You might be more likely to have seen the film, which is a good representation of the book.

I recall that the film got some flack for its representation of Washington Square Park as a den of iniquity, but it seemed spot on to me, having played there around the same time.

That trip I played quite a bit of chess, often outdoors, around Manhattan, and apart from one game in The Village Chess Shop the only time I looked like losing was in Washington Square Park. Sat down and started playing a black guy who was the consummate hustler. I'd never experienced anything like it, only read about it. Yep, I was going to lose, but it was going to be a lot of fun.

Suddenly, however, another black guy came up and asked for table money. I was happy to pay whatever, these guys, whether legitimately or not, as I found out near the world trade centre, never asked for much, so what did I care? But I was completely ignored as these two started a big black dude mother-fucker argument about who owed what to whom. After a while the board was smashed, pieces and clock flying.

I ran for it, quite nervous, I must confess, to another row of tables where people were - laughing at me. I'm not sure if this is the case or not, but when I gathered my wits it seemed like maybe the chess area is segregated and I was in the black part. Maybe somebody who has played there can answer that for me. It seemed like I'd suddenly gone from being surrounded by blacks to surrounded by whites and that the latter found the whole incident highly amusing.

New York. Everybody's a hustler. I played outside near the World Trade Centre on this trip. Somebody asked me to play and said it was usual for the loser to pay the table money, a dollar a game. Fine, I said. After I won maybe the first half a dozen games I decided that was enough. I hung around to see if my opponent handed over money to the guy running the show, but of course he didn't. I think that's what amazes me about America. Not that there's a hustler near by whereever you are, but that they are so penny ante.

There must have been a whole generation of fathers who lived vicariously through their children in that post-Fischer period. Children overburdened with unreasonable expectations. I hope they are all ashamed of themselves now. The fathers, that is.



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Chess has always been a particular passion of mine, which, much like other passions, rises and falls as the years go by. Most games and their inherent competitiveness are fun, but chess remains the most elegant. It has the physical beauty of the pieces, the simplest of rules, yet the potential for incredible complexity, and no dice. I hate dice. Chess requires pure intellect.

During the 70's, following the famous Fischer-Spassky match, the virtual embodiment of Russo-American war, practically every American mother wanted nothing more for her child than to grow up a chess master. Chess even had its cadre of groupies who worked their way up the ranking ladder.

Times have changed. Internationally ranked grand masters now must hustle games in New York's Washington Square Park, having no place to live or eat. Having devoted their lives to chess, they have no marketable skills. Meanwhile, the Russians coddle and nurture anyone showing the slightest hint of talent.

Fred Waitzkin's son Josh was found to be exceptionally talented at age six. By 11, he had fought the current world champion Garry Kasparov to a draw in an exhibition match. Waitzkin writes of his own passion for the game and his relationship with his son, and the impact such intense dedication can have on a child and his family, in a marvelous book entitled Searching for Bobby Fischer: The World of Chess, Observed by the Father of a Child Prodigy . The book is a fascinating account of the chess world, populated with eccentric characters. As one reviewer has said, "chess lives, or windmills its arms, on the outer rims of sanity." The "search" for Fischer becomes an allegory for families and values and the way we determine what is important in our lives. Fischer, even yet a recluse, even though probably "insane" (whatever that means), continues to dominate the American game. The Fischer-Spassky rematch in Yugoslavia may become the non-event of the century.

By the way, the movie was great, too

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This review is for those who have seen the movie. One couldn't have asked for a better author than Mr. Waitzkin, the father of chess prodigy Josh Waitzkin and a sportswriter, to bear witness to the contemporary chess world. All the scenes in the movie are here in the book, in a bit more detail. What was surprising to me is that half of the book, regarding their time in the Soviet Union, was not mentioned the movie. Apparently, Josh, chess coach Bruce Pandolfini, and Fred travelled to the Soviet Union to see the land of the chess masters up close. Mr. Waitzkin's description of the Soviet system is not pretty, but it's not overly aggressive either. He had been something of a closet admirer, apparently, and had his illusions somewhat shattered by what he saw there. There is a very good description of the emphasis that the Soviets placed on chess, and the fact that there is actually a "chess culture" there. ( )

A good fast paced read. I started reading this book thiking it was about Bobby Fischer. I was wrong it is about Josh Waitzkin. If you like the world of chess this book gives you a good inside look. In particular I like the description of the matches in the USSR. ( )

Chess