***** Review1 ***** November 1995 Book Review by Hanon Russell! "news 257" for more info. --------------------------------------------------------------------- John Nunn's Best Games by John Nunn Reviewed by Hanon W. Russell JOHN NUNN'S BEST GAMES, by John Nunn, 1995 Batsford, Softcover, Figurine algebraic notation, 320pp., $26.95 There are several game collections which will always be recognized as classics. Fischer's "My Sixty Memorable Games" comes immediately to mind. Likewise, the series written by Alekhine on his best games. Others could be no doubt mentioned. Suffice it to say that British Grandmaster John Nunn's book featuring his games from 1985-1993 should take its place among this elite group. Previous articles and books by Nunn have been very well received, so the fact that he has produced another quality effort should be no real surprise. What is not well known is that this book is actually a sequel to his "Secrets of Grandmaster Play". In many respects, the sequel is much superior. There are forty games, each with incredibly detailed analysis. He presents them chronologically, beginning in the middle of the Wijk aan Zee 1985 tournament (where "Secrets..." had ended). This book would have been worthy of any library without anything additional, but Nunn complements his sometimes intense analysis with a breezy anecdotal style, linking the games together in most interesting fashion. The reader does not have to take this reviewer's word for it. For example, Nunn's game with Women's World Champion Maya Chiburdanidze from Linares 1988 is prefaced with the following narrative... 1988: Perhaps it was not surprising, given my lack of practice, that Hastings was unsuccessful. The conditions at Hastings were an additional factor. At this time the tournament was played in the Queen's Hotel, a relic from the early part of the century. I had fallen ill almost every time I had played at Hastings, partly due to the fact that in earlier years the players had stayed at the Yelton Hotel, famous mainly for its lack of central (or, indeed, any other type of) heating. When I was invited to the 1987/8 tournament, I made only one condition, namely that I would be given a room with central heating. Every couple of months I would phone to confirm that this wish would be satisfied. On 28th December I arrived and - guess what? found a freezing cold room without any form of heating. Unfortunately, I had arrived rather late in the day, and no heated room was available. This might seem surprising given the size of the hotel, but during the famous 1987 'hurricane', one of the large chimneys at the top of hotel had collapsed right through the building, killing one person. The wrecked part of the building was still sealed off. In due course I moved to a heated room, but this was one of the most depressing hotel rooms I have ever stayed in. It was small and dark, the only window being almost completely obscured by the lattice of a fire escape. The general conditions in the hotel weren't too much fun either; it was a red-letter day when hot water was available. The players took their meals in the hotel restaurant, which was notable for being situated in a very exposed position, having no double glazing and, yes, you guessed it again, no heating. Some players took to dining in their overcoats, but eventually the hotel procured a device resembling a jet engine, which partially warmed the restaurant at the cost of drowning out any possible conversation. Many years ago there was a great deal of controversy when Tony Miles attacked the conditions at Hastings in print. At the time Tony was writing, the tournament was played in the White Rock Pavilion rather than the Queen's Hotel, but basically Tony was dead right - the conditions at Hastings were a disgrace. Moreover, the tournament seemed to do its best to avoid any kind of publicity. The lack of tournaments and difficulties in attracting sponsors are perennial problems in British chess. The reasons are too complex to go into here, but I can tell one story which sheds some light on the subject. At one time William Ritson-Morry, who died in January 1994, was the main organiser. Now 'Ritson', as he was universally known, did a great deal for British chess, but his organisational style was rather idiosyncratic. Once, in the early eighties, I wasn't playing at Hastings myself, but I decided to go down for the day. At the time I had a monthly column in The Illustrated London News and I intended to devote one column to Hastings. Of course, I needed to choose a game to publish. Having asked a couple of players to recommend games, I went over to Ritson to see if I could get copies. There was no photocopy machine, but I was prepared to write them out by hand. Unfortunately, Ritson couldn't find the game scores in question. Finally I asked if I could be sent the bulletin at the end of the event. Ritson said that he would send me one, but I would have to pay for it. I agreed to pay and handed over the money. At the end of the tournament I eagerly awaited the arrival of the bulletin, but the wait was to be a long one. It finally turned up 357 days after the end of the tournament, in fact just after round seven of the following year's event. Perhaps Woodward and Bernstein would have succeeded in uncovering the secret game scores of Hastings, but it was evidently beyond me. During the 1987/8 event I won but a single game during the 14 rounds; in the middle of the tournament I came down with food poisoning and lost two games in a row. All my other games were drawn. The whole experience was thoroughly depressing and I was delighted to agree an early draw against Short in the last round, which gave him first prize and me the delightful knowledge that the event was at an end. On my way out of the tournament hall I was verbally mugged by a woman who complained that my quick draw was a disgrace, I should be ashamed of myself and so on. For some reason she didn't feel it necessary to attack Nigel the same way, even though he was White in the game in question. Of course she did have some kind of point, but perhaps she wouldn't have been full of fighting spirit herself after two and half weeks in the Queen's Hotel and an attack of food poisoning. It seemed an appropriate end to the event, somehow, but I didn't really mind - Hastings was over! Murray Chandler had offered to give me a lift back to London. When I asked him if he was leaving after the closing dinner or the following morning, he looked at me strangely and said 'After the dinner, of course'. I could understand his desire not to stay one night more than necessary in the Queen's Hotel. I dubbed the journey back 'Escape From Hastings'. The dinner finished just before midnight and a thick mist had sprung up as we left the hotel. I began to imagine that at any moment I would be mercilessly exposed in a sudden searchlight beam and hotel staff would grab me by the arms and drag me back for another two and a half weeks in the hotel. As it happens, we ' made it undetected to the car park and drove slowly (so as not to arouse suspicion) out of Hastings. I resolved never to play again at Hastings if it involved staying in the Queen's Hotel. This rather gloomy saga has a happy ending. In the past few years Hastings has been transformed from the laughing stock of the international chess community into a desirable event. The tournament is now in the comfortable Cinque Ports Hotel, which offers much better facilities for both players and spectators. The Challengers