BlackOxford's Reviews > The Queen's Gambit
The Queen's Gambit
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The Tragedy of Success
The Queens Gambit is about professional chess in the same way that David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest is about professional tennis. That is to say, the core of the book is about how we use our talents to destroy ourselves. In this it is sImilar to Stefan Zweig’s Chess Story which, although written three quarters of a century ago, carries the same warning about the same game.
Beth is a chess prodigy. The first impression of her story might be that she is another Billy Eliot or a Mozart, a rerun of talent triumphing over adversity. But Walter Tevis has done something unusual. Although the book is written on the third person, the reader gets to know very little about Beth from the outside. The perspective is that of Beth from the inside - what she, feels, thinks. But what she is to herself is opaque. She, like most of us, has no idea that she is neurotic.
Beth is an Objective Introvert in Jungian terms. That is, she is particularly sensitive to the social environment in which she finds herself; and she tends to adapt herself in a variety of ways to that environment. I think it’s fair to say that Objective Introverts are the permanently oppressed in modern society. In ages past, they might end up in monasteries or as quiet functionaries in a family business. But in a competitive corporate society their lack of aggressiveness and apparent malleability makes them seem weak and unserious, unfit for commercial adventure.
Unless, of course, they have some significant talent that allows them to shine - like playing chess. In that case the talent is perceived - by its possessor as well as the rest of society - as a compensation for an otherwise unfortunate personality. Like the autistic savant who can sketch an entire cityscape from memory, the talent is not only a way to fit in but also a route to fame and fortune. Or so it might seem.
Beth compensates for her psychic imbalance using two strategies: chess and dope. Chess provides a focus from which the constant pressure generated by the the world can be mitigated. The dope dulls what’s left of the world and eases the pressure between matches. Outstanding therapy therefore.
The problem of course, as in any self-help regime, is that the remedy quickly becomes part of the problem. As Beth is successful professionally, chess promotes even greater introversion. And the dope becomes a greater intrusion than the rest of the world had ever been. Together they drive her further into what becomes obsessive addiction.
Beth’s personality is not her problem. What gets her in trouble is her compulsion to ‘fix� her personality. If she could realise that there is no need to do so, she might not be so driven to find competitive success. But she’d probably enjoy chess - and life in general - much more.
The Queens Gambit is about professional chess in the same way that David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest is about professional tennis. That is to say, the core of the book is about how we use our talents to destroy ourselves. In this it is sImilar to Stefan Zweig’s Chess Story which, although written three quarters of a century ago, carries the same warning about the same game.
Beth is a chess prodigy. The first impression of her story might be that she is another Billy Eliot or a Mozart, a rerun of talent triumphing over adversity. But Walter Tevis has done something unusual. Although the book is written on the third person, the reader gets to know very little about Beth from the outside. The perspective is that of Beth from the inside - what she, feels, thinks. But what she is to herself is opaque. She, like most of us, has no idea that she is neurotic.
Beth is an Objective Introvert in Jungian terms. That is, she is particularly sensitive to the social environment in which she finds herself; and she tends to adapt herself in a variety of ways to that environment. I think it’s fair to say that Objective Introverts are the permanently oppressed in modern society. In ages past, they might end up in monasteries or as quiet functionaries in a family business. But in a competitive corporate society their lack of aggressiveness and apparent malleability makes them seem weak and unserious, unfit for commercial adventure.
Unless, of course, they have some significant talent that allows them to shine - like playing chess. In that case the talent is perceived - by its possessor as well as the rest of society - as a compensation for an otherwise unfortunate personality. Like the autistic savant who can sketch an entire cityscape from memory, the talent is not only a way to fit in but also a route to fame and fortune. Or so it might seem.
Beth compensates for her psychic imbalance using two strategies: chess and dope. Chess provides a focus from which the constant pressure generated by the the world can be mitigated. The dope dulls what’s left of the world and eases the pressure between matches. Outstanding therapy therefore.
The problem of course, as in any self-help regime, is that the remedy quickly becomes part of the problem. As Beth is successful professionally, chess promotes even greater introversion. And the dope becomes a greater intrusion than the rest of the world had ever been. Together they drive her further into what becomes obsessive addiction.
Beth’s personality is not her problem. What gets her in trouble is her compulsion to ‘fix� her personality. If she could realise that there is no need to do so, she might not be so driven to find competitive success. But she’d probably enjoy chess - and life in general - much more.
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Blair
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rated it 3 stars
Dec 08, 2020 02:37PM

