"Rules for Brittania" "The Chessplayer's Battle Manual" by GM Nigel Davies, 1998 Batsford Books, Figurine Algebraic Notation, Softcover, 160pp. $19.95 Reviewed by Paul Kollar As the great millennial wheel grinds noisily toward those three pregnant zeroes, predictions are in the air. If I may, here's one now: in the next century, probably by 2020 if not before, the top chess nation will be: China, or England! Why China? Well, that's just my very long shot, but they have, with Xie Jun, already having captured the women's world title, and if they can do that with virtually no chess heritage to draw upon, then their men should soon be at the top too. The USA men's team would have won the Elista Olympiad in 1998 if they had managed to crush the Chinese team, an expected result not too long ago, but they were held to a 2:2 draw by some guys who just started playing yesterday. To my shame, I cannot name a single other Chinese player of either sex. That will inevitably change, and soon. There's more to that globe-tilting mass of people than Ping-Pong. Why England? Why would anyone nominate a country that went decade after decade after decade without even one grandmaster to champion itself? Why suggest England as the next dominant chess nation when, in this twentieth century, the tiny isle came nowhere near the World Championship until as late as 1993, only to be blasted away by a genuine superpower that easily scored six to one against their heir presumptive? After Lasker, Capablanca, and Alekhine took chess to and through WWII, the Soviet Union, or, more specifically, Russia, grabbed world chess with both hands and, despite the challenging dissolution of their political empire, hold it still. England, and other countries, too, have still to reckon with players like Kramnik, Svidler, Morozevich, Ivanchuck, and Gelfand. Also, there are other formidable continental powers to contend with: Holland, Hungary, and now France are scoring heavily. Their American cousins aren't doing too badly either, native talent augmented by a steady stream of expatriated, former Soviets. We must not forget, either, the anomalous jewel in the former crown, Anand. So, to repeat, why England? Two demonstrably persuasive reasons clear my crystal ball: Firstly, because British chess, as befits a nation that is steeped in tradition, has an almost intoxicatingly rich heritage a chess history that is thicker than toffee and more textured than their woolen tweeds. For a good half-century or more modern chess was British chess. Looking backwards can often aid foresight. Secondly, because shortly after the rise and pathetic fall of Fischer twenty-five years ago, (and there may be a near-invisible connection), British chess has been undergoing a long- overdue resurgence, a full-blown renaissance. I am usually in no hurry to agree with Raymond Keene (himself a harbinger of Albion redux), but when he stated, in Chess An Illustrated History (1990), that England was "now established as the second strongest chess nation in the world.", he was quite right and that was before Nigel Short became a world champion challenger. The players, plots, and settings of British chess history are almost (I exaggerate slightly) Shakespearean in dramatic color and sweep, and are a treasure for all chess players, British or otherwise. One could write a book, of course, but to recap with unjust brevity, let's regard some few highlights and milestones: Howard Staunton Defeats Saint-Amant in 1843, becoming the greatest player in the world, and, avenging McDonnell's loss to Labourdonnais, ends France's dominance. Arranges the first-ever International Masters Chess Tournament, London 1851 (using a knock-out system such as FIDE does now!). underwrites Nathaniel Cook's beautifully harmonious design for chess men, a pleasing and practical pattern still used around the world, even in China. Produces a number of popular chess books, including a "battle manual" titled The Chess Player's Handbook, which is still in print. Joseph Blackburne Participates in the first-ever round robin international chess tournament, London 1862 Participates in Czarist Russia's last great tournament, St. Petersburg 1914 (52 years later!) Defeated Lasker during the1899 London Tournament, and thereby became the last British player to beat a reigning world champion until Penrose won from Tal in 1960. London Hosts, at Slaughter's Coffee House, the Philidor vs. Stamma match, 1747, which initiated France's century of dominance. Point of origin of the opening of the 19th century when Captain W. D. Evans discloses his gambit to McDonnell in 1826. Hosts, at the Westminster Chess Club, the epic matches between Labourdonnais and McDonnell in1834. Scene, at Simpson's in the Strand, of Anderssen's Immortal Game, 1851. Becomes home for Wilhelm Steinitz between the1862 tournament and the magnificent International Tournament of 1883 (in which chess clocks were introduced). Becomes home for Steinitz's powerful antagonist Johann Zukertort in 1872 Becomes home for Isidor Gunsberg, who drew a match with Tchigorin in 1890, and lost a world championship match to Steinitz in 1890-91. Becomes home, albeit for only two years, for Emanuel Lasker in 1890-92, who, in this span, played and defeated "everyone" at match play, and won a small but