| Title | : | The Luzhin Defense |
| Author | : | |
| Rating | : | |
| ISBN | : | 0679727221 |
| ISBN-10 | : | 9780679727224 |
| Language | : | English |
| Format Type | : | Paperback |
| Number of Pages | : | 256 |
| Publication | : | First published January 1, 1929 |
| Awards | : | National Book Award Fiction (1965) |
The Luzhin Defense Reviews
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Niestety strasznie mnie meczy styl pisania i nic nie rozumiem. Jest dziwnie i wręcz groteskowo
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It’s Never Too Late for a Happy Childhood
A boy who doesn’t want to grow up; a mother who loses interest in him as he does; a father who writes an idealised version of the boy’s life in which he doesn’t; and an agent who values only his client’s youthfulness: clearly not the best conditions for psychic maturation; but hardly signs of abuse.
The boy finds his solace and calling in the game of chess: “everything apart from chess was an enchanting dream... Real life, chess life, was orderly, clear cut, and rich in adventure.” In this life he was safe and secure as well as internationally famous.
The death of the boy’s father, in some sense a sign of forced adulthood, is resisted. The boy won’t attend the funeral. Instead he falls in love, with a woman who possesses that“mysterious ability in her soul to apprehend in life only that which had attracted and tormented her in childhood... to find constantly an intolerable and tender pity for the creature whose life is helpless and unhappy...”
A perfect match, therefore: she a compulsive caretaker; he the eternal child. Whether either or both is psychotic or merely neurotic when they meet is an open question.
What could possibly go wrong?
Marriage brings with it a new adult provider, the father-in-law, and a new tender carer in his wife. But it also brings something unfortunate, the recognition of the “full horror of the abysmal depths of chess.”
He has a breakdown. His wife and his doctor begin to explore his “dark period of spiritual blindness,” that is, his childhood. But it is clear to the reader that his condition is not the result of childhood trauma. Rather it is his desire to remain in a re-created childhood, free from the cares and sufferings of life outside of chess, and his fear of being removed from it, that is the cause of his distress.
Part of his therapy is complete isolation from chess. The wife knows it was necessary to find “some other interesting game.” But socialising, travel, typing, water-colouring can’t fill the chess-shaped hole in his soul. The result, of course, is that his highly functional life playing chess becomes a psychotic disaster in which he can no longer distinguish his life from the game that gave it meaning and coherence.
It’s often possible to detect who’s being helped through analysis by the haunted look in their eyes. Thank you Dr. Freud. -
The combination of Chess and Nabokov seemed to me a match made in heaven, a big fan of both, this was just too tempting to turn down, even though I knew it would take something pretty remarkable to reach the heights of either 'Pale Fire' or 'Lolita', I still felt like reading what is one of his earlier Russian novels (his third written in 1930) before he embarked on his American odyssey.
The Luzhin Defence is a book that does features chess, but doesn't delve too deeply into the actual playing of the game, so anyone clueless on the subject will rarely have to scratch their heads in uncertainty, it's main focus is the life of Luzhin himself, from his childhood in St Petersburg and learning the game with his Aunt, to becoming a shambling grand Grand Master who arrives in the Italian Lakes to play the Italian whizz Turati, and sets in motion events that unexpectedly had him finding the love of his life. The novel opens with a sense of nostalgia, with memory-misted scenes of Luzhin's boy-hood in Russia and his first initiation into the "game of the Gods" for which he is seen to have a prodigious and natural talent. Miserably alone, with little friends, and parents who both feel estranged and unemotional (Luzhin's father is a writer of boy's adventure stories but seems more dead than living) the boy would take to chess and give him that spark that had been missing from his life. The kid pushed around at school, would grow-up to become a maestro.
His passion for chess is almost one of obsession, an awkward figure he becomes, and is completely isolated in his opaque, imaginary world of configurations where he alone is sovereign as kings and queens and pawns are in eternal motion across his private field of vision. You get the impression the outside world and other people are of little significance. Nabokov rushes us from the early days, and the subterfuge he has to undertake to play the game, and we find Luzhin again in a post-revolutionary Europe, a ridiculous figure, his Grand Master status on the wane as other younger players get to grips with his own techniques for winning. During a stay in a health-spa Luzhin meets a Russian woman, herself an émigré from the revolution living in Berlin, and before long want her to be his wife, all to the annoyance of her parents, who want none of it. Their awkward courtship, where Luzhin asks for her hand has the air of a drowning man rather than a suitor.
And his beloved game would start to suffer, leading to big cracks appearing in his sturdy mind.
Reading Nabokov, any Nabokov, there is a 99% chance it's going to be worth it, this splendid novel was a delight, and even though it doesn't go all out in terms of plot or story, there are early signs here that the masterful narrative that showed up in his American novels was starting to emerge.
This had some wonderful sentencing, that was simply breathtaking, a joy to behold!
The Luzhin Defence can also be seen as a simple biography of a dull man, similar in some ways to that of John Williams' 'Stoner', but that conventionality only goes so far with Nabokov of course. In other ways, the life story is an extended metaphor, a game of chess within itself.
Nabokov is quite rightly regarded as one of the greatest writers to have graced this earth, so comparing this to most other books I have read, it would get top marks, but then I have to take into account both 'Pale Fire' and 'Lolita', for me, novels just don't come much better, The Luzhin Defence simply wasn't as good, but then that's no disgrace at all. A solid four stars. Thanks Vlad. -
The Luzhin Defense, Vladimir Nabokov
The Luzhin Defense is the third novel written by Vladimir Nabokov during his emigration to Berlin, published in 1930. The plot concerns the title character, Aleksandr Ivanovich Luzhin.
As a boy, he is considered unattractive, withdrawn, and an object of ridicule by his classmates. One day, when a guest comes to his father's party, he is asked whether he knows how to play chess.
This encounter serves as his motivation to pick up chess. He skips school and visits his aunt's house to learn the basics. He quickly becomes a great player, enrolling in local competitions and rising in rank as a chess player.
His talent is prodigious and he attains the level of a Grandmaster in less than ten years. For many years, he remains one of the top chess players in the world, but fails to become a world champion. ...
