What Writing 5 Chess Books Has Taught Me
Chess is extremely hard
Chess is so hard in fact, that it’s difficult to explain just how hard it really is. To this day, I’m still baffled by how simple the game appears at face value. Eight pawns and a series of royal pieces tucked along the back rank.
Within just a few moves, however, things can get complicated. Leading down roads of good fortune or complete disaster.
Over the years, one of the things that still strikes me as odd. Is just how much the losses hurt.
“It’s just a game… grow up.”
It’s such an easy phrase to say, until you yourself are defeated. What’s so odd is that no matter how many games I play; psychologically, a loss always carries with it the same feeing of disbelief. Always followed up by a myriad of weak excuses devised to disguise the acute feelings of inadequacy and contempt I hold for both myself and my opponent.
“It was so obvious! How did I miss that?”
Or…
“There’s no way he found that!” I chuckle, “he probably cheated.”
The feeling of doubt remains though… for when I check his account, and look through some of his games. I see 37,000 over the course of 5 years. From this point on, I have to admit that:
“He’s strong, he’s seasoned. There’s no way he — “
I don’t dare to finish the sentence, less I admit that I simply got outplayed. Defeated fair and square, the worst outcome imaginable.
2. Endgames are mysterious
With endgames, there are shadows all over the board. Even if you use a computer to review certain positions, solutions can remain ambiguous, or downright incomprehensible. As the machine will never explain to a player why it recommends a particular move, move order, or line. It will slap you over the head with the table base solution, and vanish into the night.
3. Time is greater than space in pawn endgames
I cannot name the amount of times I’ll be studying an endgame, think I have the solution, try it out, and end up drawing a completely winning position.
It’s astounding how easy it is to misevaluate a position because you didn’t see how moving a rook down one square at a time, instead of three squares all at once, results in a draw, and not a win.
Here’s the puzzle that demonstrates this phenomenon:
White to play and win
4. Applying chess logic to life can result in disaster
Chess in many aspects comes down to precision. A myriad of calculations that end with a predicted event occurring far into the future. In order to do this, a particular mindset must be cultivated. A mentality of which searches endlessly for definitive solutions in a near infinite pool of possible board configurations.
The difference between chess and life, is that 64 squares cannot complete with an incalculable number of ambiguous real life scenarios. Events that require mental facilities beyond pure logic, to both understand and navigate.
Therefore, the naive belief that some players hold that their chess ability can solve any and all of life’s annoying problems, will quickly be disproven by emotional, moral, and social situations. Those pesky areas requiring tacit knowledge. The type that can only be gained through navigating the tumultuous waters of personal experience.
5. Chess is it’s own universe
There’s a book that I read long ago called, “a history of chess” which has a chapter that highlights many examples of people who threw away their lives and careers over chess. Artists, politicians, and intellectuals alike that fell prey to the game of kings.
My personal opinion is that chess is highly addictive. It’s a slow addiction though… something that you aren’t expecting to turn into a problem until it’s too late.
I think this stems from its inherent mystery, history, pedigree, and prestige. Similar to how people perceive getting into an ivy league university, or any other highly esteemed institution.
“If I can understand chess, I’m very smart.”
“If I can get into an Ivy, I’m very smart.”
“If I can get into Goldman Sachs, I’m very smart.”
Something along those lines helps to fuel a persons will power towards excelling at chess.
6. Chess will seek to annihilate your other talents
The game tends to be a black hole in this regard. To a high degree, I think this tends to stem from chess ratings. I personally experience a sort of cognitive dissonance wherein if I’m writing a book of fiction, essays, or anything else that isn’t related to chess. I have this subtle feeling that my rating might suffer the longer I’m away from the board. As a result, I end up gravitating towards hammering out another chess book on the side to alleviate the immense feelings of guilt and stress.
Overtime, I believe a players rating can become tied to their self-esteem and overall sense of self. I think this is mostly because of how brutal and mean spirited the chess community can be to players over performance. For example, Magnus Carlson is the strongest player in the world as of current day. We can sit here and argue that Ding Liren is the current world champion, but… Magnus in reality, is in a league of his own.
Nevertheless, I bring this up because if he ever has a bad tournament. The chess community always arrives in an instant to declare him, “a falling star,” or “a potential has been…”
This results in players experiencing a sort of infinite imposter syndrome over their skill at the game. Leading to a phenomenon wherein both international and grandmasters alike can sit on live TV and declare themselves, “bad a chess,” for missing some obscure underpromotion to a knight in an already impossible endgame.
Global Chess League 2023 — Dubai
Magnus Carlson vs. Viswanathan Anand
Black to play and win
7. Chess is a zero sum game
It isn’t a war in terms of physical violence, but it most definitely is psychologically. This is mainly because it’s a fight over status by means of intellectual domination.
Since intelligence is a direct route to a persons self-esteem. Chess by its very nature, becomes one of the most vicious games on the planet. Meaning that there is no such thing as a “friendly” game to be had between two people. All the niceties and apologies in the world will not prevent one who has been defeated, from holding quiet feelings of resentment towards their newly crowned adversary.
This fight over self-esteem is one of the main reasons the chess community (600 million strong) can become so toxic, so quickly. So toxic in fact, that in the past and even as of present day, entire countries invest billions of dollars into the game. Just to display their intellectual prowess and superiority to rival nations.
Chess in essence, is an overt display of intellectual force, used to submit others in the most public display of humiliation possible outside the games of Shogi, and Go.
8. Quitting the game
I’ve thought about quitting chess for many years now, however, there’s a few reasons why I probably won’t give it up anytime soon. Even though I definitely hate it at this point…
The first is that I’ve devoted so much time to the game that it seems like a waste to give it up. This is called, “the sunk cost fallacy.” Something of which I refuse to accept as a fallacy at all…
The second is that to a very high degree, it keeps me aware of my weaknesses. By this I mean that chess is an iron clad defense against my own arrogance and hubris. For example, for far too long, I’ve seen many examples of baseless arrogance while attending university. Professors, intellectuals, and students alike who roam the campus full of themselves. Overconfident in their own abilities, or simply smug to the point of pretension over their skill in a particular field of study.
For example, I’ve seen writers (undergraduates, MFAs, and English PhDs) who have barely written anything, claim blatantly to my face. That they know more about writing and how authors craft their stories than I do.
Such moments of divine ignorance, leave me in a state of abject stupification. Slack jawed with the muted sound of static filling my head as cognitive dissonance overwhelms my senses.
9. Searching for truth
Chess has taught me more than anything else, that truth is relative. That the world of the absolute, is but a figment of the imagination. That the only constant in life is change. Something of which this strange simulation has forced me to accept, whether I like it or not.
Hello! We’re D.J. Hoskins.
We are Davena and Jason Hoskins, co-authors of 30+ books and siblings who write under the pseudonym D.J. Hoskins. Three years apart and in our twenties, we have been fascinated by stories from a young age. Davena is a student attending Princeton University, and Jason attends Georgetown University.
