DVORETSKY’S ANALYTICAL MANUAL
Author: Mark Dvoretsky
419 pages
Russell Enterprises, Inc. (2008)
$34.95

Reviewed by Jeremy Silman

Dvoretsky, of course, is considered by many to be the world’s greatest chess trainer. I’ve never met the man, nor have I seen him actually teach. However, I’ve read his books, spoken to some who have indeed taken lessons from him, and can say with quite a bit of confidence that he’s world class in every way.
Now comes the rub: Dvoretsky is a top-of-the-line trainer for advanced players (2200 right to grandmaster), but his material tends to be way, way over the heads of players under 1900, and only somewhat useful for players in the 1900 to 2199 range (depending on how much effort they are willing to put into it).

Though his earlier training books were met with rave reviews, he only hit the “mainstream” when his highly touted DVORETSKY’S ENDGAME MANUAL appeared. This endgame tome appealed to players in many rating groups, though I still remain unconvinced as to its usefulness for those players under 1800.

However, with DVORETSKY’S ANALYTICAL MANUAL he most definitely reaches for very advanced players. In fact, he makes this clear right in his introduction, “The book which lies before you is aimed first of all at helping strong players complete themselves. This ensures that it will overflow with exceptionally complex analyses and exercises which will be difficult for even the leading grandmasters to handle. But I suggest that even amateur players will find something of interest in it.”

Okay, he seems to think that amateur’s will enjoy it too, and though the odd “endless analysis loving” amateur will want it, the final sentence in the above statement tells me that he’s out of touch with the desires and needs of the true chess masses. Time and again I’ve been told by chess amateurs that they won’t read books that have too much raw analysis. For people like this, Dvoretsky’s new book would be their worst nightmare.

DVORETSKY’S ANALYTICAL MANUAL is a large book that feels soft and easily readable in one’s hand. A well-produced book, a famous chess writer/trainer, a lot of interesting prose – ah, love might well be in the air. But that light-hearted promise of chess enlightenment will (for many) come crashing down when they open the book and see reams of moves leaping from the page to their jugular in much the same way rabid, starving vampire bats would rush at a slashed, helpless throat.

We get a taste of this on the very first page of chapter one. Here he analyzes an amazing attack, and in his second paragraph makes this interesting (rather jarring) comment: “The course of analysis uncovered more and more subtleties, some of them utterly fantastic, ‘non-human.’ People cannot play chess at this level yet – in fact, I hardly think they will ever be capable of learning how.”

He then dives into eleven and a half solid pages of raw analysis. Lots of it is amazing, it’s certainly fun, and at times you might get dizzy and pass out (the heights of Mount Olympus offers very little oxygen). And this left me with a basic question: Am I learning anything here? I found it fun, but others might simply be horrified by a mountain of moves that could (and often does!), at any moment, turn into an avalanche and leave you buried under more exclamations points and “the running of the King” moments than you ever considered possible. But instruction? No, that’s not what chapter one is about (and there’s nothing wrong with that).

He puts on his professorial hat in chapter two (titled, “The Trunk”). Here he talks about Kotov’s classic THINK LIKE A GRANDMASTER and its idea of analytical trees. And then we come to two very important paragraphs (talking about the calculation of “the trunk”, which is “a long, forcing variation practically devoid of alternatives.”):

“For less highly-skilled players, the main impediment is the need to accurately foresee each of the many positions that come up over the course of the calculation. Over a lengthy calculation, they are prone to lose the thread, and find themselves unable to continue the variation.

“But for trained chessplayers, too, there are difficulties – above all, psychological ones. The deeper one goes into the variation, the stronger grow the doubts: should I extend this line? Did I calculate everything correctly? Did I overlook something important? You can increase your confidence in your calculating by moving down the line without haste, stopping at each step to check carefully whether or not there might be a strong alternative, either for yourself or for your opponent.”
Very good stuff! It gives the advanced players lots to think about while, sadly, pretty much depressing the amateur who knows he will never be able to accurately calculate those lengthy variations. In my view, the problem the amateur faces with calculation isn’t necessarily the ability to see several moves ahead, it’s the ability to accurately assess the positions that are reached. As he moves from one position to another in his head while climbing up that analytical trunk, he will be stymied when the position calls for him to leave several pieces hanging at once, and/or by the need to end his analysis in a quiet position that calls for a serious strategic assessment. In other words, without knowing the building blocks of both tactical and positional chess (and these can take many years to fully absorb), all talk of deep calculations seem, to me, to be out of place and unrealistic.

None of this disparages Dvoretsky’s work in this book. It’s exceptional. But it does prove (in my opinion) that, while being a wonderful tool for strong masters, it’s certainly not for amateurs.

Moving ahead, things become more and more complex. Chapter Four (“Chess Botany – Variational Debris”) leaps into one’s ability to calculate in far greater detail. And Chapter Five (“Irrational Complications”) drags us into the world of chess intuition, and things become even more complicated.

There is a shocking amount of rich material in this book. After his discussions about calculation in chapters 1-7 (which he calls, “Immersion in the Position”), he goes into Endgame analysis (chapters 8-14), Games for Training Purposes (chapters 15-19), Practical Psychology (chapters 20-26), and finally Lasker the Great (chapters 27-33).

I found the chapters on psychology extremely interesting. But my favorite part of the book was Lasker the Great. I’m a huge Lasker fan and am always looking for new material on this legend. Naturally, these Lasker chapters are mostly made up of deeply annotated Lasker games, but here the notes seemed a bit more “human” to me, though this might just be my Lasker man-love showing.

DVORETSKY’S ANALYTICAL MANUAL is a magnificent piece of work. In fact, if I were still playing, I would make a serious effort to read the whole thing (most likely doing one example a week). But make no mistake about it: this book demands a huge amount of effort from any master (or higher) player that reads it. Non-masters would simply be overwhelmed (in fact, many masters will be overwhelmed!).

A case in point: When I handed the book to a 1700 rated student of mine, she quietly opened it up, looked at it for a couple minutes, closed it, handed it back, and said, “I would use it for a pillow.”

Ah, if only pillow to brain osmosis really worked!

DVORETSKY’S ANALYTICAL MANUAL gets my highest recommendation for those 2200 and above. But it receives no recommendation at all for those below this level.

Click to buy (or get more information about): DVORETSKY'S ANALYTICAL MANUAL

Other excellent books by Mark Dvoretsky:

DVORETSKY'S ENDGAME MANUAL (2nd Edition)

SCHOOL OF FUTURE CHAMPIONS 1: SECRETS OF CHESS TRAINING

SCHOOL OF FUTURE CHAMPIONS 2: SECRETS OF CHESS TRAINING

SCHOOL OF FUTURE CHAMPIONS 3: SECRETS OF CHESS TRAINING

SCHOOL OF CHESS EXCELLENCE 4: OPENING DEVELOPMENTS

SCHOOL OF CHESS EXCELLENCE VOLUME 3: STRATEGIC PLAY