تاریخ نخستین خوانش: روز نخست ماه آگوست سال 2006 میلادی
عنوان: دفاع لوژین؛ نویسنده: ولادیمیر ناباکف؛ مترجم: رضا رضایی؛ تهران، کارنامه، 1384؛ در 334ص؛ شابک 9644310519؛ چاپ دوم 1393؛ در 342ص؛ موضوع داستانهای نویسندگان روسیه - سده 20م
این رمان راجع به شخصیت خیالی لوژین (با نام کامل آلکساندر ایوانوویچ) استاد روس تبار شطرنج است، که در چهارده فصل روایت میشود؛ بخش عمدهٔ داستان، ماجراهای زندگی او در سی سالگی را روایت میکند، و چند فصل ابتدایی نیز به کودکی او میپردازد.؛
تاریخ بهنگام رسانی 13/05/1399هجری خورشیدی؛ ا. شربیانی -
One of the things I like most about Nabokov’s novels is the structure, and this one has a particularly interesting structure.
At the beginning of chapter nine which is roughly half way through the book, two new characters appear out of nowhere, two young Berliners who are trying to return home after a hard night on the town. Both of them continued farther along the deserted night street, which alternately rose up smoothly to the stars and then sloped down again.
That deserted night street could represent the novel itself; it also rises up soberly towards the mid point and then lurches unsteadily towards the end. And it's quite a drunken lurching, weaving this way and that, holding onto anything it can grab, especially any props still lying about from the first half of the book: the woodprint of a child prodigy in a nightgown, the wheezy governess in the wheezy elevator, the father’s typewriter, the mother’s cousin, the forgotten friend from school, the family doctor, the beloved treasure buried under a tree.
With the help of all the props, the struggling novel finishes up in the end exactly where it left off in chapter eight just before the night street began to lurch: flatter and flatter like the flattened cardboard pieces of a pocket cardboard chess set.
I liked that twisted symmetry.
Anything else I might have been tempted to comment on, such as the plot, or the themes, or the characters, or the embedded chess game, or the autobiographical elements, were off limits because the author has commented on it all himself in the preface. Nabokov tells us in very certain terms that he wants to spare the time and effort of hack reviewers. So I’ve taken him at his word and skipped all such sleuthing. He didn’t mention the parallels between the end of chapter eight and the end of the book however - which fortunately left me something to say in this tenth and final Nabokov review.
Thank you, Mr Nabokov, and goodnight. -
If you are a chessplayer, like me, you simply have to read this book. No one else has even come close to describing chess obsession from the inside. The style is, needless to say, impeccable. -
Δεν ξέρω από που να αρχίσω με το συγκεκριμένο βιβλίο!! Από την εξαίσια γραφή και γλώσσα του Ναμπόκοφ, από τις πολυεπίπεδες αναλύσεις ή από τους ιδιαίτερους χαρακτήρες που πλαισιώνουν τον νεαρό Λούζιν;;; Μάλλον όλα τα παραπάνω συνθέτουν ένα αριστούργημα της παγκόσμιας λογοτεχνίας το οποίο φίλοι και μη του σκακιού πρέπει να το διαβάσουν....
Ο Λούζιν είναι είναι ένα παιδί με κάποιο σύνδρομό ή κάποια ψυχολογική διαταραχή, του οποίου όλη η ζωή περιστρέφεται γύρω από το σκάκι. Δεν μπορεί να ενταχθεί στο σύνολο, από τα παιδικά του χρόνια κιόλας και βρίσκει καταφύγιο στα 64 τετράγωνα του πανάρχαιου παιχνιδιού. Στην προσπάθεια του να αναδειχθεί παγκόσμιος πρωταθλήτης δέχεται ένα ισχυρό σοκ με αποτέλεσμα να επέλθει κατάρρευση και αποσύνδεση από την πραγματικότητα.
Μέσα απο τις προσπάθειες της συζύγου του να επανέλθει ο Λούζιν καταλαβαίνει πως η ίδια του η ζωή είναι μια παρτίδα σκάκι την οποία είτε πρέπει να κερδίσει είτε να παρατήσει... Άραγε η περίφημη άμυνά του θα τον καλύψει στο σκάκι αλλά και στην μετέπειτα ζωή του;;
Ο Ναμπόκοφ έπλασε έναν χαρακτήρα ισάξιο με αυτούς της μεγάλης Ρωσικής Σχολής (Ντοστογιέφσκι, Τουργκένιεφ κλπ κλπ) και οδήγησε τα βήματα και την εξέλιξη της ζωής του μεθοδικά και υπομονετικά, όπως ακριβώς θα έκανε ένας σκακιστής με ένα πιόνι ή ένα πολύτιμο κομμάτι του...
Αριστούργημα και απλά 5/5... -
"Let's start if you're willing."
-- Vladimir Nabokov, The Luzhin Defense
G.K. Chesterton once famously quipped in his book
Orthodoxy that "Imagination does not breed insanity. Exactly what does breed insanity is reason. Poets do not go mad; but chess-players do. Mathematicians go mad, and cashiers; but creative artists very seldom."
Vladimir Nabokov’s th!rd novel about a lonely chess grandmaster reminds me of
Franz Kafka and a little bit of Melville's
Bartleby, the Scrivener. While this isn't my favorite Nabokov (it isn't
Pale Fire or
Lolita), it is the sweetest. Most of Nabokov's characters are cold, irrational and distant. Luzhin is sad, über-rational and beautiful in his madness.
This novel reminds me of this Randall Munroe
cartoon.
History is full of mathematicians, logicians, physicists, and chess Grand Masters whose search for logical conclusions, 'transfinite' sets, perfect stability, etc, drives them nuts. Men who hold an infinite series of answers and thus an infinite possibility for despair. Like Kafka once said, “There is an infinite amount of hope in the universe ... but not for us.”
To men like Luzhin, life and chess are such lonely battles. -
Sin duda una de las mejores novelas que he leído de Nabokov, muy superior a su Lolita. La defensa fue un libro hipnotizante desde el comienzo, imposible de soltar. Nos narra la vida desde la infancia hasta la adultez de Luzhin, un prodigioso del ajedrez. Este hombre es un ser muy especial, que desde temprana edad mostró una completa falta de habilidades sociales, un absoluto desinterés por relacionarse con los demás e integrarse a la sociedad. Su nula capacidad para enfrentarse al mundo exterior terminó desarrollando su mundo interno, prefiriendo hábitos como la lectura y una completa obsesión por el ajedrez. Esta habilidad extraordinaria para jugar a este juego de mesa es solo un síntoma secundario de su eterna lucha contra la realidad. Es una forma de escape, que termina afectando severamente su mente, la cual no puede dejar de ver el mundo como si se tratara de una partida de ajedrez, una eterna partida contra la vida.
El desarrollo psicológico del personaje es muy detallado y la narración casi sin diálogos que lo acompaña lo transforma en una verdadera experiencia de vida para el lector. Es una novela extremadamente bien pensada, llena de detalles que le dan una belleza estética a la patética vida de Luzhin. -
Αριστούργημα!!!!