strong tournament half a point ahead of Blackburne. Hosted another incredible tournament in 1899. (please see Tim Harding's column, The Kibitzer, for January 1999, in The Chess Cafe). Hastings Locale of renowned, legendary International Tournament of 1895, a favorite of American players, and the birthplace of a long- standing and charming traditional chess event for over a century. With a legacy of that magnitude established at the close of the 19th century, one would have expected the onset of a British world champion early on in the 20th - someone out of London or the Midlands or somewhere, some young man incandescently inspired by Blackburne's tactical panache, and lofted by that rich heritage. But 75 years were to pass before England could be proud of a single native grandmaster. Perhaps the loss of their queen disturbed their impetus and will. Whatever the reasons, British chess went into a long hiatus, only occasionally punctuated by significant, though random events. To name a few: the Hastings Victory Tournament of 1919; the very strong London 1922 Tournament (where Capablanca came up with the notorious "London Rules", instigating bad blood between himself and Alekhine); the first FIDE International Team Tournament (Olympiad) in London, 1927. Also, never to be forgotten, I hope, the fabulous Nottingham Tournament of 1936, my personal choice as greatest ever tournament of all time (forget the poorly planned AVRO). England's best players in that era between 1899 and the death of Alekhine and ensuing Soviet hegemony were of an amateur cast, very strong, but not quite world beaters. Notable among them were, of course, Atkins, Thomas, Yates, and Winter. Later, in the 30's, these talented few were joined by Alexander, Milner-Barry, and Golombek we shouldn't count the visiting phenomenon, Mir Sultan Khan. After WWII, the exhausted Brits hit rock bottom when their national teams lost to the Soviets repeatedly, and by disastrous scores. Nevertheless, in 1951 William Winter wrote, in the preface to his Chess for Match Players, that "British chess to-day is undoubtedly on the upgrade ", and this brave, if not overly hopeful, pronouncement was validated solely by the advent of Jonathan Penrose. Clearly the strongest player in Great Britain since H.E. Atkins, Penrose, International Master in 1961, won the British championship ten times! He played in nine Olympiads, coming up with ten wins and five draws on first board in 1968 only World Champion Petrosian did better. But Penrose, as did his post-Victorian antecedents, (as did Morphy,) elected to remain an amateur, and for reasons of health, curtailed his stressful competitive play. Throughout this history, it should be noted, the English were royally compensated by a succession of wonderful writers on the game. There were Walker, Staunton, and Mason of course, but in this century the galaxy expanded ten-fold. As direct contributors to the best of the British chess endowment, they deserve to be mentioned. There is P.W. Sergeant (my first chess book was his Championship Chess); G.H. Diggle; W. Winter; P.H. Clarke; R.G. Wade; Gerald Abrahams (his simply-titled Chess is a uniquely masterful work, almost too good!); D. Hooper; K. Whyld; R. N. Coles (his Dynamic Chess is practically the only explanation of chess play between 1920 and 1960); and the nonpareil, indispensable E.G.Winter of Chess Notes fame (and a Chess Cafe columnist). I apologize to the many individuals I have failed to mention. If you will allow that this too-compressed historical crib has brought us to the days of Reykjavik, then you may well know what happened next. The supernova that was Fischer blew global chess sky-high and shook players of the capitalist, communist and third worlds into another dimension. Young players, even not-so-young players were amazed and inspired. I do not claim Fischer was the cause, necessarily, but submit that he may well have been the catalyst for what then happened in Britain, when his seasoning was stirred into the rich stew of that flavorsome chess legacy. In the blink of an eye, almost without warning, England had their first international grandmaster, Tony Miles, in 1976. He had already become the World Junior Champion in 1974, casually taking leave of Sheffield University to pop over to Manila and win that title by a point and a half. As an aside, I should mention here that it is incomprehensible to me that the British chess authorities did not erect a statue in his honor at the site of Simpson's Divan. Then it was Raymond Keene's turn to get the IGM title, also in 1976 (no statue for Keene either, but I expect he may yet raise his own). By 1980, in addition, there was a veritable British Pleiad in the persons of Mestel, Stean, Nunn, Botterill, Hartston, Speelman, and Basman, all international masters or better. This was the decade in which England began to usurp the 2nd and 3rd place finishes in Olympiads that had been regularly commanded by Hungary and Yugoslavia. The 80's, as we know, also brought Nigel Short to the top (IGM 1984), quickly followed by both Michael Adams (the world's youngest IGM in 1989), and Matthew Sadler (world's youngest male IM in 1990). In the 90's Short, among other successes, came in ahead of Kasparov and Karpov at Amsterdam in '91, and defeated Karpov