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Counterplay: An Anthropologist at the Chessboard
“Chess gets a hold of some people, like a virus or a drug,” writes Robert Desjarlais in this absorbing book. Drawing on his lifelong fascination with the game, Desjarlais guides readers into the world of twenty-first-century chess to help us understand its unique pleasures and challenges, and to advance a new “anthropology of passion.” Immersing us directly in chess’s intricate culture, he interweaves small dramas, closely observed details, illuminating insights, colorful anecdotes, and unforgettable biographical sketches to elucidate the game and to reveal what goes on in the minds of experienced players when they face off over the board. Counterplay offers a compelling take on the intrigues of chess and shows how themes of play, beauty, competition, addiction, fanciful cognition, and intersubjective engagement shape the lives of those who take up this most captivating of games.
- GenresChessAnthropology
266 pages, Hardcover
First published February 5, 2011
8 people are currently reading
76 people want to read
About the author
Robert Desjarlais
12 books5 followersRobert Desjarlais is an award-winning anthropologist and writer teaching at Sarah Lawrence College. His many books include Subject to Death: Life and Loss in a Buddhist World (Chicago, 2016), Counterplay: An Anthropologist at the Chessboard (California, 2011), and Shelter Blues: Sanity and Selfhood Among the Homeless (Penn, 1997).
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Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
April 2, 2017
Some thoughts on this book. Feel free to correct me or discuss it with me.
Like many amateur players of Chinese chess, I began to play chess under my father's instruction at the age of 10. Some of the feelings and findings Desjarlais describes resonate with me (such as full concentration and pure joy) but most do not. But never mind, as I can't envision what to expect from an ethnography of chess, I just want to learn how he gives explanations of the "different possible modes of engagement in the game: serious, studious, reflective, playful, social, solitary." (p.15) The aim of the book Counterplay is to provide an ethnography of passion, to answer why people are so obsessed about chess games. But it turns out to be a diary full of raw materials, and the author seldom jumps out of it to ask why or do some constructive work.
What confused me even more is the feeling the author conveys in the first two chapters. What I understood from the book is not the love for chess, but the ambition and anxiety to prove that chess is the best ever game in the world. Some examples:
It's much deeper and more complex than they think. (p.53)
Could we look into the head of a chess player, we should see there a whole world of feelings, images, ideas, emotion and passion. (p.55)
It's a very good way to show that it's important to work seriously, and to understand that this other guy exists. (p.34)
The calculus continues with each new move, leading mathematicians to conclude that the estimated total number of unique chess games is about 10 powered by 120, which is more than the total number of electrons in the universe. (p.37)
The author just uses these quotations without any analysis, making the readers guess he might be satisfied or even delighted with these praises. In doing this, he himself becomes a lively account of an isolated and self-satisfied chess player.
In the "non-fiction novel" category, this book is just mediocre. Since the author claims it to be an anthropology of passion, maybe we can use his own words to make a comment: it is no more than "a shallow game of note-taking and hat-tipping." (p.6) It is not to say that anthropology, or social science has a stricter evaluation criteria than literature, but it should be more rigorous. When focusing on a small place or a specific event, anthropologists should develop the ability and responsibility to raise more tough questions and try to answer them, instead of hiding in their own tiny kingdom and brazenly seeking justifications.
When I proceeded to chapters 7 and 8, I motivated myself to find something insightful remarks on this new-era. But I failed. All he describes is how desperate chess players are, or how savvy some masters are when they try to make use of computers. What is worse are some scathing condemnations, such as:
They [computers] also do not feel happy when they win or anguished when they lose. They do not blink when their opponents try to psych them out. They are indifferent to the alter-presence of their opponents and to what their caretakers think of them. They have no sense of self, no appreciation for beauty. (p. 173)
These remarks are from the author of this book. And it goes on and on. I would like to ask the author, what is wrong with computers that they deserve such denouncement? Or are you just padding the book with this nonsense nagging?
What I expected to read when I read the chapter names is:
What are the differences between people's ways of thinking and the calculations of computers? Why the huge discrepancy? There must be more reasonable explanations rather than simple intuition versus calculation, or real chess versus turbochess. For example, what I could think of now is that maybe their ultimate goals are different. While the human beings want to pressure opponents and to maximize their winning percentage at every move, the computer just pursues a wafer-thin but certain victory at every move based on its precise calculation. In this way it appears weird.
Since it is related to "paradigm shift", more information on the technology might be necessary. But most of what we read are pure complains, both about the "psychologically complex" tradition and the "computeresque" consciousness.
As the author writes more, his weakness becomes more clear: he immerses himself too deeply in the game, that he never come out of it and ask more intriguing questions. He is just running in a loop for most of time, and the biggest obstacle that prevents him from escaping is precisely his passion for chess. This is really ironic.
