One thing which has rapidly risen to the top of my things-to-do list in recent weeks is familiarising myself with the basics of psychoanalysis. Why? Because it is becoming increasingly clear that the key to understanding Austrian literature is having a passing knowledge of the theories of a certain Sigmund Freud. Arthur Schnitzler, a contemporary of the good doctor, is certainly fascinated by his characters' thought processes, and Alois Hotschnig's short-story collection, Die Kinder beruhigte das nicht, could also be seen in this light. It was no surprise then to find that my third Austrian writer of the month was himself no stranger to egos, super-egos and ids ;)
*****
Stefan Zweig is a writer that I had never heard of at the start of this year. However, his books seem to have been everywhere recently (among the blogs I frequent anyway), and I have been very keen to sample his work for a while now. Luckily, I won a copy of Schachnovelle (Chess) recently, allowing me to have a little taste of Zweig's style. It's a style that I could become extremely fond of...On a passenger ship travelling from New York to Buenos Aires, an Austrian, the novel's narrator, becomes fascinated by a fellow passenger, the current world chess champion. Determined to make his acquaintance, our friend lures him into playing a game against some of the passengers. Of course, Czentovic, a Hungarian prodigy, casually defeats the group in the first game, but in the second game, some assistance from a casual passer-by helps the group to obtain a draw. And it's here that the game really begins...
Alas, I simply don't have the time, energy or willpower to give this book the treatment it deserves. Schachnovelle is simply brilliant. In its contrast of the two chess geniuses, the dogmatic, automaton-like Czentovic, and the self-taught, half-crazed Dr. B, Zweig not only symbolises the eternal clash of art and science, but also lays bare the events of Hitler's annexation (Anschluß) of Austria - I kid you not.
The middle part of the book is a story within a story, in which Dr. B, who hasn't actually picked up a chess piece for twenty years, explains how he developed his incredible chess ability. It's closely connected with Austria's subsumption into the Third Reich, and as a study of the horrors of nothingness, it is without parallel. Let's just say that it is possible to be bored out of your mind...
So when the good Doctor, a man who struggles to connect the wooden pieces in front of him to the abstract notions in his head, sits across the board from the self-taught idiot savant, unique among chess Grand-masters in being unable to play a game without actually seeing the board, it is more than just a friendly game to pass the time - ideologies and psychologies come face to face (and don't much like what they see).
As the game progresses, it becomes clear that Dr. B is more than a match for the world champion when it comes to pure chess ability. But is that all you need to make it to the top? Or is animal cunning, a thick hide and a lot of patience actually more important in the long run? Who will come out on top? I won't tell you that, but the big match is certainly an absorbing contest to watch.
The middle part of the book is a story within a story, in which Dr. B, who hasn't actually picked up a chess piece for twenty years, explains how he developed his incredible chess ability. It's closely connected with Austria's subsumption into the Third Reich, and as a study of the horrors of nothingness, it is without parallel. Let's just say that it is possible to be bored out of your mind...
So when the good Doctor, a man who struggles to connect the wooden pieces in front of him to the abstract notions in his head, sits across the board from the self-taught idiot savant, unique among chess Grand-masters in being unable to play a game without actually seeing the board, it is more than just a friendly game to pass the time - ideologies and psychologies come face to face (and don't much like what they see).
As the game progresses, it becomes clear that Dr. B is more than a match for the world champion when it comes to pure chess ability. But is that all you need to make it to the top? Or is animal cunning, a thick hide and a lot of patience actually more important in the long run? Who will come out on top? I won't tell you that, but the big match is certainly an absorbing contest to watch.
And that's not all Schachnovelle has to offer. I could easily have written more about the narrator himself, obsessed with getting into Czentovic's mind; or about McConnor, the aggressive Scots millionaire, a man who can't take no for an answer (and definitely doesn't like losing). In fact, while it may seem that our two protagonists are addicted to chess, they are not the only ones with a bit of a problem...
I read this twice, about ten days apart. Both times I intended to spread my reading out over two nights; both times I rushed through it in a single evening. While I would love to go into a deep, psychological analysis of the book, in truth that really is as much about Schachnovelle as you need to know...