Ένας μεγάλος Μαιτρ ο Nabokov, ξεδιπλώνει αργά και μεθοδικά το ταλέντο του... Σαν να παρακολουθείς έναν σπουδαίο μαέστρο να διευθύνει μια ορχήστρα... Συγκινητικός!!! -
Ah Nabokov, your words are like the warm familiar embrace of an ex-lover who knows just what I like . . . except without all the self-disgust the next day.
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واااااای فوق العاده بود...
همه چیز این کتاب فوق العاده است..
بنظرم یک شاهکار ادبی را همین حالا تموم کردم.
ناباکوف انگار نشسته و با کافکا و فروید و بکت، شطرنج بازی میکنه. بارها فروید رو کیش میده و با بکت و کافکا مساوی میکنه.
نمیخوام که نقد ادبی و یا ساختاری بنویسم.. در آخر کتاب جناب آقای رضا رضایی،مترجم توانای کتاب، به خوبی این کتاب رو نقد کرده.
فقط میخوام جریان سیال احساستم رو در مورد این کتاب بیان کنم.حالا که چشمام رو می بندم و باز میکنم تمام اتاق و اطرافیانم رو مثل یک صفحه ی شطرنج میبینم که در توالی عبث زندگی روی قاعده هایی از پیش تعیین شده زندگی میکنن. و آخر هم نتیجه همان چیزی میشه که از اول بوده. همینطور که لوژین هزار بار بازی رو برد و مهره هارو از اول چیند... وقتی هم باخت بازهم مهره هارو دوباره از قبل میچید.. چقدر دسته و پنجه نرم کردن با این مهره ها ؟ درست مثل همون هام و کلاو در آخرین بازی اثر سموئل گودو که هر مسیری میرفتن طی یک تکراری رو به بی نهایت ادامه پیدا میکرد.
وقتی قدم به جهان ناباکوف میگذارم، دیگه نمیشه به این سادگی ها بیرون رفت.
ترجمه ی کتاب عالی ! جلد کتاب و طراحیش فوق العاده :) -
Η επαφή μου με το σκάκι είναι ανύπαρκτη, κυρίως διότι δεν διαθέτω το εν��ιαφέρον και -εν τέλει- την απαιτούμενη ευφυία. Ως εκ τούτου, ακόμα και η λογοτεχνική του επικάλυψη με αφήνει καταρχάς ουδέτερο και δευτερευόντως καχύποπτο απέναντι στο εγχείρημα.
Πιστός όμως στο αξίωμα του "ΠΩΣ γράφεις και όχι στο ΤΙ γράφεις", παραμερίζω τις ενστάσεις περί περιεχομένου, και επικεντρώνομαι στην ουσία, δηλαδή στο ύφος. Η πρώτη μου επαφή μάλλον δεν ανέτρεψε την άποψη μου. Η περίφημη "Σκακιστική Νουβέλα" του Stefan Zweig υπήρξε βιβλίο ενδιαφέρον και καλογραμμένο, δίχως όμως να μου προξενήσει το απαραίτητο δέος, κάτι που οφείλεται σαφώς στον συγγραφέα: Ικανός γραφιάς, αλλά τίποτε πέραν αυτού - σαφώς υπερεκτιμημένος, κατά την άποψή μου.
Το αυτό δεν ισχύει για τον Nabokov, συγγραφέα τεραστίου βεληνεκούς που ως άλλος Μίδας αγγίζει με την πένα του το έλασσον και το μετατρέπει σε μείζον! Πόσω μάλλον όταν το αντικείμενό του είναι το λεγόμενο "Παιχνίδι των Βασιλέων", στου οποίου τη γοητεία -γνωρίζουμε- τακτικά υπέκυπτε και ο ίδιος.
"Η άμυνα του Λούζιν" δεν καταφεύγει στην ευκολία της περιγραφής περίπλοκων παρτίδων, σκακιστικών συλλογισμών και ψυχολογικής έντασης, ώστε να προ(σ)καλέσει το ενδιαφέρον του αναγνώστη. Τουναντίον, οι σκακιστικές διελκυστίνδες αποτελούν αφορμή για ανάλυση και ανελέητη ενδοσκόπηση του χαρακτήρα του Λούζιν. Ενός αλλοτριωμένου χαρακτήρα, έρμαιου της σκακιστικής του δεινότητας, τυφλού απέναντι στη ζωή και στις υποχρεώσεις της, αλλά και απόλυτα ξένου προς οποιοδήποτε ζωντανό ον επιχειρεί να τον προσεγγίσει.
Και ο Λούζιν αμύνεται σθεναρά ενάντια στον εαυτό του, ενάντια στο πάθος που τον κατακλύζει, καθώς η ζωή του μετατρέπεται σταδιακά σε μια τρομακτική αλληλουχία ασπρόμαυρων σκακιστικών τετραγώνων. Σε μια δίνη που ανελέητα τον ρουφά εντός της, δίχως έρμα για να αντισταθεί. Τίποτα και κανείς δεν μπορεί να τον σώσει από τον εαυτό του, καθώς τα φράγματα της λογικής υποχωρούν ένα-ένα. Ο Λούζιν επιχειρεί μάταια να στήσει την τελευταία του "Άμυνα" όσο ο κόσμος του αποσυντίθεται ανεξίτηλα γύρω του.
Πιόνι και ο ίδιος, καταλήγει αναπόδραστα στη μοναδική κίνηση που του απέμεινε: Να θέσει εαυτόν εκτός σκακιέρας. Και η τελευταία κίνηση ελευθερίας του, θα είναι τελικά εκείνη που θα του προσφέρει μια μικρή, ασήμαντη ανταμοιβή. Επιτέλους, ο Λούζιν (επώνυμο) θα αποκτήσει Όνομα (άγνωστο σε εμάς ως την τελευταία γραμμή), τη στιγμή ακριβώς που η αυλαία θα πέσει και ο δύστηνος ήρωας θα επιστρέψει δια παντός στο "κουτί της ανυπαρξίας". -
از نظر خودم رمان خاص و نابی و بود و از انجا که به ادبیات روسیه علاقمند بودم خواندن این کتاب شدیدا لذت بخش بود. پیچیدگی های خاصی داشت. توصیف فوق العاده که زیرکی تمام درش به کار رفته بود. زندگی لوژین سرشار بود از الگو های تکراری. هر چند که در طول عمر سی ساله اش که سعی در فرار از این الگو ها داشت چندان موفق نبود. این اثر اثری تراژیک است و فرجام غم انگیزی دارد. مترجم به این نکته اشاره کرده است که زندگی لوژین در بعضی قسمت ها به زندگی کسانی مثل استاد بزرگ "روبینشتاین"،"کورت فون باردلبن" (استاد برلینی) و آلخین (قهرمان شطرنج جهان در دهه های 30 و 40 شباهت داشت.
زندگی لوژین از آغاز تا پایان شباهتی عجیب به دنیای شطرنج داشت. دفاع لوژین دربرابر تمام حقارت ها،کاستی ها،یک نواختی ها و سردرگمی ها وافعا دردناک بود. به نظر من شاید تنها راه فرار او از زندگی واقعی اش پناه بردن به دنیای شطرنج بود با یک آیرونیه دردناک که این دلیل فرجام تلخ زندگی او شد.
واقعا از خواندن این رمان لذت بردم و سعی کردم با حوصله وقت بگذارم و حتی از یک جمله به راحتی نگذرم. ترجمه ی فوق العاده ای داشت و حق مطلب را به خوبی ادا کرد. (ترجمه از رضا رصایی)
قسمت پایانی و مورد علاقه ی من:
قبل از رها کردن خودش، به پایین نگاه کرد. آن جا تدارک عجولانه ای در جریان بود:انعکاس پنجره هاجمع شد و هم سطح شد،تمامی آن ورطه انگار به مربع های تیره و روشن تقسیم شد،و لحظه ای که لوژین دستش را رها کرد،لحظه ای که هوای یخ زده به دهانش حجوم بر، دقیقا دید که چه نوع ابدیتی به اجبار و بی رحمانه در برابرش گسترده می شود... -
6*
-
[32nd book of 2021. Artist for this review is Spanish painter Juan Gris.]
"Chessboard, Glass, and Dish", Details—1917
3.5. I would usually read a novel of this size in two or three days but I found this dense. Nabokov embeds all the dialogue as Kafka does, meaning most pages are giant paragraphs, sometimes running several pages, with conversations threaded in without any new lines for them. At night, if my eyes were drooping, I couldn't concentrate on the reams of continuous text.
As for the story: Luzhin becomes enamored with chess as a boy (he is a shy boy, meek, and rather unattractive) and slowly rises in fame. Around half-way he meets his mental breakdown. Chess doesn't actually play a giant role in the novel, it's more a commentary on the "mind of a genius", an idea I'm usually very fond of; but, frankly, there are better novels about chess (see Chess by Stefan Zweig) and there are better novels about the mind of a genius (see The Moon and Sixpence by W. Somerset Maugham). Nabokov's writing is always stunning, so it's hard to fault that, though this novel was missing some of his usual, almost demure, humour. The prose felt less playful than others, more self-serious. Apparently Luzhin is based off a man Nabokov knew from his own life, so perhaps that is why the prose reads the way it does. The ending is sudden, but I found quite moving. I was tempted to give it 4-stars but that wouldn't be a true representation of the experience as a whole. It's not a bad novel but it's slow and rather thick to wade through.
Chess always reminds of T.S. Eliot, Zweig, and now Nabokov. Though, I knew he was rather fond of a chess problem now and again anyway. My cousins were down from London yesterday and the eldest boy, Alexi, asked me if we could find a chessboard and play one another in the garden. Sadly, we could not. Instead, I read my grandmother's favourite Shakespeare sonnet to her, Sonnet 18. -
We find in The Luzhin Defense many of Nabokov's playful tropes: madness (monomania, solipsism), resistance to meaning (particular jabs at the "Viennese delegation"), genius outcast from society. It is apparent that his is an early work of the master, though a masterful work still. Luzhin is a remote but somehow lovable obsessive. Our affection for him has true potential, perhaps a potential unusual for the typical Nabokovian protagonist. But that affection is abated by our narrative distance from Luzhin: while the first person brings us closer to the monsters of Humbert and Kinbote, the third person alienates us from the more awkwardly lovable Pnin and Luzhin. This alienation is not unique to the reader, but a feeling felt by all who meet Luzhin: he is remote, inaccessible, too odd and too genius for the world in which he lives.
Ultimately, like all of Nabokov's memorable puppets, Luzhin's sanity is the vicitm of his own illusions: a victimhood manifest even in his characteristic conception, as Nabokov informs us in the Foreward: "The Russian title of this novel is Zashchita Luzhina, which means 'the Luzhin defense' and refers to a chess defense supposedly invented by my creature, Grandmaster Luzhin: the name rhymes with “illusion” if pronounced thickly enough to deepen the 'u' into 'oo.'" Luzhin is at once a man totally blinded by illusion, and also a man of preternaturally clear vision. His acuity and understanding in the realm of chess blinds him to the reality of his larger environment. As in Despair, Nabokov parodies his own focus on detail to comedic effect: focus on detail becomes dangerous myopia. Luzhin feels that attachment to the real world is a source of endless fatigue, even the chessboard is a burden to him. His consciousness, all of his senses, are focused so microscopically that he becomes a solemn object of ridicule:Luzhin was indeed tired. Lately he had been playing too frequently and too unsystematically; he was particularly fatigued by playing blind, a rather well-paid performance that he willingly gave. He found therein deep enjoyment: one did not have to deal with visible, audible, palpable pieces whose quaint shape and wooden materiality always disturbed him and always seemed to him but the crude, mortal shell of exquisite, invisible chess forces.
Chess is perhaps the perfect metaphor for Nabokov's style of art: precise, calculating, pure-play and pure-skill removed from chance. Nabokov's works are ruled by his aptly named (in Lolita) "McFate" - man-made, authored, Fate: fate which is removed from fortune. When interviewed for the Paris Review, he was asked if E.M. Forster's claim that [Forster's] character's had lives of their own, and wrote their fortunes for themselves, resonated with him, Nabokov answered (characteristically):My knowledge of Mr. Forster's works is limited to one novel, which I dislike; and anyway, it was not he who fathered that trite little whimsy about characters getting out of hand; it is as old as the quills, although of course one sympathizes with his people if they try to wriggle out of that trip to India or wherever he takes them. My characters are galley slaves.
Pot-shot at Passage to India aside, the closing seal on his answer is significant to understanding Nabokov's approach to art. "My characters are galley slaves." Slaves, like chess pieces beneath the hands of their master, ever part of a greater artwork: the game. Nabokov's artistry is a game, he is a parodist and a trickster. That stills our emotional reaction, but invokes our appreciate for his aesthetic achievements. Luzhin does not move us, and The Luzhin Defense is as much a chess defense as it is a defense against interpretation, against emotion. The Luzhin Defense is a case in the particular of the Nabokov Defense - a defense against meaning which he artfully employs to distance the heart, while drawing in the mind.
Despite the parallels between Luzhin Defense and Zweig's Chess Story, it would be in poor taste to imagine it a parody of Zweig's post-Nazi novella - however the comparison is unavoidable. There is a notable exchange in values when one moves from Zweig to Nabokov's takes on Chess obsessives. In Zweig we encounter a man literally tortured, and chess being a mental manifestation of both escape and continued imprisonment. Chess Story is a poignant, post-WWII tale, with heavy-laden messages against human cruelty, the double-edged sword of escapism, and the pervasive loss of innocence and beauty following the Nazi rule. In Luzhin Defense we are withheld meaning and given farce. While Nabokov plays with us, manipulates our affections and our perceptions, his art is a cold and distant art. The genius of Zweig's novella is to make chess warm to us, familiar, an obsession-affliction which is at the very border of our admiration and fear. The genius of Nabokov's novel is the inverse: it instills on the sympathetic narrative of a man gone mad by his own monomania with the cold aloofness of a chess match. -
به توصیه رفیقی کتاب را خواندم،داستانی پرکشش و مملو از جزییات ظریف که گویای تسلط نویسنده در خلق دنیای پیچیده ذهنی و پیرامونی نقش اول رمانه.استفاده از المانهای شطرنج در پیشبرد روند و توصیف موقعیتهای داستان جالبه.درکل خواندنی و قابل تامله،با ترجمه سلیس و درخور.
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Dalla parte di Lužin.
…E accorgersi all'improvviso, con un sorriso che gela sulla labbra, rabbrividendo, che la vita è tutta «una iterazione combinatoria di mosse», osservare, «con vaga ammirazione e con vago orrore con quanta paurosa raffinatezza, con quanta flessibilità, mossa dopo mossa, si fossero ripetute nel tempo le immagini della sua infanzia (casa di campagna, città, scuola, zia pietroburghese)», in un continuo cercare di giocare e rigiocare a memoria la partita della propria vita, un inseguimento continuo, una fuga dalla realtà, un continuo passare dal bianco al nero, da un quadrato all'altro, una partita in cui i pezzi spesso sono mossi da qualcun altro, anche se quell'altro ci ama e vuole solo salvarci… finché all'improvviso, ma neanche troppo, «gioco di prestigio!», appare tra le mani una scacchiera tascabile di marocchino rosso che riporta gioco e giocatori allo stesso punto in cui la partita sembrava essersi interrotta per sempre.
C'è qualcosa di Proust in questo piccolo Lužin, molto del piccolo Marcel, una casa nella campagna russa che per qualche strano giro della mente mi ha riportata a Combray. Ma quella di Nabokov è una sinfonia composta da più movimenti, e quindi a quello del «Wunderkind» Lužin che acuisce i sensi e la nostalgia, si contrappone quello del solitario e geniale Lužin adulto, un uomo disadattato che oggi diremmo affetto da autismo, e a questi il Lužin smarrito e docile e che si lascia guidare dalla fidanzata senza nome fin fuori dalla scacchiera, in un ritmo che è prima lento, poi andante, fino a divenire via via sempre più rapido.
Ed io, sempre più rapita e stupefatta, mi sono lasciata condurre dalle parole che danzano inseguendo il filo della memoria, in una partita in cui Lužin «nome che fa rima con illusion, se pronunciato con voce abbastanza pastosa da ispessire la u in uu», come spiega lo stesso Nabokov nell'imperdibile prefazione, vuole dimostrare a me, al mondo, ma prima di tutto a se stesso, che non tutto è illusione e che a volte la fuga è l'unica difesa possibile.
La storia? Ma cosa importa la storia quando c'è una scrittura come questa! Meglio lasciarsi guidare, come Lužin, dalla meravigliose parole di Nabokov. Tutto quello che c'è da sapere è lì, nero su bianco.
«E nel bel mezzo di quello squallido disordine se ne stava seduto l'uomo più insondabile del mondo, un uomo che si dedicava a un'arte spettrale, mentre lei cercava di fermarsi, di cogliere tutti i suoi difetti, tutte le sue stranezze, di dire a se stessa una volta per sempre che quello non era l'uomo giusto per lei, pur essendo allo stesso tempo decisamente preoccupata di come si sarebbe comportato in in chiesa e di come sarebbe stato in frac»
«Ma la luna emerse dai neri ramoscelli puntuti, una luna rotonda, corposa, affermazione vivida di vittoria, e quando infine Lužin si girò e mise piede nella stanza, sul pavimento c'era un enorme quadrato di chiarore lunare, e dentro quel chiarore si stagliava un'ombra, la sua.»
[Commento in corso di lettura]
Sono stupefatta, e abbagliata dalla bellezza della scrittura di Nabokov.
Mi chiedo se c'è differenza, nello stile, tra le sue opere scritte in russo e quelle scritte in inglese, una differenza che sia percepibile, in qualche modo, anche da chi come me legge in italiano.
È come trovarsi davanti ad un quadro in cui ogni più piccolo particolare è reso con una precisione che sembra fotografica, ma alla quale va ad aggiungersi la grazia del pittore che gioca con i colori le luci e le ombre per nascondere alcuni particolari e svelarne altri; una grazia nella quale è possibile riconoscere attraverso il guizzo di una rapida e improvvisa pennellata la creatività e il virtuosismo dell'autore che modella, perfeziona, esalta.
È una scrittura che si muove, della quale sembra di vedere con gli occhi i coni di luce che illuminano gli oggetti ed il pulviscolo che danza apparentemente mosso dal caos, oppure sentire il fruscio dei passi che scricchiolano sulla ghiaia, o percepire lo spostamento d'aria provocato da ogni singolo pezzo che si sposta sulla scacchiera. È una scrittura viva, in cui al bianco e al nero geometrico della scacchiera corrisponde la vita di Lužin, Lužin figlio, luminosa e cupa, così piena di luce e così completamente immersa nel buio, ombre e luci che si intersecano senza confini netti, senza regole e ruoli prestabiliti, senza logica alcuna, una scrittura in cui le parole hanno voce, ma in cui hanno voce anche i silenzi. -
ne trebaš biti ljubitelj šaha da bi uživao u ovoj izbrušenoj priči o lužinu tokom njegovog cijelog života. makar na samo dvjestotinjak stranica, nabokov je stručno, kroz duboki, ali nepretenciozni psihološki prikaz ispisao život "čudaka" lužina, šahovskog genijalca koji se teško snalazi u ovom svijetu (kako to već biva...).
majstorsko djelo, stilski dotjerano, za polako čitanje: čista klasika. -
Not as impressive as Lolita, but still a solid read. Mostly, I was bored and confused with the direction of the plot. Well, almost non-existent plot. Luzhin is supposed to be compelling and intriguing, but he's non of the above. Also, the ending isn't even nearly satisfying and I feel like I'm left hanging.
