Review by New York Times Review
IN the summer of 1972, the world's attention was directed toward Reykjavik, the capital of Iceland, to watch a championship chess match. Called "the Match of the Century," the contest between the Russian champion, Boris Spassky, and the American challenger, Bobby Fischer, attracted that attention because of its cold war implications. But people were also fascinated by the mercurial Fischer - a prototypical genius whose incessant demands and unpredictability were more associated with the behavior of a diva than with what one expects from a master of a demanding game of logic. Fischer won the match in brilliant style, setting off a wave of enthusiasm for the game, particularly in the United States. It seemed that a new age of chess, with a handsome, charismatic champion, had dawned. The euphoria quickly dissipated, however, as Fischer retreated into a self-imposed exile, spurning multimillion-dollar offers to play other matches and to endorse products. When he emerged for a rematch against Spassky 20 years later, spewing anti-American and anti-Semitic invective, the remaining milk of good will rapidly soured into disgust. What happened? Why had such a promising talent veered so far off the path of fame and fortune? Frank Brady tries to answer that question in his new book, "Endgame." It traces Fischer's life from his childhood in Brooklyn to his death in Iceland, the country that made him famous, in 2008. Brady is in a unique position to write about Fischer, having published the first biography of him in 1965 ("Profile of a Prodigy: The Life and Games of Bobby Fischer"), when Fischer was on his rise to the world title. At the time, Brady was a friend and confidant of Fischer's, and he could offer insights few others had. Though Brady mentioned Fischer's petulant outbursts in that book, he was, like many other American chess players and admirers, willing to overlook such conduct, ascribing it mostly to the character traits of an "artist." The intervening years, during which Fischer's behavior became more and more erratic, have forced Brady to reassess his perceptions, but not entirely. In an author's note to "Endgame," he writes, "We may not - and perhaps should not - forgive Bobby Fischer's twisted political and antireligious assaults, but we should never forget his sheer brilliance on the chessboard." In undertaking this biography, Brady notes, he had access to new materials, including files from the F.B.I. and the K.G.B. (which identified Fischer as a threat to Soviet chess hegemony in the mid-1950s); the personal archives of Fischer's mother, Regina, and his mentor and coach, Jack Collins; and even an autobiographical essay written by the teenage Fischer. The wealth of material allows Brady to describe many rich moments and details. When the 16-year-old Fischer was feeling down at the 1959 Candidates Tournament in Yugoslavia, which would select a challenger for the world championship, he perked up after comparing himself to a character in "Alice in Wonderland." "The Red Queen cried before she got a piece of dirt in her eye," Fischer wrote. "I am in a good mood before I win all of my games." In 1992, living in squalor and anonymity in Los Angeles, he was coaxed out of retirement by a letter from a 17-year-old Hungarian girl that began: "I would like to sell you the world's best vacuum cleaner! Now that I have your interest, turn the page." Brady is best when relating such anecdotes, but stumbles at times. He occasionally loses the thread of the narrative, particularly during some of the tournaments and matches. Since there is no record of Fischer's chess career in the book, it is almost impossible to follow what happened. Also, many sections feel like short essays stitched together. At several points, rather than rehashing events, Brady bows out, in effect telling readers to seek information elsewhere. On the negotiations for a 1975 world championship match with Anatoly Karpov, which ultimately collapsed and led Fischer to resign the title, Brady writes, "The story of the machinations employed to enable the Fischer-Karpov world championship match to take piace are enough to fill a separate book - and have! - but the details are hardly dramatic in retrospect." The real purpose of this book, though, is to get underneath Fischer's skin and try to explain the roots of his aberrant behavior. In this, Brady is partly successful. Regina Fischer was Jewish, but not an observant Jew. Though Bobby's birth certificate listed Hans Gerhardt Fischer as his father, it seems more likely that Paul Nemenyi, a Hungarian Jewish physicist, was his biological father. Despite being Jewish, Fischer was not brought up so. In fact, for much of his childhood, he was left to his own devices. In this environment, Brady writes, Fischer became interested in the Radio Church of God (later the Worldwide Church of God) while listening to broadcasts in the '50s by Herbert W. Armstrong, the church's founder. Armstrong promoted a strict, minimalist doctrine that included observing the Sabbath. It appealed to Fischer's desire for logic and order and eventually formed the foundation of his own views. The hold that this exposure to religion had on Fischer is apparent in one of the most startling moments in the book. Brady recounts how for years Fischer carried a blue cardboard box with him wherever he went, but would never say what was in it. One day, at a restaurant, Fischer went to the men's room, and his companion - it seems to have been Brady, though he does not say - slid the cover off to find not a chess book or chess-related paraphernalia, but a gold-embossed copy of the Bible. In later years, as Fischer grew apart from the church, especially after he won the title and the church started to siphon off some of his winnings, he began reading ever more virulent writings, including, most tellingly, "The Protocols of the Elders of Zion." Brady has set himself an impossible task: explaining behavior that is, at its core, irrational. And the author is not a psychiatrist. In the end, the book throws light on Fischer's motivations, but it cannot fully explain them. Brady has written other biographies, including one about Barbra Streisand, who attended Erasmus Hall High School at the same time Fischer did and had a bit of a crush on him. But Fischer has been Brady's greatest obsession. He was awe-struck by Fischer's ability at a game Brady loved, but he was also horrified and disgusted by his actions and words away from the chessboard. Brady, borrowing a line used to describe Paul Morphy, America's other great chess champion, has often called Fischer the pride and the sorrow of chess. After reading "Endgame," you understand why that description perfectly fits Brady's feelings about his subject. Fischer attended the same Brooklyn high school as Barbra Streisand, who had a bit of a crush on him. Dylan Loeb McClain is the chess columnist for The Times.
Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [February 13, 2011]
Review by Booklist Review
Brady's insightful biography of the legendary chess player focuses more on Fischer's life as a chess champion than on his much-publicized legal troubles and alleged psychological breakdowns. Brady first became friends with Fischer at a chess tournament when they were both children, and he combines a traditional biography with a personal memoir. Fischer began playing chess at age six and was soon playing games by himself, unable to find worthy competition. He seems to have had a lifelong battle with himself, and his biggest challenge may have been conquering not his competitors but his own intellect. Brady is uniquely qualified to write this book. Not only is he a seasoned biographer and someone who knew Fischer on a personal level; he's also an accomplished chess player himself, able to convey the game's intricacies to the reader in a clear, uncomplicated manner. The book should appeal to a broad audience, from hard-core chess fans to casual players to those who are simply interested in what is a compelling personal story.--Pitt, David Copyright 2010 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
The Mozart of the chessboard is inseparable from the monster of paranoid egotism in this fascinating biography. Brady (Citizen Welles), founding publisher of Chess Life magazine and a friend of Fischer, gives a richly detailed account of the impoverished Brooklyn wunderkind's sensational opening-he was history's first 15-year-old grandmaster-and the 1972 match with Boris Spassky, in which Fischer captivated the world with his brilliant play and towering tantrums. Brady's chronicle of Fischer's graceless endgame is just as engrossing, as the chess superstar sinks into poverty after rejecting million-dollar matches; flirts with cults; and becomes, though himself Jewish, a raving anti-Semite and conspiracy theorist. Brady offers an insightful study of Fischer's obsessively honed gifts-his evocative description of the 13-year-old prodigy's legendary "Game of the Century," with its seemingly suicidal queen sacrifice, will stir even nonadepts-and a clear-eyed, slightly appalled portrait of his growing paranoia. One senses a connection: the pattern-seeking faculties that could discern distant, obscure checkmates went berserk when trained on the chaos of everyday existence, finding in every reversal not random misfortune but the subtle moves of hidden opponents. Brady gives us a vivid, tragic narrative of a life that became a chess game. Photos. (Feb. 1) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Library Journal Review
A biography by Brady (communications, Saint John's Univ.) on chess icon Bobby Fischer might seem familiar because Brady wrote the best-selling Profile of a Prodigy: The Life and Games of Bobby Fischer in 1965 (with an update in 1973). A chess aficionado himself, Brady first met Fischer in 1953 when Fischer was a 10-year-old chess prodigy. Profile details Fischer's youth and World Championship match with Boris Spassky. Here Brady aims to decipher Fischer's entire life, both the ascent and the descent, and draws on new information from family archives, FBI files, and personal correspondence. With less chess game analysis, more biography, and some speculative narrative, this book is clearly aimed at a more general audience. Probably still the world's most famous chess genius, Fischer also had a reputation for being difficult, arrogant, and rude and in later life anti-Semitic and anti-American. -VERDICT Brady strives to decipher Bobby Fischer in a sometimes novelistic style that makes the book readable, if problematic to purists. Recommended not just for chess enthusiasts but for anyone interested in the compelling life of a complex, enigmatic American icon.-Leslie Lewis, Duquesne Univ. Lib., Pittsburgh (c) Copyright 2011. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Kirkus Book Review
The teenage prodigy, the eccentric champion, the irascible anti-Semite, the genius, the pathetic paranoidthese and other Bobby Fischers strut and fret their hour upon celebrity's stage.Chess Life founding publisher Brady (Communications/St. John's Univ.; The Publisher, 2000, etc.), who knew his subject welland wrote about him in Bobby Fischer: Profile of a Prodigy (1965)is generous, but never to a fault, with Robert James Fischer, who died in 2008 at 64. The author begins with Fischer's 2004 arrest and incarceration in Tokyo (an event to which he returns toward the end of the book), then segues to Fischer's background, specifically the story of his Swiss mother, who married a man in Moscow while she was working on her medical degree. When he was six, Fischer received his first chess set from his sister. A ferocious autodidact, he taught himself the game, read every chess publication he could and rose spectacularly, if erratically, through the chess ranks. He tolerated school only for a while (Barbara Streisand was a high-school classmate) and won his first United States championship at 14. Brady, who was present in Reykjavk for the 1972 World Championship match between Fisher and Boris Spassky, writes compassionately about Fischer's bizarre behavior and demands then (he very nearly withdrew from the competition), but the author's allegiance to his subject weakens thereafter. Fischer became increasingly paranoid and isolated in the ensuing decades, descending into mad theories and openly embracing ludicrous notions (Holocaust denial, for example). He gave numerous bizarre radio interviews, including one on the heels of 9/11 that is a classic of crudity. After his release from the Japanese jail, no one really wanted him. He lived in Iceland, then soured on it, alienating, as was his lifelong wont, a source of refuge.Informed, thorough, sympathetic and surpassingly sad.]] Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Review by New York Times Review
Review by Booklist Review
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
Review by Library Journal Review
Review by Kirkus Book Review
