In the book "Magnus Plays Upstairs," there are no dizzying adventures—in fact, there is almost nothing happening at all. The action unfolds slowly, and the plot is loosely sketched. This book doesn't capture the reader; it draws you in. Line after line, you find yourself completely submerged in its leisurely narrative. This is facilitated by good, restrained literary prose, free of clichés and excess. There are no sharp psychological contrasts here either: good vs. bad, friend vs. enemy, adult vs. child, euphoria vs. grief. Everything is balanced; all the characters are reasonable people, and no serious dramas or conflicts occur. So, what is it that makes this book so appealing? It’s a mystery. Perhaps it is exactly this normalcy, this calm way of experiencing life without the intensity of passion...
The plot is as follows: a mother enrolls her six-year-old son, Tal, in a chess club. That is essentially it. What follows are just classes at a youth center, occasional trips to tournaments, and a slow immersion into the process. Tal isn't a child prodigy, and it’s not even that he’s crazy about chess, but he enjoys practicing. He follows world competitions and dreams a little about meeting Magnus Carlsen. That meeting does eventually happen, but it isn't the climax of the book (because this book has no climax at all). Meeting the world champion is a perfectly plausible event in a chess player's life—almost routine.
Along with her son, the mother timidly enters the world of chess: first, she learns how the pieces move and starts watching tournaments on TV; soon, she finds that she knows all the prominent grandmasters by face and name; and before long, chess becomes part of her very unconventional hobby-turned-job. (Want to know how to monetize embroidery using chess? ;) Read the book!)
This novella is primarily about how a pursuit can captivate a person. How life fills with meaning through new interests. How wonderful it is to dive into something headfirst. How one can engage in something without the goal of reaching sparkling summits. And how to avoid placing any expectations on a child, just puttering along because, well, they seem to like it—and that’s fine...
Of course, the book will be of interest primarily to chess players. But even if your children are involved in something else that likewise consumes the entire life of the family, you will understand exactly what this story is about. Nevertheless, to fully embrace the spirit of it, you need to play at least a little chess. The reader won't have to solve puzzles or analyze the strengths and weaknesses of games, but it is still desirable to be generally familiar with the subject, otherwise, you might get bored.
Natalya Evdokimova is an outstanding writer. To derive such an engaging, expansive, and profound psychological novella from the subject of "a boy started taking chess lessons" is a true calling; you can't do that without genuine talent. Bravo!
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