Might it have turned out differently? Might a different kind of family situation, or a different kind of guidance as he grew, allowed Bobby Fischer to still be a genius without becoming so twisted? We will never know, of course. There was always "something wrong with" Bobby Fischer, even when he was young and eager. My husband, who is an educator, pronounced "Asperger's" when he heard me talk about this book, and he is probably right. Although the single-minded focus of the young Bobby was not "normal," it was inspiring, and his early successes were thrilling. Bobby was a genius. He had a 180 IQ, a prodigious memory, and remarkable powers of concentration. But he didn't become a champion automatically. He worked at chess all day, every day, playing while he ate (getting peanut butter and spaghetti sauce on his childhood chess set), while he bathed (with a chess set on a plank across the bathtub), and reading chess books far into the night. It is inspiring to think what those of us less gifted might accomplish if we put in the hours. But adult Bobby's rages, rants, and demands drove away all but the most loyal of friends, and even some of those he cut off forever because of imagined slights and betrayals. The subtitle of the book takes Bobby "to the edge of madness," but most people believe he didn't just approach that line, but toppled over. He may not have been schizophrenic, but he was seriously paranoid. He believed the Russians were trying to kill him. He ate at a different restaurant every night, always sat with his back to the wall, wouldn't let anyone know his address. His hate speech against Jews was the raving of a madman. He raved against anyone who didn't give Bobby exactly what Bobby wanted. This included the United States, the World Chess Federation, and eventually, the people of Iceland, who took him in when no other country in the world wanted him. The final picture of Bobby is of an old man sitting alone and reading, hiding from all publicity. His mental dysfunctions deprived him of society, and deprived the world of his gifts. He might have played many more games of remarkable competitive chess, but he was always suspicious and always angry. A sad story.