This is a story about an obsessed chess player who doesn't distinguish reality from imagination. Basically, the plot deals with the story of a genius, whose perception of life entwines with chess strategy. There were some inconsistent time jumps that weren't explained properly and it bugged me, like the way narrative jumped sixteen years in a single paragraph.
The story had so much potential because of the captivating topic, but the delivery was average and prosaic. Most of the characters are flat, plastic and lifeless. The narrative of The Defense drags to unnecessary lengths without any direction nor endgame. Between ridiculously long description of interior decorating and questionable parenting, there is a semi-interesting plot hidden deeply into a bit overdramatic obsession.
Luzhin stumbles through the novel like he's autistic. He's constantly falling over the breaking line by trying to solve an impossible chess problem. Also, he's useless as a human being in general. He has no real purpose in this world nor to people around him. He's like a vegetable. Chess is his life, it consumes him to the point where not even his "devoted" wife can rescue him. He's a two-dimensional character with no redeeming quality.
Mrs. Luzhin doesn’t seem like a convincing spouse, not even close. I can't even remember her name if it was ever mentioned. She looks like a nurse or even as an overprotective mother, not a loving wife. There aren't any displays of emotion between them. I wonder if she's even attracted to Luzhin and vice versa.
Since he was born, Luzhin had a strenuous and downright weird relationship with relatives. His parents never even tried to get to know him, they only wanted to make him an upgraded version of themselves. They were DISAPPOINTED when he grew up to have his own personality. A bleak personality, though. -
This is a story about obsession. The central character is a child prodigy of chess. We observe his life into his forties. The setting is primarily St. Petersburg and Berlin, although he travels the world from one tournament to the next as his fame grows. It is not the travels that are the book’s focus. The focus is instead how a chess champion might view the world. He sees the black and white of a chessboard in the patches of dark and light squares shadowing landscapes, dwellings and the whole world around him. He sees the moves made by the pawns, the knights, bishops and rooks, and the king and the queen as patterns mirrored in people’s behavior. The game on the board blends into the world around him. The two become indistinguishable; one cannot be separated from the other. What are the consequences?
I like the ending. For me, the ending is clear. Others may disagree. I think . In any case, at the story’s end you are left thinking. You must assemble all that has been said and draw a conclusion that fits.
The prose is wonderful. Nabokov plays with words. He uses words in ways out of the ordinary. The writing makes you smile, it is colorful and one’s senses are pushed off-kilter in a very good way. You can spot Nabokov’s prose a mile away. Inanimate objects come alive—a deep armchair hugs you. A son is referred to by his father as his little “squirt”. Have you paid attention to the fact that when you fill a bathtub with water, the tone emanating from the waterspout changes as the level of water in the tub rises? Nabokov has, and he reminds us of this. Have you thought about how the Baltic Sea looks like a kneeling woman? Go and look; check it out! It is worth reading this book for the prose alone.
Here is another fun tidbit. Luzhin, the central character, the child prodigy cum chess champion, rhymes with illusion. Think about what this says.
Mel Foster narrates the audiobook very well. He speaks clearly and distinctly and at a perfect pace. German and Russian words blend in easily. This is important since the characters and the setting are from these two places. Four stars for the audio narration.
This, Nabokov’s third novel, was originally written and published in Russian, after he had emigrated to Berlin. He began it while “hunting butterflies” in the Pyrenees and completed it on his return to Berlin. Luzhin is based on a chess champion Nabokov actually knew-- Curt von Bardeleben. The book was translated into English by Michael Scammell and the author together. The English translation came out thirty-four years after the book’s first publication in 1930.
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*
Lolita 5 stars
*
Ada, or Ardor: A Family Chronicle 5 stars
*
Speak, Memory 5 stars
*
Mary 4 stars
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Laughter in the Dark 4 stars
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Glory 4 stars
*
The Real Life of Sebastian Knight 4 stars
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The Luzhin Defense 4 stars
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The Gift 3 stars
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King, Queen, Knave 3 stars
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Pale Fire 2 stars
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Pnin 1 star
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Despair 1 star
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Transparent Things 1 star
*
Chess Story by
Stefan Zweig 5 stars -
Λούζιν – losin’… Αυτή η συνεκδοχή μου τριβελίζει το κεφάλι σε όλο το ψυχικό ταξίδι που διένυσα σε αυτό το πλούσιο και πυκνό σε λέξεις και νοήματα βιβλίο.
Μέσα σε ένα ντουμάνι καπνισμένων και απωθημένων αισθημάτων και αισθήσεων, λαμβάνει χώρα η άμυνα του πρωταγωνιστή Λούζιν, που κοπιάζει και ματώνει για να αιχμαλωτίσει και να απομονώσει επιτέλους εκείνη τη μαγική κίνηση-κλειδί που θα έλυνε τον μεγάλο γρίφο της ύπαρξής του. Με φόντο την ασπρόμαυρη σκακιέρα, την πραγματική και φαντασιακή σκακιέρα που μια σαν τρικυμία σκάει τα επιθετικά της κύματα στο μυαλό του Λούζιν κι έπειτα το γαληνεύει με αρμονία σαν μια κλασική μουσική που χαϊδεύει και κατευνάζει μια ψυχή που υποφέρει τα πιο ανυπόφερτα πάθη. Η σκακιέρα, μια κινούμενη άμμος που τον ρουφούσε αναπόδραστα στα τρίσβαθά της, δεν του άφηνε περιθώριο κι επιλογή να αρπάξει την ίδια τη ζωή. Όλοι προσπαθούν να τον αδράξουν και τους ξεφεύγει όπως το νερό βρίσκει εύκολα δίοδο ανάμεσα στα βότσαλα για να χαθεί στο στομάχι της γης. Η γυναίκα του, που με φαντάστηκα εύκολα στη θέση της - θα μπορούσα να τον είχα διαλέξει κι εγώ αυτόν τον τύπο για την όχι τόσο προφανή στο ευρύ κοινό γοητεία του - τον νταντεύει, τον κανακεύει όπως θα φερόταν κανείς σε ένα παιδί, με την ελπίδα να τον προστατεύσει από το μοιραίο κακό που ενσαρκώνεται σε μια σκακιέρα· μάταια όμως. Η μυρμηγκιά που δημιουργήθηκε στο μυαλό του, έχει από χρόνια απλώσει τα τριχοειδή της αγγεία στο σώμα και το νου του, που μάταια πια αναζητά να γητευτεί. Η σκακιστική δεξιοτεχνία του Λούζιν να σκεφτεί τις πιο ευφάνταστες και νικηφόρες κινήσεις γίνεται αντιστρόφως ανάλογη με την επιστράτευση των δυνάμεών του να σώσει την παρτίδα της ύπαρξής του.
