Yesterday afternoon, we watched The Fencer, Klaus Härö's moving reconstruction of what it was like to live in a corner of the Soviet Union under the last years of Stalin's reign. The film does an amazing job of showing you both the terror of knowing you can be picked up at any moment by the secret police and taken to the Gulag, and the unparalleled seriousness and dedication that made the Soviet Union a world leader in science, art and sport. Endel, the hero, is stuck in a third-rate school in rural Estonia with no resources or budget, but he doesn't see why that should stop him from training his young protegés to become master fencers. They want to learn. He owes it to them to give them the best education he can manage. What else would he do?
Today, I finished the last few pages of Mikhail Chetverik's 500 page monograph on Alekhine's Defense and experienced an odd resonance with Härö's movie. The book, I learned on the last page, is based on a book written by Vladimir Bagirov, the Latvian grandmaster who was the greatest exponent ever of this offbeat opening. Bagirov submitted his manuscript to Fizkultura i sport in 1982, but it was never published - why, I don't know. Chetverik, also an Alekhine's devotee, appears to have spent years of his life on the project of reviving and updating Bagirov's magnum opus. He diffidently says that if the book has merit, it is because he has stood on the shoulders of giants. He doesn't want to take credit. He just owed it to the world to make sure Bagirov's work wasn't lost to posterity. What else would he do?
If you like books about chess openings, this is a very good one. Every line is thoroughly presented both from the White and from the Black side; the coverage is equally suitable for people who want to play the Alekhine's themselves and for people who want to be prepared to play against it. But unlike many authors of modern opening books, Chetverik (drawing heavily, I think, from Bagirov), is not content just to list variations. There is a great deal of explanation of strategic principles, tactical tricks, and traps to watch out for; the fundamental ideas emerge clearly from the mass of detail. Chetverik includes many of his own games. Like his hero, he has been playing the Alekhine's all his life.
As Chetverik says, it is indeed a shame that more people don't use this interesting opening. (Note, by the way, that even if it's currently unpopular it's been adopted by players at the level of Fischer, Larsen, Korchnoi and Carlsen). You can play it in many ways: go into hair-raising complications, or angle for quiet lines where you accept a minimal disadvantage and wait for a chance to break out. I'm seriously thinking about trying it out myself. And reading the book has even improved my Russian. What more can you ask for?