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Thanks, Blair. I didn’t know about the series until I read some reviews. I’ll have to search it out.
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Terence M - [Quot libros, quam breve tempus!]
(last edited Dec 09, 2020 12:33AM)
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![Terence M - [Quot libros, quam breve tempus!]](https://images.gr-assets.com/users/1712357414p1/6658001.jpg)
Many years ago, when I was taking my first steps in serious acting within a theatre group in which I had a personal/financial interest, one of my fellow actors was Alan Hardy, son of Aussie author, Frank Hardy. A lovely chap, he was a little younger than me, with a smaller role than mine (of course!), and we were both confined to the dressing room during acts II and III, with little to do but wait.
Seeing a chess board, Alan asked if I played chess. I replied 'yes', because I thought I knew how to do so - after all, I had a dozen books on the subject. We played a few games, during which he thrashed me unmercifully, and Alan said, kindly, "you don't know how to play chess, but you do know how the pieces are moved and some of the basics. Would you like me to teach you?", and by way of confirming his own experience, he told me that some time earlier in his life he had been the "Victorian Junior Chess Champion" for about five years.
The play's season was eight weeks, if I remember correctly, and Alan introduced me to serious, competitive chess playing. We played every night and continued two or three times a week after the play finished. Eventually, after an untold number of lessons/games, I finally won, in my own right, my first and only game against him.
I decided to retire from playing such competitive chess with Alan and started playing against my father-in-law, whose playing experience and skill level more-or-less matched my own, (now enhanced by Alan's teaching of course!). We recorded (in chess notation) every game we played and after many hundreds of games, as our own experience and skills improved, I was only one win ahead of him when he died in 1996.
I have ordered the audiobook "The Queen's Gambit" from Audible and I look forward to listening to it. I have no desire, at this time, to watch the Netflix series.

Many years ago, when I was taking my first steps in serious acting within a theatre group in which I had a personal/financial interest, one of my fellow actors wa..."
What a fabulous story Terence. It sounds a great scenario for a play in its own tight. What a terrific and generally relevant distinction between knowing how to play and knowing how to move the pieces. An important life-lesson. Don’t we all need exactly that kind of mentor!? Thanks so much.
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Terence M - [Quot libros, quam breve tempus!]
(last edited Dec 09, 2020 12:31AM)
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Thank you for your very charitable comment, BO! It is very much appreciated! And, yes, a mentor like Alan Hardy, if you are ever lucky enough to find one in life, is pure gold😊.

I just learned about it. I must research where to get it.

(I do sit and look at those books wonderingly though. "If only if only" I delusionally ponder.)

I hear you. Hence my conviction that a mentor is really necessary, at least for most of us.


ðŸ·ß


Sounds dreadful. I’m happy not to have seen before reading.

Don't let a handful of negative appraisals here put you off the show. And fwiw, i honestly do see them as being separate things. Very little was altered for the scripts.

The TV series does present a compelling portrait of a person who's addicted to alcohol and tranquilizers, more so than the book, i think. Her addictions aren't sensationalized, but Anya Taylor-Joy is excellent as Beth and conveys so much with her eyes alone.

I recently watched it. You’re right: it’s faithful to the book and very well produced. The settings were like a stage play. Taylor-Joy was indeed excellent. A fine actress.

This trait could be explained with her childhood trauma and life in an orphanage, though.

You misquote me and then present a theory of the protagonist’s anger, which I didn’t even mention. You clearly want to say something but not to me.