“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.” – (p.41, “Chess Story” by Stefan Zweig)
I remain to this day, fairly wary of reading the later works of an author on the verge of suicide. I can be pretty impressionable and the thought of entering the depressed mind of another, crafting his last printed words to the page, (during a very depressing present real-time), just seems ill-advised. Like piling on another load of sand into an arid desert that stretches as far as the eye can see. As if encouraging the hairy stigma of vastness to consume us, all the while drying us to our very skeletal beings, we go, “Sure, I have the skill-set for that particularly meaningless job! Hand me the shovel.”
That being said, I decided to read “Chess Story” (1942) by Stefan Zweig after a friend of mine claimed it as his favorite book. I figured a novella about chess and fascism would be up my alley regardless of the ominous historic precedent mentioned above. I mean I really enjoy chess and really hate fascism. So I risked it.
I’m alright, by the way and thank-you for asking.
I like how Zweig makes a point of clarifying that to be masterful at the game of chess does not equate to being intelligent or wise. One could be highly skilled in chess strategy but absolutely moronic when it comes to running a business, or running a country, or even just reading and understanding books. And more importantly, true brilliance can spring from just about anywhere. Think back to that truly beautiful sentiment from the animated movie “Ratatouille.”
“Anyone can cook. But I realize, only now do I truly understand what he meant. Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere.” – Anton Ego
Zweig’s two chess prodigies in his story come from absolutely stark beginnings. Mirko Centovic discovers chess as an introverted orphan with a natural repulsion for education exhibiting zero care for humanity, history, art, music, or anything really. And Dr. B discovers his genius via the trauma of soul crushing imprisoned solitude, extreme repetition and eventual insanity. A less than desired recipe for elevation of the mind, or rather, evolution of chess strategy.
The twisted machinations of genius are on display here. One, efficient and silent, lacking art and a care for beauty. The other a mind driven mad as though the universe itself decided to lay an egg in his brain and let it gestate for a thousand and one nights. One, a cold and calculating presence who desires nothing more than privacy, money and prestige. The other, a leaf on the wind whose intricate patterns have been denatured by the evils of the Gestapo. The latter’s strengths are his weaknesses and the former’s weaknesses snake around to uncover a darker strength.
I won’t spoil the ending by telling you who wins their match-up. I will, however, mention the ease of the chess metaphor in wartime. It’s a game that has stood the test of time and influenced millions. Mirko meteorically rose from the less than everyday man to his notoriety and Dr. B fell from comfort and security with his former royal affiliations to a scattered sense of self. We are in the middle of World War II. The times are changing drastically, with newly introduced weapons of mass destruction and Nazis at the helm. A simple off chance meeting and a game of chess or two later…
Fast forward to the Cold War and an entirely different short story, “All the King’s Men” (1953) by Kurt Vonnegut. An American Colonel and his family survive a crash landing but end up as prisoners of war somewhere on the Asiatic coast by a Communist Guerilla Chief and his Russian ally. The Colonel and his company of sixteen are coerced into playing as live white chess pieces under his command against said Chief’s wooden black pieces. Chess, being a game of war always insists on casualties, ergo, pawns. Or, if you’re a Trekkie, “red shirts” and if you’re more Star Wars, then think stormtroopers. For the Colonel, it’s a lose-lose situation where lives are hopelessly killed off because you cannot win the game without sacrifice. Before Sophie’s Choice there was this gem of a short where hard decisions gave you the option of morally debatable lesser evils. Or of the more familiar, “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.” AND yes, it is hard not to bring Star Trek into this, seeing as how they introduced most of the world to the futuristic 3D chess set.
But back to the main point. If you superimpose a game of chess into reality, you will end up with war, where death is inevitable and power shifts are congruent with bloodshed. Anyone can play chess if you simply learn the basic rules and moves, but to master strategy, is another level. When Dr. B essentially loses his self within the game of chess, he is really just dissolving into deep dark acknowledgment that Fascism not only took his home away but followed him across the globe. To battle everyday invisibly, yet pervasively, such a gargantuan opponent is akin to battling nothingness. What a thing to have to swallow and adapt to. A pill designed only for the other-wordly likes of Galactus or Thanos with his Infinity Gauntlet. The mind must keep its boundaries intact or else lose one’s will to keep at least one foot on the ground. People often ask “Have you lost your mind?” And perhaps the better query is simply, “Have you lost your boundaries?”
I’ll end on another completely morbid quote from something totally different as I am currently re-reading “The Runaways” by Brian K. Vaughan.
Karolina: Xavin, we have a saying on Earth: “One death is a tragedy. A million deaths is a statistic.” *
…
Xavin: I vow to do whatever I can to improve your world.
Karolina: No, only villains try to change the whole world. The rest of us take it one person at a time.
* Yesterday marked the day where on record, over one million people have died due to COVID-19.