Like many amateur players of Chinese chess, I began to play chess under my father's instruction at the age of 10. Some of the feelings and findings Desjarlais describes resonate with me (such as full concentration and pure joy) but most do not. But never mind, as I can't envision what to expect from an ethnography of chess, I just want to learn how he gives explanations of the "different possible modes of engagement in the game: serious, studious, reflective, playful, social, solitary." (p.15) The aim of the book Counterplay is to provide an ethnography of passion, to answer why people are so obsessed about chess games. But it turns out to be a diary full of raw materials, and the author seldom jumps out of it to ask why or do some constructive work.
What confused me even more is the feeling the author conveys in the first two chapters. What I understood from the book is not the love for chess, but the ambition and anxiety to prove that chess is the best ever game in the world. Some examples:
It's much deeper and more complex than they think. (p.53)
Could we look into the head of a chess player, we should see there a whole world of feelings, images, ideas, emotion and passion. (p.55)
It's a very good way to show that it's important to work seriously, and to understand that this other guy exists. (p.34)
The calculus continues with each new move, leading mathematicians to conclude that the estimated total number of unique chess games is about 10 powered by 120, which is more than the total number of electrons in the universe. (p.37)
The author just uses these quotations without any analysis, making the readers guess he might be satisfied or even delighted with these praises. In doing this, he himself becomes a lively account of an isolated and self-satisfied chess player.
In the "non-fiction novel" category, this book is just mediocre. Since the author claims it to be an anthropology of passion, maybe we can use his own words to make a comment: it is no more than "a shallow game of note-taking and hat-tipping." (p.6) It is not to say that anthropology, or social science has a stricter evaluation criteria than literature, but it should be more rigorous. When focusing on a small place or a specific event, anthropologists should develop the ability and responsibility to raise more tough questions and try to answer them, instead of hiding in their own tiny kingdom and brazenly seeking justifications.
When I proceeded to chapters 7 and 8, I motivated myself to find something insightful remarks on this new-era. But I failed. All he describes is how desperate chess players are, or how savvy some masters are when they try to make use of computers. What is worse are some scathing condemnations, such as:
They [computers] also do not feel happy when they win or anguished when they lose. They do not blink when their opponents try to psych them out. They are indifferent to the alter-presence of their opponents and to what their caretakers think of them. They have no sense of self, no appreciation for beauty. (p. 173)
These remarks are from the author of this book. And it goes on and on. I would like to ask the author, what is wrong with computers that they deserve such denouncement? Or are you just padding the book with this nonsense nagging?
What I expected to read when I read the chapter names is:
What are the differences between people's ways of thinking and the calculations of computers? Why the huge discrepancy? There must be more reasonable explanations rather than simple intuition versus calculation, or real chess versus turbochess. For example, what I could think of now is that maybe their ultimate goals are different. While the human beings want to pressure opponents and to maximize their winning percentage at every move, the computer just pursues a wafer-thin but certain victory at every move based on its precise calculation. In this way it appears weird.
Since it is related to "paradigm shift", more information on the technology might be necessary. But most of what we read are pure complains, both about the "psychologically complex" tradition and the "computeresque" consciousness.
As the author writes more, his weakness becomes more clear: he immerses himself too deeply in the game, that he never come out of it and ask more intriguing questions. He is just running in a loop for most of time, and the biggest obstacle that prevents him from escaping is precisely his passion for chess. This is really ironic.
June 20, 2013
Purportedly an anthropological study of the world of chess, the book is really not much more than an endless collection of quotes and anecdotes by and about chess players. There's a sprinkling of academic jargon thrown in for good measure, but it's superficial and feels forced. The one redeeming quality is that the author is a NY guy and a lot of the book covers elements of the NY chess scene that I know and like.
September 29, 2012
Well, it was between "Didn't like it" and "OK."
The book didn't grab me at all, and its a rare book that I don't finish, but this was one.
I may go back to it at one point, perhaps. But for now, other books call.
The book didn't grab me at all, and its a rare book that I don't finish, but this was one.
I may go back to it at one point, perhaps. But for now, other books call.
May 6, 2017
An exciting look at a small part of the competitive chess world. A funny, moving tribute to chess players. Filled with insights extending far beyond chess about our search for fulfilling lives. What a remarkable book.
Read
April 2, 2024I really liked this! A love letter to the absorbing beauty of chess, with what it represents and what it does for the people who play them -- restoring order, reintroducing drama, reinvigorating a sense of growth -- with a confident mixture of autoethnography, interviews, and participant observation that feels lively and energised. I don't think this is meant to be extremely theoretical or academic, necessarily, though it made me re-think some of my own research, particularly through Desjarlais's idea of "blunt intersubjectivity". I loved the style of Desjarlais's writing in particular -- really vivid and full of composed portraits of the interesting people he met. I think it's also unapologetically passionate about chess and I always feel pulled in by people who are so earnestly interested in what they do.
September 6, 2016
I wanted a book that talked about the emotional/mental experience of being a chess player, at various levels. This was the closest I could find, and, while it talked a bit above my head (regarding different strategies and variations), the anthropological side of the topic was very interesting. The author discusses the stresses and pleasures of chess with different players, young & old, newbies & elder statesmen, women & men. Really interesting take on chess.
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews