"The King" by J. H. Donner (translated by Richard De Weger), 1997 New In Chess, Hardcover, 385 pp., $65.00. Reviewed by Taylor Kingston To be frank, Jan Donner is not someone to whom this reviewer (along probably with most Americans) paid much attention or attached much significance during his life (1927-1988). Winning Dutch championships in 1954, 1957 and 1958, and gaining the GM title in 1959, Donner had a few good international results in the early to mid-1960s (notably 1st at Beverwijk 1963 ahead of Bronstein, and at Venice 1967 ahead of Petrosian), but he was never a FIDE Candidate nor reckoned among the real heavyweights of his time. At his only chance to make a strong impression in the U.S.A., the 2nd Piatigorsky Cup at Santa Monica, 1966, he finished last of 10, and photos in the tournament book show him looking downright unkempt and unhealthy, almost dissipated. Mainly he occupied a vague space in my memory as one of the best Holland could produce in a relatively unexciting period between the retirement of Euwe and the rise of Timman. However, Donner worked not only at the chess board, but also at the typewriter. And in Holland, where chess gets as much press as, say, baseball in the U.S.A., he did plenty of work. In the course of over 30 years he produced thousands of columns and articles, for a variety of Dutch publications including daily newspapers such as "De Tijd" and "de Volksrant," general interest periodicals such as "Elseviers Weekblad," and the purely chess-oriented "Schaakbulletin." For "The King" (subtitled: "Chess Pieces"), Donner's friends Tim Krabbe and Max Pam have chosen 133 examples from that large body of work, to represent the best of Donner's writings. It was first published in Holland in 1987, but now a limited edition English translation has been produced. If Donner the player failed to impress on this side of the Atlantic, the same is no longer true of Donner the writer. "The King" hits with such a variety of impacts that I am hard put to describe them. Like a fresh cold breeze? Like a stiff cup of black coffee? Like a selection of redolently ripe Dutch cheeses? Like a heavy snort of laughing gas? Like a whoopee-cushion on a pew in High Church? Like a sharp needle puncturing pompous bags of wind? "The King" is all of these and more. It is so varied in its material that it cannot be easily summarized, so bear with me if this review goes to some length in an effort to do justice to this remarkable book. The selections cover a tremendous variety of chess-related subjects. Some are more or less "straight" journalism: tournament and match reports (ranging from Dutch events to world championships), profiles of chess personalities, both major (Fischer, Tal, Korchnoy, Euwe) and minor (Diemer, Saemisch, Prins), and reports on major chess events (Fischer's abdication, the defections of Korchnoy and Pachman) from a behind-the-scenes perspective. Some are pointed critiques of the politics behind chess, both in Holland and at the international level. Some are social commentary ("Women Cannot Play Chess"), metaphorical musings (why a chess tournament is like sperm seeking to fertilize an ovum), discussions of Greek philosophy ("Seautoscopic Vision"), or arcane metaphysics ("The Bishop Jumps, the Knight Goes"). Some are hilarious humor pieces. Some are rhapsodic celebrations of the joys of chess ("Sweet Little Thing"), others stark, yet blackly humorous recognition of its essentially tragic nature ("Shame"). A great many are polemics, in some cases outright literary dismemberments, directed against Donner's enemies and rivals in the Dutch chess scene. All of these are carried off in a unique style. The normal forms and conventions of chess writing were in Donner's hands altered, transformed, and often gleefully twisted to serve the demands of his highly educated intelligence, sardonic wit, and biting critical insight. The normal run of chess writers most of us are used to (I won't name names; you know who I mean) seem positively drab and insipid compared to Donner the parodist, the satirist, the debunker, the misogynist, the iconoclast, the provocateur, the fulminator. His reportorial style reminds one of the outrageous "gonzo journalism" of Hunter S. Thompson (of "Fear and Loathing" fame), and his polemics are reminiscent of such great scourges of hypocrisy as H. L. Mencken. In short, what we had in Donner was one of the great chess curmudgeons, perhaps the best of that rare ilk since Wilhelm Steinitz. While it is hard to do justice to Donner with short excerpts, some examples from The King will give a better idea of his work than further words from me. Warning: Donner was outspoken, often to the point of brutal frankness. Those sensitive to the tenets of "political correctness" are advised that they read on at their own risk. Women were a frequent Donner target. Some illustrative quotes: "However painful it may be, we must not shrink from the truth: women cannot play chess. ... they cannot paint either, or write, or philosophize. ... the fact [is] that women are much more stupid than men." "The authoress Hanny Michaelis protested against [my] assertion that women cannot write, citing a number of names as evidence to the contrary. What a ghastly list it was! The nastiest hags and frumps that ever wielded a pen!" "Men want to beat you up, but women want to take care of you. Personally I prefer a beating, because there's an end of it." Donner's own people, the Dutch, regularly came in for a share of abuse: "[There is] a conviction deeply rooted in the Netherlands that no Dutchman can ever achieve anything worthwhile ... Euwe was so upset when he became world champion that he got rid of the title as soon as possible." "The theory [of seautoscopic vision] is difficult for the untrained mind to understand, and my attempt must be regarded as a failure due to the gigantic stupidity which keeps the whole of the Dutch- speaking area in an iron grip." On Dutch tournament organizers: "Kind, full of promises and guarantees before the contest but a blank amnesia afterwards that's the way these gentlemen are." However, Donner was an equal-opportunity curmudgeon, and other nationalities were regularly skewered: "Vidmar was a very strong drawing master, whose lily-livered style of chess makes itself felt in the style of his fellow Yugoslavs even nowadays. ... [His countryman Trifunovic] has contributed a few notorious drawing variations to chess theory and obviously holds to the firm belief that winning or losing is an abnormal end to a chess game." Lest the reader conclude that Donner was purely a splenetic despiser, it should be noted that his admiration for Euwe was deep and genuine (a tribute to Euwe upon his death in 1981 is sincere and moving), as it was for several other greats such as Spassky and Korchnoy. And when the woman Nona Gaprindashvili won the 1977 Lone Pine tournament ahead of many male GMs, Donner mock-grudgingly admitted the worth of her achievement: "Even in the world of chess there is at least one woman who rates as a world-class player. For inveterate masculinists and for those who must write jocular pieces to earn a living, this is a serious setback, which will naturally not prevent us in the least ... from continuing our struggle unabatedly." As the above quote shows, Donner was not afraid of writing self- evident absurdities. It is his refusal to take himself too seriously that takes the edge off his misanthropy and changes it from bile to wit. However, one person does receive the full brunt of his unmitigated scorn: the Dutch master Lodewijk Prins, for whose chess play and writing both Donner had nothing but contempt, and about whom he wrote a long series of hilarious hatchet jobs: "[Prins] plays a hideously crooked kind of chess ... If correct play and judgement were what counted ... he would never win a game. ... He hasn't got a clue. He is the worst player in the whole wide world." When Prins managed to win a Dutch championship (held while Donner was away at Havana), Donner wrote "Prins was in his element ... Utter nonsense proved a complete success. ... It is a sad thing that a player of his level must rate officially as the strongest in Holland. ... Ugh." Whereupon Donner challenged Prins to a match: "Dear Lodewijk ... I think you cannot tell a knight from a bishop and I'm prepared to prove it." When Prins was unwilling to play: "Such a blunt refusal I had not thought possible. We now have a chess champion who refuses to play chess." Even in discussing an obscure line of the Gruenfeld, Donner managed to work in a nasty dig: "Many people who know the Prins Variation are glad, deep down, that there is a Prins Variation in journalism as well, although it tends to lie till it is black in the face." However Donner was not perversely stubborn about such opinions in defiance of facts. When he took similar aim at Hans Ree, giving 150-1 odds that he would defeat Ree in a match, and then lost, he publicly retracted his bombast and paid sincere compliments to Ree's play. Compared to most chess books, "The King" is somewhat short on actual games, and certainly is not a "Donner's Greatest Triumphs" vanity project. Though not a world-beater (peak Elo in the low 2500s) Donner was capable of some excellent chess, of which this (Donner-Troianescu, Wageningen, 1957; See Diagram) is the prettiest example: White: Kg1, Qh6, Rd1, Re1, Ba2, Bg5; pawns - a3, b2, f2, g2, h2 Black: Kg8,Qb6, Rc8, Rf8, Nd4, Bb7; pawns - a6, b5, f7, g6, h7 21. Re7!! Qd6 (21. ... Nf5 22. Rxf7 Rxf7 23. Bxf7+ Kxf7 24. Qxh7+ Kf8 25. Rd7) 22. Kh1 (else 22. ... Ne2+) Qc6 23. Rxb7 Nf5 24. Bd5!! Qc2 25. Rc1!! Qe2 26. Bxf7+!!, 1-0 (26. ... Kh8 27. Bf6+). However, Donner was keenly aware of chess's dark side, and its ability to induce madness: "The chess player who has lost his game who will describe him? ... I have heard him calling annihilation upon himself in crude blasphemy ... Derisively, he rejected our words of solace, demanding insults and chastisement. Standing afar and horror-stricken, I have witnessed how he swore to tear out his genitals, because he had played Qb6 instead of Qf6." Rather than any "perfect" game, though, what Donner enjoyed most was a theoretically lost game that (with his opponent's help) he somehow, miraculously, managed to win. He regarded these exhilarating swindles as signs of divine favor. Of one such against Ghitescu at Hoogovens, 1974, he waxed lyrical in mock-biblical style: "An odor of sanctity began spreading through the tournament hall and outside too, as far as the blast furnaces spewing smoke in the distance. A few Reformed brethren, correctly assuming that the *MYSTERIUM TREMENDUM* was present in me then and there, gathered around me and asked me if this overwhelming token of Grace was not a Sign for me to return to the service of the Lord of Hosts. ... He ... of Whom we can only speak obliquely ... is my Friend, the Helper, by