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Ένα πανέξυπνο και γοητευτικό βιβλίο που εγκαινιάζει την επαφή μου με τον Ναμπόκοφ, ο οποίος με κέρδισε ολοκληρωτικά με το βάθος, το ύψος και το πλάτος των σεναριακών του συλλήψεων· το διάβασα αργά, σαν ένα καλό μπράντι, για να συλλάβω ό,τι εμπεριέχεται ανάμεσα στις γραμμές, και ήταν πολλά αυτά. Ευχαριστώ έναν φίλο από δω μέσα γι’ αυτή την πρόταση. -
Hands-up: I read some of this at bullet-train speed because I had to return it to the library. Yes, I could have withdrawn it again, but there were only fifty-odd pages left and some new Foster Wallace was in that set my hands a-twitchin’ and my brain a-spinnin’.
So I didn’t let the sumptuous prose slowly unfold, I didn’t delicately caress his sentences with the same narcissistic mania the author bestowed upon his own works. But there wasn’t much sumptuousness here, anyway. His third novel is a more straightforward work, plump with overlong descriptions and meandering scenes between unconvincing characters.
Mrs Luzhin in particular (Emily Watson in the film—delicious) doesn’t seem a convincing spouse, nor does her attraction to the über-tortured chess-whizz Luzhin (John Turturro in the film—delicious) seem particularly well-rationalised, outside his general weird-genius aura. Luzhin stumbles through the novel like Rain Man, driven mad by trying to solve an impossible chess problem and his general uselessness as a human being.
Surprising how people cite Luzhin as a ‘warmer’ Nabokov character: I couldn’t stand his drivelling idiocy, and the intrigue for me fell to the way he was going to crush Mrs Luzhin’s heart. The title also seems to refer to how Mrs L defends Luzhin in the eyes of her parents, how she keeps him in expensive mini-breaks with scenic greenery. Lucky for some.
If you happen to be a chess genius, however, this is probably the greatest book you’ll ever read. (Chess memoirs excluded—that’s cheating). -
Di Nabokov conoscevo soltanto Lolita e lo giudicavo scrittore geniale, ma, chissà perché, non avevo mai desiderato leggere altro. Poi mi è capitato di vedere il film "La partita”, e, delusa e insospettita, ho deciso di andare a leggermi il romanzo da cui è tratto. Avevo ragione: la storia è completamente diversa. Il film, nonostante la bravura di Turturro che interpreta Luzin, è la solita volgare sciocchezza, la solita storiella d'amore in abiti eleganti, le solite patinate scene di sesso. Il romanzo è molto più complesso e raffinato, la trama più verosimile e realistica, tutto è più vero e di conseguenza più toccante. Ma soprattutto mi ha colpito lo stile di Nabokov, straordinariamente bello, limpido, fluente, ricco come un torrente di montagna in primavera. Amo esattamente questo stile di scrittura: non quello troppo nudo e scarno 'all'americana', dalle frasi brevi e denudate di ogni aggettivo e avverbio e perfino della punteggiatura: in fondo non ne ho mai capito veramente il senso. Né, tantomeno, quello artificioso e barocco che definirei 'all'italiana', infarcito di metafore e di voli poetici e compiaciuti arcaicismi. No, questo, per me, è precisamente saper scrivere, saper usare le parole, tutte le parole e tutte le forme, saperle orchestrare con tutte le punteggiature e saper costruire una prosa ricca ma equilibrata; e già non vedo l'ora di leggere altri Nabokov.
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Over the last few weeks I’ve read The Luzhin Defense, followed by Bluebeard and then Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?
Originally I was going to write some stuff here about the central characters and compare them with the original Outsider. I was going to say things like this:
Maybe it is a contradiction in terms, to put 3 books about outsiders in the same review, but I can’t stop myself.
We have here a chess player, a doctor who might or might not have murdered a wife and a chickenhead. They all share a trait lacking in the original Outsider: they are all able to induce a sympathetic response from the reader. I don’t believe we have any capacity to understand Camus’s Outsider and without that, how can we have sympathy? It is easy to empathise with the others, however apart they may be from our own lives. It is impossible for Camus to put us in the shoes of his Outsider. It IS possible to become the crazy chess player, the murderous doctor, the mentally deficient chickenhead. Indeed it is Dick’s great strength that his characters slip into you; no matter that they are hypothetical consequences of a hypothetical world.
I can’t help wondering how I would have felt about Nabokov if I’d read him last instead of first. I thought he was getting away with being clever and ornate at the time. But to read the spare prose of Frisch next made me question this. And sharing with Dick the suffering of his characters meant I started wondering if Nabokov really had a clue what he was writing about. He says things that hit the mark for sure and his general thesis that chess saves the hero’s life until his dogooder wife-to-be starts interfering is completely faithful to the real world. I would scarcely be the only chess player to associate with Luzhin’s discovery of the game, a discovery that means life is suddenly tolerable. But something makes me distrust Nabokov’s potrayal of the Outsider, and I’m tired of trying to figure out what it is.
That’s the sort of thing I was going to say.
But I’d rather read. Consider me a goodreads outsider. -
A young boy, a loner, indifferent to everything, discovers chess. Ensnared by this insanely addictive game, he becomes even more indifferent to everything--except chess. He grows up, becomes a champion, many of his games considered "immortals." In a championship game against the equally-brilliant Italian Grandmaster Turati, upon adjourning a very difficult position, he suffers a breakdown. He survives, but the doctors opine that further chess might be fatal to him. Enough of the plot.
