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Chess College 3: Technique Reviewed by S. Evan Kreider, November 2006
See also Evan's reviews of: Chess College 1: Strategy and Chess College 2: Pawn Play
Right off the bat, I think this volume suffers from the same problem as the earlier volumes in this searies: too many completely diverse topics covered in a single (fairly short) book. However, like the first book, this volume still contains some good material, though I wouldn’t say it has as much good material as the first volume. One thing that the potential buyer should be warned about: a glance at the material in the table of contents clearly shows that Grivas is using the word “technique” differently than many authors. I’d bet most of us think of endgame play when we hear “technique,” but as Grivas explains, he means the word to refer to “certain areas in which knowledge of specific methods, procedures and sequences are especially important, and so can to a degree be considered technical in nature.” That’s a very vague definition at best, and not entirely accurate one for describing the contents of the book. I’m not sure that a subject as subtle and amorphous as bishops against knights or human psychology can be considered technical. Regardless of what he calls it, let’s take a look at it. Frankly, the first three sections (after the intro) don’t do much for me, and should probably have been left out entirely to make room for the rest of the topics. “Why Do We Lose?” tells us to learn from our mistakes, lists a variety of typical mistakes (for example, “momentary blindness,” “theoretical novelty,” “incorrect handling of defense,” etc.), but doesn’t tell us how to go about actually correcting these mistakes. Not surprising, considering he spends only one page on this topic. “Physical and Psychological Factors” again gives us a couple of lists, one of “innate chess assets” (“self-control,” “obedience of will,” “proper distribution of attention,” etc.) and one of “attainable chess assets” (“good health condition,” “strong nerves,” “control of emotional urges,” etc.). I’ll ignore the huge assumptions Grivas is making about which of these are actually innate or attainable, and again point out that, other than listing them, he doesn’t really have too much to say about what we can actually do about them, other than some very vague and obvious advice to exercise and get enough sleep. Again, this isn’t too surprising given how little space (slightly over one and a half pages) is devoted to it. The “Literature” section actually made me laugh out loud. Grivas is at least honest in telling us that his recommendations for chess books are subjective, but it seems to me worse than that – this guy just doesn’t have the foggiest idea what sort of books the average club player could really use. For example, for opening books, he recommends only the five volume Encyclopedia of Chess Openings and Informator’s Opening Monographs! Frankly, these works are of little to no value for most anyone under master level – most of us mere mortals would get a lot more out of something like Sam Collins’ Understanding the Chess Openings, maybe supplemented by NCO or MCO, plus a few Starting Out books on the particular openings we want to play. Grivas commits similar errors with other works, such as recommending Fine’s Basic Chess Endings as “a good first choice” of endgame books, when most of us would be better off starting with something by Pandolfini, Silman, or Alburt. So what’s up, Grivas? He gives the answer himself: “Naturally, all the above are my personal preferences. It is these books that I was taught from and that I use myself to teach.” Well, that’s the problem – he – and I suspect his students – are probably light-years beyond the average consumer of chess books (such as his audience for these books!) in chess ability and aspirations. A good chunk of the book is dedicated to minor piece issues, as we see in the sections on “The Bishop-Pair,” “Bishop against Knight,” and “Knight against Bishop,” and “Opposite-Coloured Bishops.” This is all very standard fare. It’s perfectly decent material, but nothing new. Grivas tells us the typical things: that bishops tend to be better than knights in open positions with play on both sides of the board, that opposite-coloured bishops can be draw-ish in the endgame but not necessarily in the middlegame, etc. The examples are quite good, but fairly sophisticated, so like with earlier volumes in this series, less experienced players might want to read more novice-friendly works on similar subjects by authors like Silman. For more experienced players who would like to see these imbalances (as Silman calls them) in action in more sophisticated play, these sections are definitely worth reading. The sections on “Classical Bishop Sacrifice” and the “Double Bishop Sacrifice” are strangely placed in this volume – it’s not at all clear to me why they aren’t in volume one with the chapters on attacking the king, since that’s when they most often occur. One weird thing about the classical bishop sacrifice section is that Grivas warns us that acceptance of the sacrifice isn’t always necessary, and that we should be prepared for the possibility that our opponent will reject the sacrifice, but the only game in which he shows this happening involves the opponent incorrectly rejecting the sacrifice. I would have like to have seen a decent handful of examples demonstrating when rejecting the sacrifice is the right thing to do, and how both sides should deal with it. The “Immobilization” section focuses on immobilizing pawns, and as such ought to have appeared in volume two (Chess College: Pawn Play). So, like the two sections I just mentioned, this section leaves one a bit puzzled about the organization of the whole trilogy. That leaves us with “Won Positions” and “Lost Positions.” These are topics that aren’t covered as often as most others, so I was definitely interested to see what Grivas had to say about them. In the sections on won positions, Grivas identifies four important factors (or “golden rules” as he puts it, though he doesn’t actually state them in the form of rules): stabilization of the advantage, restriction of the opponent’s counterplay, avoidance of pointless complications, and psychological factors. Grivas then gives us five annotated games to illustrate these factors – or at least, that’s the idea. The annotations to the games are so specific to the games and the moves played within them that there isn’t often much in the way of clear references to which of the four rules is relevant. For example, in the first game of the section, after 1.d4 Nf6 2.Nf3 e6 3.Bg5 Be7 4.e3 b6 5.Bd3 Bb7 6.0–0 Ne4 7.Bxe7 Qxe7 8.Nfd2 d5 9.Nxe4 dxe4 10.Bb5+ Nd7 11.a4 c6 12.Be2 e5 13.a5 Nf6 14.axb6 axb6 15.Rxa8+ Bxa8 16.Na3 0–0 17.dxe5 Qxe5 18.Nc4 Qc7 19.Qd6 Qxd6 20.Nxd6 Rd8 21.Ra1 Kf8 [diagram]
Grivas goes on to characterize several of the following moves as mistakes, but without telling us exactly what kind of a mistake each was. Was it a matter of entering unnecessary complications? Or not restricting enemy counterplay? Or something else? Without specific guidance through concrete examples, it’s difficult to see how these golden rules could actually help anyone. That’s not to say the games never mention the rules, or something like them (for example, he occasionally suggests that someone played a poor move for psychological reasons), but much more often that not, they don’t. The section on lost positions is a bit better, primarily because the advice is much simpler: when you’re losing, make it as difficult for your opponent as possible! He also points out that it is easier to play lost positions than won positions, since you don’t have anything to lose. The five games that follow provide good examples of lost positions that were turned into draws or wins simply by continuing to play and to present the opponent with as many difficulties as possible. However, like the “Won position” section, he’s not terribly forthcoming about why and how White let the win slip through his fingers, except to occasionally suggest that White simply overlooked something or became prematurely complacent. Of the three volumes, this one is definitely my least favorite. It’s scattered, several sections probably belong in one of the two other volumes, and the first several sections feel like padding. Though I can definitely recommend volume 2, and volume 1 is decent enough, I probably wouldn’t recommend this volume unless you’re the sort of person who feels compelled to own all three books in a trilogy out of a sense of completeness. Otherwise, your money is probably better spent on something else.
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