Whom I leap over a wall." The above is typical of Donner's idiosyncratic sense of humor, which is the most highly developed, most deliciously ironic, of any chess author I have ever read. I cannot resist two further examples. In 1964 Bobby Fischer published his choices for the top 10 chess players of all time, from which, unsurprisingly, Donner was absent. Donner reacted in hilarious mock bombast and outrage: "He probably has not overlooked me at all. No, he has omitted me on purpose. What is more, I have the distinct impression that he has only given his views in order not to mention me! ... how dare he, the little brat!" And in a parody of a Dutch children's chess classic, "Uncle Jan Teaches his Nephew to Play Chess," he invents a new character, the dissolute Uncle Hein (Donner's own middle name), who tells Jan "What's this? Are you teaching the poor thing to play chess? Fie, for shame! Why not have him drink hard liquor or take him off to a brothel, while you're at it!", followed by a brisk refutation of the combination Uncle Jan was so proudly showing off. Donner's acerbic, often dark wit is perhaps not to everyone's taste, but personally I found myself unable to keep from laughing out loud about every other page, sometimes several times a page. Do not get the impression that "The King" is all humor, though. Donner's journalistic efforts, including analyses of important chess events such as Fischer's abdication of the world title, are detailed, thorough, serious, insightful, and of interest to historians. And while he may have found much to lampoon in the Dutch chess scene, behind his farcical portrayals lay a real anger at the petty obstructions it placed in the path of chess professionals, through a hypocritical devotion to a sham ideal of "amateurism". With bitter sarcasm he remarks "My case happens to be less harrowing than it would have been if I had been totally dependent on the Dutch chess world, but not everyone gets the chance to marry a rich woman." (The sarcasm derives from the fact that Donner's wife actually was not rich.) Donner's controversial left-wing, often pro-Soviet political beliefs are present in "The King," though not stressed. He is shown carrying a sign saying "America Out of Vietnam!" Well, heck, I was doing the same thing at the time, but his reverential tone toward the deluded fanatic Che Guevara will, for anyone to the right of Lenin, cause his gorge to rise. He also expresses admiration for Castro and another Cuban, a General Bayo, who wrote a catechism for guerrilla fighters ("Q: What do we do with traitors? A: Traitors are shot after a short trial."). Donner comments: "It sums up the sort of man that we, in Holland, have not known for centuries." I can just hear most Hollanders thinking "Thank God!" But Donner must be taken as he was, and it would be absurd to judge him by today's decidedly less leftward standards. In any event, "The King" is by no means a political work. Of his stories from Cuba (and there are quite a few, as many tournaments were held there during Donner's time), there are such amusing and fascinating behind-the-scenes accounts as how Fischer's participation via teletype at Havana, 1965, was arranged with the help of large amounts of rum. Also not to be missed is his explanation of Fischer's flop at Buenos Aires, 1960 (it involves GM Larry Evans, a sum of money, and a friendly, well-endowed woman of flexible virtue). Those seeking instruction in opening theory or middlegame strategy will find almost nothing in "The King." Yet this book is more *about chess,* about what chess really is and what it means to be a chessplayer, than anything an "instructive" book could possibly convey. Frankly I think rather than spend the same amount on 3 "instructional" books that you'll probably never really read and which won't raise your rating even 10 points, you'd be better off buying Donner's book and having a good time. Some will no doubt balk at the price. It is admittedly high, but I can assure the reader that he will get his money's worth. The translation, by Richard De Weger, is superb. Footnotes explain references unfamiliar to non-Dutch readers. In addition to the writing, the book itself is extremely fine: handsomely clothbound in dark blue, the paper, print, and diagrams of excellent quality, with one of those delightful old-fashioned built-in ribbon bookmarks as an added grace note. The copy I received is one of a limited edition of only 750, apparently intended for a small audience of connoisseurs. It deserves a much wider readership, but at this time the publisher has no further plans in that direction. As the saying goes, "Act now, supplies are limited." In 1983, Donner suffered a brain hemorrhage that ended his playing career at age 56 ("just in time," he sardonically put it). He continued working, typing with one finger, until shortly before his death. As a final word, one last quote from him seems appropriate. Speaking of a chance sighting of Robert Graves (author of "I, Claudius") he wrote: "Great writers must be dead. Their being alive is no good to us. On the contrary, because they are alive, there is something unfinished about their work. ... they may change their minds or give further explanations, spoiling their work." Donner's work is finished, but I wish it were not. I recommend taking this first and perhaps only opportunity for English-speaking readers to make the acquaintance of an original and singular talent.