I have been looking for a copy of the film adaptation of this novel at my favorite video pirate shop. No luck so far. Would love to watch this on screen.It reportedly stars John Turturro (presumably as the chess genius Luzhin) and Emily Watson (as his wife). Nabokov's Luzhin is supposed to be short and fat, and his wife not that attractive. Emily Watson is lovely, Turturro is lean and tall. But Turturro has THAT look. Who directed this film? How did he do with the mad, but very tender scenes, between Luzhin and his wife? How did he illuminate Nabokov's brilliant chess metaphors, through Luzhin, who saw his life, from his childhood onwards, as a long chess combination, the fatal end to which he foresaw, desperately tried to find a way to avert, by defending, by countering the enemy's plans, by thwarting the attacks, with all the tenacity and strength he could muster? How to put on screen Nabokov's unparallelled characterizations? The jarring dialogues (especially Luzhin's few) with their admirable uniqueness and unpredictability (how did Nabokov conceive all these?)?
I read the last three pages of this novel standing up. I was about to leave already, for a meeting, but my feet were glued to the floor and my eyes to the book. The Luzhin Defense (sounds like a chess opening) was being played out. The conclusion was near. Tic, toc, went the chess clock, only seconds remaining... -
شاید بتوانم بگویم اثرِ قدرنادیدهی نابوکوف است این کتاب. روایتی از آنچه به سرِ غیرمعمولیها میآید یا روایتی که نابوکوف در نامه به مادرش از آن با این مضمون که "عجب چیز پیچیدهی پیچیدهای بود" یاد میکند.
به نظر من این اثر میتوانست به یکی از شاخصهای ادبی و نقطههای ارجاع تبدیل شود. -
After reading Lolita, I knew that I'd need another book to feed my new addiction to Nabokov. Something I could read over and over. Something with his deliciously clever writing, minus the pedophilia. I had high hopes for The Defense and I enjoyed the book, but didn't quite find what I was looking for. I'm not sure if some of his writing genius was lost in translation, it was written in Russian then translated to English, or if it was simply that in the 25 years spanning the works he became a better author. Either way, while some of his talent for word smithing is there, it holds only a pale fire to Lolita.
The theme of the book adds to the stereotype that Russians are obsessed with chess. To it's credit though, The Defense makes a solid case for why such an obsession might be rational. Despite the game being the protagonist Luzhin's demise, it is presented as such a fascinating contest that I couldn't help but to break out a chess set and see if I didn't have the potential for grandmastery myself. I got a little ego boost by cleanly drubbing my 7 year old, but it came with the distinct feeling that I should confine my forays into chess to the literary realm.
For Luzhin, a guy who probably organizes his closet chronologically by purchase date, chess is more than a game. It becomes his life, it consumes him to the point where not even his devoted, Middlemarchian wife can rescue him from the obsession. Some of the best writing in the book describes his complete absorption in the game:Luzhin, preparing an attack for which it was first necessary to explore a maze of variations, where his every step aroused a perilous echo, began a long meditation: he needed, it seemed, to make one last prodigious effort and he would find the secret move leading to victory. Suddenly, something occurred outside his being, a scorching pain — and he let out a loud cry, shaking his hand stung by the flame of a match, which he had lit and forgotten to apply to his cigarette. The pain immediately passed, but in the fiery gap he had seen something unbearably awesome, the full horror of the abysmal depths of chess. He glanced at the chessboard and his brain wilted from hitherto unprecedented weariness. But the chessmen were pitiless, they held and absorbed him. There was horror in this, but in this also was the sole harmony, for what else exists in the world besides chess? Fog, the unknown, non-being...
And later, maybe my favorite paragraph of the book comes when Luzhin is descending back into his affliction. This is where the writing in The Defense seems to come closest to Lolita:But the next move was prepared very slowly. The lull continued for two or three days; Luzhin was photographed for his passport, and the photographer took him by the chin, turned his face slightly to one side, asked him to open his mouth wide and drilled his tooth with a tense buzzing. The buzzing ceased, the dentist looked for something on a glass shelf, found it, rubber-stamped Luzhin's passport and wrote with lightning-quick movements of the pen. 'There,' he said, handing over a document on which two rows of teeth were drawn, and two teeth bore inked-in little crosses. There was nothing suspicious in all this and the cunning lull continued until Thursday. And on Thursday, Luzhin understood everything.
It's a good book. It's not what I hoped for from Nabokov, but for almost any other author it'd be a summit.
Oh, and if you'd like to read the book without knowing the entire plot first, do NOT read Nabokov's introduction. Without warning he gives away all of the major turns in the book then casually reveals the ending to top it off. -
Једно од многих генијалних дела Владимира Набокова које сам стицајем случајних околности читао упоредо са гледањем серије Дамин гамбит, популарне и занимљиве хладноратовске пропаганде са бајковито срећним крајем. Две приче о шаху, обе о деци која рано и случајно сазнају да табла са шаховским фигурама није само игра већ представља један паралелни свет у који нису сви позвани. Лужин је дечак који се у стварном свету не сналази баш најбоље. Његова комуникација са другим људима, породицом и вршњацима сведена је на најниже могуће гране, често делује и као дечак са посебним потребама. Али тако је само док се Лужин не сусретне са шаховским фигурама поређаним на шаховксој табли. Чудо од детета, шаховски геније, које својом зрелошћу и промишљеним потезима добија партије и осваја турнире, чудо чији свет стоји на тој маленој табли или та табла стоји као свет који окружује Лужина. Малени Лужин више није дете, свет се више не изненађује његовом генијалношћу, његове партије више не привлаче пажњу и он представља сталног учесника шаховских турнира, као и незгодни италијански играч који практикује незгодна отварања. Свет из главе излази у стварност, шаховске фигуре добијају форму свакодневних уличних објеката, јер шах то је живот, а фигуре могу бити свуда око нас. Једно дрво, или неки човек, можда и улична светиљка могу бити све оно што представљају и шаховске фигуре на шаховској табли и њима се може играти, њима се мора играти. Ко је краљица у стварном животу која вуче конце животних фигура и може ли Лужин спремити савршену одбрану која ће му донети коначну победу, отворити врата успеха и обезбедити бекство из тог вируелног света у који је набасао док је вукао фигуре по шаховској табли? Фантастична психолошка књига о коренима лудила и линијама живота којима корачају они који жонглирају генијалношћу, опседнутост сопственим страховима и магија људских мисли, тако чаробних, тако недокучивих, испреплетаних и пуних замки, у покушају да се изврши рокада, да се преокрене ситуација, да се поврати власт на својим животом и да се на шаховској табли зада мат.
„Након сваке сеансе турнира он је све теже пузао из света шаховских појмова, тако да је чак и дању почела да се појављује непријатна расцепљеност. Нако једне трочасовне партије глава га је чудно болела, не цела већ делови, црни квадрати бола, и неко време није модао да нађе врата, заклоњена тамном мрљом, нити је могао да се сети адресе вољене куће...“
