീക്കങ്ങൾ പ്രവചിയ്ക്കുന്നത് (In fact what is presupposed by this kind of duality of thought is a total division of consciousness, an ability to turn the workings of the brain on or off at will, as though it were a machine; playing chess against oneself is thus as paradoxical as jumping over one’s own shadow). ഇങ്ങനെ അത്യസാധാരണമായ ഒരു പൂർവ്വകഥയാണ് അയാൾക്കുള്ളത്. സെന്റോവിക്കാകട്ടെ, ബാലനായിരിയ്ക്കുമ്പോൾ ഒരു പാതിരിയുടെ സഹായിയായിരുന്നു. പ്രതിഭയുടെ യാതൊരു ലക്ഷണങ്ങളും കാണിയ്ക്കാത്ത ഒരു കുട്ടി. യാദൃച്ഛികമായി അയാളുടെ കഴിവ് കണ്ടുപിടിയ്ക്കുന്ന പാതിരി അവനെ ടൂർണ്ണമെന്റുകളിൽ പങ്കെടുപ്പിയ്ക്കുന്നു - അവൻ എല്ലായിടത്തും അജയ്യനായിരുന്നു. ഒരിയ്ക്കൽ ഒരാൾ ഒരു പുതിയ ഓപ്പണിങ് പ്രയോഗിയ്ക്കുമ്പോൾ അവൻ തോൽക്കുന്നു, പക്ഷെ അതും ഹൃദിസ്ഥമാക്കിയ സെന്റോവിക്, അടുത്ത കളിയിൽ അയാളെയും തോൽപ്പിയ്ക്കുന്നു - ഇതാണ് അവന്റെ പഠനരീതി. അവിടെനിന്ന് പെട്ടെന്നാണ് അവൻ ചാമ്പ്യനെന്ന നിലയിൽ വളർന്നത്. ഇങ്ങനെയുള്ള രണ്ടു പ്രതിഭകളുടെ ഏറ്റുമുട്ടലിൽ എന്ത് സംഭവിയ്ക്കുന്നു എന്നതാണ് അസാധാരണമായ ഈ നോവല്ലയിൽ പ്രതിപാദിയ്ക്കപ്പെടുന്നത്. ഈ മത്സരത്തിന്റെ അന്ത്യം ഉജ്ജ്വലമായ വായനാനുഭവമാണ്. 1941-ലാണ് സ്വെയ്ഗ് ഇതെഴുതുന്നത്. തൊട്ടടുത്ത വർഷം അയാൾ ആത്മഹത്യയിൽ അഭയം പ്രാപിയ്ക്കുകയും ചെയ്തു. അഥവാ, തന്റെ പ്രതിഭയുടെ ഉന്നതിയിൽ നിൽക്കുമ്പോൾ - എന്തൊക്കെ തരത്തിലുള്ള ദുരന്തങ്ങളാണ് നാസികൾ വരുത്തിവച്ചിരുന്നത് എന്ന് കാണുക. അത്യസാധാരണ പ്രതിഭയായിരുന്നു സ്വെയ്ഗ്. അയാളെ വായിയ്ക്കുന്നത് അയാളുടെ പ്രതിഭയോട് ചെയ്യാവുന്ന ഏറ്റവും വലിയ നന്ദിപ്രകടനമാണ് എന്നാണെന്റെ പക്ഷം.
Highlights

“Where does it begin, where does it end? Any child can learn its basic rules, any amateur can try his hand at it; and yet, within the inalterable confines of a chessboard, masters unlike any others evolve, people with a talent for chess and chess alone, special geniuses whose gifts of imagination, patience and skill are just as precisely apportioned as those of mathematicians, poets, and musicians, but differently arranged and combined.”

“All my life I have been passionately interested in monomaniacs of any kind, people carried away by a single idea. The more one limits oneself, the closer one is to the infinite; these people, as unworldly as they seem, burrow like termites into their own particular material to construct, in miniature, a strange and utterly individual image of the world.”

But even thoughts, insubstantial as they seem, need a footing, or they begin to spin, to run in frenzied circles; they can’t bear nothingness either.

He would cast a single, seemingly cursory glance at the board before each move, looking past us as indifferently as if we ourselves were lifeless wooden pieces.

For suddenly I had something to do—something meaningless, something without purpose, you may say, but still something that nullified the nullity surrounding me; I possessed in these one hundred fifty tournament games a marvelous weapon against the oppressive monotony of my environs and my existence.

People and events don't disappoint us, our models of reality do. It is my model of reality that determines my happiness or disappointments.

But aren't we guilty of being insultingly disparaging if we refer to chess as a game? Is it not also a science, an art, poised between one and the other like Muhammad's coffin between heaven and earth, a unique synthesis of all opposites; ancient and yet always new, mechanical in its structure yet animated only by the imagination, limited to a geometrically petrified space yet unlimited in its permutations, always developing yet ever sterile, a logic with no result, a mathematics without calculations, an art without works, an architecture without materials, which has nevertheless proven more lasting in its form and history than any works or books, the only game that belongs every era and among every people, of which no one knows what god brought it to earth to kill boredom, sharpen the wits and tauten the spirit? Where is its beginning and where its end? Any child can learn its laws, any bungler can try himself on its field; and yet on this unchangeably narrow square is bred a particular species of master, unlike any others, people with an aptitude ordained solely for chess, specific geniuses in whom vision, patience and technique interact in as delicately determined a combination as in mathematicians, poets or musicians, but just at other levels and with other interconnections.

From my own experience, I knew well the mysterious attraction of the "royal game", this singularity among the pas- times men have invented, which steps magnificently out from under the tyranny of chance to award its laurels only to the intellect or, rather, to a particular form of intellectual ability. But aren't we guilty of being insultingly disparaging if we refer to chess as a game? Is it not also a science, an art, poised between one and the other like Muhammad's coffin between heaven and earth, a unique synthesis of all opposites; ancient and yet always new, mechanical in its structure yet animated only by the imagina- tion, limited to a geometrically petrified space yet unlimited in its permutations, always developing yet ever steril, a logic with no result, a mathematics without calculations, an art without works, an architecture without materials, which has nevertheless proved more lasting in its forms and history than any works or books, the only game that belongs in every era and among every people, of which no one knows what god brought it to earth to kill boredom. sharpen the wits and tauten the spirit? Where is its beginning and where its end? Any child can learn its laws, any bungler can try himself on its field; and yet on this unchangeably narrow square is bred a par- ticular species of master, unlike any others, people with an aptitude ordained solely for chess, specific geniuses in whom vision, patience and technique interact in as delicately determined a combination as in mathematicians, poets or musicians, but just at other levels and with other interconnections.