102 sportingTRADITIONS VOLUME 22 no 2 MAY 2006

David Edmonds and John Eidinow, Bobby Fischer Goes To War, Faber and Faber, London, pp. xiv + 302, pb, US$24.95. Traditionally, chess was a game played by small coteries of enthusiasts around the globe. With the possible exception ofthe Soviet Union, especially after World War II, chess attracted limited general or popular attention. Its various prestigious tournaments, including the World Championship, conducted by the Federation Internationale des Echeces (FIDE), founded in 1924, struggled to find their way into the backpages of newspapers. Leading players, outside the Soviet Union, where the game and players received state support, earned or received little income from playing. This situation changed dramatically with the playing of the World Championship in Reykjavik, Iceland in 1972. The match was between the champion, Boris Spassky of the Soviet Union, and the American Bobby Fischer. As the title of this book suggests, written more than three decades after this famous, possibly the most famous World Championship in the history of chess, much ofthe interest associated with this tournament was linked to the aura of Bobby Fischer. A child prodigy, Fischer had attracted the attention ofthe chess world. In the qualifying games for the World Championship, he won twenty games in a row; something unheard of in the annals of chess. Would Fischer be able to obtain the World Championship as a formal recognition of his obvious talent? In addition, to a more general audience, the World championship was viewed through a Cold War lens of Soviet bureaucracy versus American individualism. In Bobby Fischer Goes To War, David Edmonds and John Eidinow provide a detailed account of not only the various events associated with this World Championship, the background and personalities ofthe two protagonists, the interactions of the various persons associated with the staging of the contest, but also the operation and workings ofworld chess, especially in the Soviet Union and America. Their book is based on interviews with various persons associated with Reykjavik 1972 (but not Fischer) and an examination of records 'inside the Soviet monolith, White House, State Department and FBI' (p 2). Their ability to piece together the strands of their varied sources, to link the personal histories of both Spassky and Fischer to the broader geo-political forces that were part of their respective orbits, to discuss the nitty-gritty of chess politics, both globally and locally, Iceland's attempt to use chess to enhance its stature and to convey the tension experienced by Spassky and Fischer in the ultimate mind game that is chess, in such a readable and engaging manner, is to be applauded. Edmonds and Eidinow establish that, despite the hyperbole at that time, neither the Kremlin nor the White House viewed this chess tournament in Cold War terms. A thaw had developed in the relations between the two super powers. They had found it easier to reach accord on an increasing Reviews 103

number of matters. The various institutions associated with sport and culture in the Soviet Union were, unsurprisingly, anxious for Spassky to win. While investigations were conducted after his loss he experienced no recriminations. In fact, he was given permission to leave the Soviet Union and live with a new wife in Paris. Henry Kissinger twice rang Fischer to wish him support and Richard Nixonjumped on his bandwagon after his victory. The super powers had bigger fish to fry than to worry about the results of games of chess. All things considered, Reykjavik 1972 was a contest between two individuals. The two could not have been more different in personality and manner if they had tried. Fischer had what can only be described as an unpleasant personality. A difficult child, he discovered chess at age seven and basically 'inhabited' the 64 squares of the chess board for the rest ofhis life. Throughout his career he made incessant and increasing demands about money and the conditions of play — lighting, the table, chairs, the chess board, its size and colours, the timing ofplay, the closeness of the audience and so on. Such behaviour is interpreted as a need to maintain control and, more importantly, as a fear of losing. Prior to the 1972 World Championship, Fischer had perfected the art of not competing in leading tournaments. After his victory in Reykjavik he disappeared into the ether, never competing in another tournament. Spassky, on the other hand, was a more avuncular and easy going person. Whereas Fischer was loathed by most who had anything to do with him, Spassky wanted to and found it easy to make friends. C.J. S. Purdy said that 'Never has the chess world had a champion who was a more complete man and complete gentleman, than Boris Spassky' (C.J. S. Purdy, HowFischer Won: World Chess Championship, 1972, Dwyer, Sydney 1972, p. 17). Edmonds and Eidinow describe Spassky as 'want[ing] to befriend his opponent, to create an atmosphere conducive to weaving creative magic' (p. 70). Fischer was unidimensional; Spassky multidimensional. Spassky managed to maintain his individualism and independence in a bureaucracy wedded to uniformity. Spassky had/has a life apart from chess; Fischer not. After winning the opening game, Spassky was completely flummoxed by Fischer forfeiting game two. The result of the tournament hinged on Spassky making four bad moves, to Fischer's one. As their title suggests, Edmonds and Eidinow tend to bias their account towards Fischer. They find him more intriguing. The squeaky wheel receiving the most oil! In 1972 Fischer realised, or achieved, what was believed to be his destiny. Bobby Fischer's place in chess history, or history more generally, was dependent on the gentleman that is and was Boris Spassky. Fischer had gone to Reykjavik to wage war, Spassky to play, to participate in a 'feast of chess' (p. 273). Fischer's behaviour, prior to, and in the early stages, of the 104 sportingTRADITIONS VOLUME 22 no 2 MAY 2006

tournament, was such, that Spassky could have easily walked away with honour, and maintained his position as world champion. If he had done so Fischer would have lost his place in the sun and been another, in that long list of child prodigies, who never realised their potential. Spassky put up with Fischer's tantrums and demands. He wanted to play. Fischer wanted to win. Having won, Fischer never played again. Boris Spassky saved Bobby Fischer from the obscurity of hiding inside the 64 pieces that comprise a chess board. Braham Dabscheck University of New South Wales