in the '92 candidates match, a feat that is a great rarity among all the other IGM's - save one. Short lost badly to Kasparov in 1993, and was, thereafter, I think, rather wounded, but in the match he fought like a tiger, and came very close to producing one of the masterpieces of world championship games. His more abiding credit is to have brought British chess to that pinnacle after 150 years. More recently, in FIDE's first knock-out tournament, Michael Adams again brought the English very close to the world's (other) crown, losing his right to challenge the (other) World Champion at the last hurdle to the polite and punishing Anand. Most recently, practically as I write, and to underscore any point I might be making, yet other talented Englishmen were making world chess impacts: Stuart Conquest and Chris Ward tied for first place in the 1999 Caribbean Open (ahead of still another Russian ‚migr‚). So now, as in 1899, England seems poised to push poor Russia aside, and claim, finally, this earth, this realm of world chess dominion. Or so it would appear. Hopefully, now that I have gone to some lengths to "demonstrate persuasively" the rationale behind my introductory prediction of Great Britain's prospects, I don't appear to be some mad dog in the noonday sun. Or perhaps, despite the apparent consensus to the contrary, many, in fact, already hold this view of a rosy British chess future, and I have been belaboring the obvious. Soothsaying aside, however, my main purpose is to show that our book under review emerged from a wonderful, a spectacular tradition, and it can be appraised not only for any intrinsic merit it may or may not have, but also as a worthy addition to a culture's historic output or not. An English author, any author really, of chess books should have, I believe, in the back of his mind, a consciousness of what has gone before, and should try to honor it. Does this mean every new book must be a veritable classic? Must we write Masters of the Chessboard, or Chess Praxis each time we essay a little handbook on the game? Not at all. We need only to write with a good degree of responsibility and honesty and enthusiasm, to opt for quality rather than quantity, to keep our mercenary urges at bay. Most of us, British and American readers certainly, other nationalities probably, are only too aware of authors who habitually and frequently subject us to ill-considered, dashed-off tripe and rot. Insult follows injury when such writers are celebrated as "having written over x dozen books", or are touted as "well-regarded as the world's foremost blah-blah", but are obviously dishing out the dispensable for quick gain. I am very happy to say that, after a doubtful moment or two on my part, Mr. Nigel Davies does not fall into that category, and has produced a legitimate and respectable book The author is an English grandmaster, and other traditions have streamed together in his manual. He has been credited with helping English IGM Matthew Sadler "achieve a major breakthrough in his game", and has been working hard to help club players as a trainer and coach, by, among many other efforts, "having analyzed literally thousands of club player's games". The English club player is the fundamental particle in the universe of British chess and for more than a century or two has been the foundation on which the whole mighty edifice rests. The author's book is also of a traditional type the self-help manual that masters of chess have been issuing periodically since the ninth century. Besides Staunton's Handbook, most will recall Lasker's Manual of Chess, Capablanca's Chess Fundamentals, Tarrasch's The Game of Chess, Mason's The Art of Chess, and Nimzovitch's My System. Let's credit Edward Lasker's Chess Strategy as well since both Keres and Fine appreciated it. Davies' book is admittedly not of the caliber of these classics, but is as sincere and well-intentioned as any of them, and will produce results for the diligent, average club player for whom it was intended. The Chess Player's Battle Manual provides advice on lines of opening play and endgames and some other material. It's a slim little work, modest and unassuming, and very much directed at the English club player to be sure. It's very cozy and "teddibly " British you can sense the herringbone overcoats, the pipes, the furlong length scarves, the sweater vests, and maybe the out-of- control hair on the younger club members. And, naturally, the tea. Davies is also, in the British manner, very practical minded in his views, and down to earth in his language. His agenda is clear, simple and direct. He wants to help busy and harried club players, people with jobs, wives, homework, a social life perhaps, improve their understanding of the game, and maybe bump up their rating a bit. There's no ultra dense, heavy theorizing from secret Soviet archives, or ten-ton analysis of impossibly complex games. We'll get to fat, difficult books later, maybe for now let's see how to get through a Grand Prix Sicilian adequately, or manage to save one of those "all rook endings are drawn" finales that aren't all that simple for average players. Such a book has its place, and if you're a candidate master or better, don't sneer, just save your money for Dvoretsky or Nunn or Speelman. If, though, your