ŷ������

“He would cast a single, seemingly cursory glance at the board before each move, looking past us as indifferently as if we ourselves were lifeless wooden pieces.��

This novella is my introduction to Austrian writer Stefan Zweig. He’s not entirely unknown to me, however, as I’ve seen numerous reviews of his work and have been interested in reading him myself for quite some time. It’s important to understand a bit of his background before reading this story. Zweig was born in Austria and then fled to England with his wife in 1935, just prior to the Nazi takeover of his homeland. Five years later he retreated from there to Brazil, only to then commit suicide, along with his wife, in 1942. Chess Story is an allegorical work in addition to being semi-autobiographical as well.

We are introduced to Mirko Czentovic, the world chess champion, on board a passenger steamer bound for Buenos Aires. The date is post World War II. Czentovic’s greatest triumph is his mastery over the chess board, but he cannot claim any other intellectual or artistic talents. It would be easy to liken him to his countryman, Adolf Hitler, and it’s not difficult to guess this is exactly what Zweig had in mind.

“For the instant he stood up from the chessboard, where he was without peer, Czentovic became an irredeemably grotesque, almost comic figure; despite his solemn black suit, his splendid cravat with its somewhat showy pearl stickpin, and his painstakingly manicured fingernails, his behavior and manners remained those of the simple country boy who had once swept out the parson’s room in the village�� Like all headstrong types, Czentovic had no sense of the ridiculous; ever since his triumph in the world tournament, he considered himself the most important man in the world…��

On board the ship there are a few chess enthusiasts, but certainly not one that is a match for Czentovic. This doesn’t stop them from challenging him to a game, which Czentovic agrees to for a price. Not only that, he will play the lot simultaneously. An uneven match perhaps, but not for a man with Czentovic’s extreme arrogance. Now, I’m not a chess player. I’ve never even watched a single game. It doesn’t matter one bit whether or not you are a fan. The gripping psychological suspense begins when a mysterious stranger steps in to join the game. Simply known as Mr. B, we are in the dark about his background until our narrator learns his story and relays it to the reader. If he’s not a chess champion himself, then how did he become so highly accomplished in the art of the game? Has Czentovic finally met a worthy opponent?

“Peaceable, idle passengers though we were, we had suddenly been seized by a wild, ambitious bellicosity, tantalized and aroused by the thought that the palm might be wrested from the champion right here on this ship in the middle of the ocean, a feat that would then be telegraphed around the globe.��

The tension truly ramps up to a frantic pitch as Mr. B’s story is unraveled. I’ll let the next reader discover the details, but it’s a story charged with extreme isolation, mental anguish, and the will to survive and preserve one’s sanity. Mr. B must serve as a self portrait of Zweig himself and the despair he felt at his growing sense of isolation as he was forced to flee further and further from his place of birth. The chess board serves as the battlefields of Europe, where black was pit against white. Fascism and Nazism versus Liberalism and Democracy. It’s a stroke of genius condensed into a short story under the guise of a mental pursuit. I’m even more inclined than ever to continue my exploration of Stefan Zweig.

“But there’s no way to describe, to gauge, to delineate, not for someone else, not for yourself, how long time lasts in dimensionlessness, in timelessness, and you can’t explain to anyone how it eats at you and destroys you…��