The Greenbecker Gambit
Witty, delightfully written, and disturbing, The Greenbecker Gambit is a one-off. But this must be the first time I have adjudged a novel a comic masterpiece without having a clue how to place it. Let’s try a few possibilities.
Is it an evaluation of a chess opening? Hardly. The title is a homage to Nabokov’s sensuous novel The Luzhin Defence, which traces a child prodigy for whom the abstract otherworldliness of chess eventually compromises his view of reality. The gambit itself, part of Tennessee Greenbecker’s preparation for his coming fantasy world championship match against ‘Magnus’, is a return to nineteenth century chess romanticism based around Spassky’s experimentation with the King’s Gambit. I had supposed that the suggested ‘improvement’ would re-jig the SMERSH Gambit (appropriately ‘Death to the spies’ in Russian) but as a KG player myself I found it impossible to construct a plausible continuation that matched the text. Maybe it’s all a part of the joke.
Is it a satire on the world of chess? That’s more like it. Real chess players appear alongside the fictitious ones and Graff is notably well-informed. There is much professional gossip and tales of poor behaviour around the chess board, both historical and recent. Greenbecker consistently reflects in an exaggerated form many of the human imperfections that plague the allegedly ‘noble game’.
Or is it a medical and psychiatric case study, despite being indelicately amusing? One reviewer suggested the novel as essential reading for health professionals dealing with psychiatric illnesses. I am not so sure. Tennesee’s own account of his mental state is wildly inconsistent, although clearly delusional. But is it delusional solipsism, psychotic depression or even schizophrenia? And how does expressive rather than instrumental arson fit in? Also, is it legitimate to conduct a psychiatric autopsy on fictional characters as if they were Donald Trump or Boris Johnson?
Or might The Greenbecker Gambit be allegory, a sort of chess version of the medieval play of Everyman? Some of Graff’s comments around the novel strongly suggest this and it strikes me as an attractive line of argument. Faced with Sir Gawain and the Green Knight we do not ask whether the hero is mentally ill or just the victim of bad choices; we perceive the pattern as universal, a matter of seasonal renewal, much as Greenbecker sees pyrotechnics and regeneration as a generic truth of which he is just an example. We all need a narrative to build our life around: a goal, a dream, an obsession. Writ large, the novel could be seen as an extension of Jesus’s Parables of the Kingdom. Choose the thing for which you are prepared to give everything, your treasure hidden in a field. But in order to be worthy you must keep the lamp of your ambition trimmed. The wheat will be gathered but the tares cast into the fire.
Yet surely what we are dealing with is a Rough Guide to London’s underclass? Although the novel is narrated by its hero (antihero?) as a vehicle for his delusionary insights, there is a rich array of secondary characters, and Tennessee’s interaction with them is wonderfully written and often laugh-out-loud amusing. Many are from London’s seedy underworld and appear as wickedly observed pen portraits that showcase Graff’s powers of observation and way with words. I particularly liked the drunks and piss-artists, the denizens of the doss houses and greasy cafes, the various officials and functionaries, the lesbian journalists, and the quarrelling spouses, all seen by Greenbecker as in the employ of the hostile deep state. The most substantial other character is his long-suffering exploited elder brother Gabriel, the main source of an alternative narrative to Tennessee’s. Their adversarial chess-like relationship, entirely based around money, is one of the joys of the book. Meanwhile his mother, a celebrated writer, oppresses him from beyond the grave.
And finally, coming up on the rails, is the possibility that in the final analysis The Greenbecker Gambit can be viewed as an undercover political essay. There is certainly a lot of politics in it, and not only the dirty chess politics within FIDE and the ECF, and what at first appears to be random asides quickly add up. Named politicians come and go, with Tennessee showing a misplaced enthusiasm for the right-wing politics of Thatcher and Trump (not his most attractive quality) together with an anti-immigrant pro-Brexit stance. There is an intriguing overlap between our hero’s paranoia about deep state surveyance and the more recent internet machinations of QAnon conspiracy theories. The Houses of Parliament ever hovers in the background as a backdrop. What does the world depicted need to put it right beyond a modern-day Guy Fawkes?
Chess players will absolutely love this book, particularly those with a literary bent. Graff
shares Philip Roth’s talent for combining coarse abusive language with a self-conscious literariness. But its thematic many-sidedness and wicked humour deserve a wider audience. The Greenbecker Gambit would make a perfect Christmas present.
David Jenkins