BCF rating is wobbling around 125, or your USCF rating is a shaky 1400-1700, then I believe you can both enjoy and benefit from this unpretentious work. If your rating is higher than this, but you are not (yet) an expert or candidate master, the book would serve best, if at all, as a condensed review, and as a prelude to more detailed works. Should you go for this manual and find yourself improving, you might care to try King and Duncan's Choose The Right Move, or Tisdall's Improve Your Chess Now, or, if Davies has turned you into a serious and strong player in spite of yourself, Nunn's Secrets of Practical Chess after all. All three of these suggested books are somewhat heavier going than is Davies', but his will prepare you, coupled with effort on your own part, for any or all of these recent, quality additions to the genre. Incidently, it's rather curious that three of these books, all published within the last year, each have something negative, or at least corrective, to say about Kotov's "tree of analysis" and candidate move selection process. I'm glad because ever since I encountered Kotov I have been miserable over my complete inability to think that way. Also curious is the fact that both Davies and Tisdall recommend blindfold play as an aid to strengthening calculation ability. So much for Soviet advice these days. Davies has organized his petite manual into eleven chapters, actually nine since the last two chapters are merely thirty-two quiz diagrams, sixteen tactical, sixteen endgame positions which, to use Capablanca's favorite phrase, "the student should work [this] out." (One shouldn't say "merely". I firmly believe that all players under master level can increase their strength by at least one class level, probably more, by going through Reinfeld's virtually text- free 1001 Brilliant Ways to Checkmate, or the like.). Davies' first chapter covers the essential matters of calculation ability and combinational vision. He says, "The ability to see ahead and analyse a position well is the most fundamental aspect of chess strength Very few games proceed without any tactical complications so this really is an inescapable reality of chess." He is far from alone in this view. Suetin tells of Petrosian's preparations for his first World's Championship title defense in 1966. After untold hours of work and study, Tigran said: "You know, all these lofty matters we have been studying strategy and endless opening subtleties are not the main thing. The match will be decided, first and foremost, by our calculation reflexes during play, or, as they say, who is better at doing 'you go there, and I go here'". Kotov, in Play Like a Grandmaster, maintains that these two qualities, together with positional judgement, are the three foundation stones on which mastery rests. Davies' second chapter quite naturally concerns itself with developing good positions through understanding rather than memorization, and points the reader toward knowledge of typical pawn structures that arise in various openings. He wants the student to see how a plan arises from the topography. Chapter Three has advice on building an opening repertoire, and chapters Four through Six cover some specific openings that are prevalent in British club chess: the "1 d4 charge", the Trompovsky, and the Grand Prix attack (so-named from the British Grand Prix tournament circuit now you know). By the by, the "1 d4 charge" stuff recalled a now very dusty memory of Horowitz and Reinfeld's How To Think Ahead In Chess (1951!), wherein the opening was called the Stonewall Attack. There's a distinct hint of the parochial in these chapters, but they can be of value to any player of average standing. Mr. Davies rounds out his battle manual with chapters on the endgame, the chess computer, and, finally, suggestions and advice on "practical play". The too-short endgame chapter at least includes a passing reference to two very good books that the reader might turn to for further study. The "Man vs. Machine" chapter emphasizes tips on beating the beasts rather than using them as helpers. Personally, I would prefer domesticating rather than hunting these synthetic creatures. In his last and shortest chapter, really a kind of post-script, the author offers a handful of sound advice on competitive play. As with the endgame section, one could have hoped for somewhat more, but what is there is good enough for now for the intended audience. As a final mild regret, may I add that the book would have been appreciatively more helpful had it included a bibliography, or list of "suggested further reading". Davies closes by expressing his "firm belief that within every player there is a better player", and has written this book in accordance with that sentiment, with sympathy and kind understanding toward the humble club player, British or otherwise. I like him for that, and for being a credit to his country's chess tradition, and a credit to the game itself. Within every writer there is a better writer waiting to unleashed, and we can look forward to the author's next book. Who knows but that Nigel Davies has, and will, contribute toward the ultimate flowering of British chess. Regarding my opening prediction, am I now going to hedge my bet? No way, not for all the tea in China.