Watson's new book has been in the works for a long time. Whenever I'd call him, he'd be slaving over it. Months went by and still the poor guy ground out one page after another, trying to reach the unreachable as he lusted, clawed and typed his way towards perfection.

Of course, reality reared its ugly head on several occasions. Self-loathing set in when John realized that he hated everything he had done--this lengthened the writing process by a couple of years when he trashed it and started from scratch. Next came Gambit's refusal to place his work in two 350 page volumes. Instead, they settled for the single 272 pager that's now available at a store (or modem) near you.

Having always considered Watson to be one of the best chess writers in the world as far as opening theory was concerned, I was positive he could translate that talent into other areas of the game. Now, having finally gotten a copy, and after having devoured it from cover to cover, I can say that his actual accomplishment far exceeded the bar that I had set for him. In fact, he did too good a job!

How, you may ask, can an author do too good a job? Well, he stepped beyond the boundaries of the "good old boy" network by offering up information that was supposed to stay secret. By doing so, he's made liars and fools out of most masters, and he's confused the chess-playing masses to such a degree that teaching the game may never be the same again!

All chess books fit into neat categories: they show master games, they try to teach you something about the opening, middlegame or endgame, or they overwhelm your senses with the strong scents and sounds of chess history. Watson's book does a little of the latter, but it also sets itself apart from the rest by attempting to smash down the long-revered house of holy chess doctrines.

An atheist and pragmatist, John attacks our ideas of what we think is true with a relish, logic and verve that leaves us empty, bereaved and grasping for something solid to hold onto.

"Throw all those chess rules in the garbage!" screams our anti-hero.

"Everything you've been told is a lie!" he intones in a voice that borders on the reverential.

"Great players become great only when they can free themselves from the shackles of dogma!" Hey! Didn't I say that first? At this point, I'm confusing myself to no end.

Is the good Mr. Watson a maniac? Does he have any idea what he's talking about? Though I would like to cover the tracks of "rule mongers" like myself, John doesn't leave good enough alone with his doctrine of chess chaos. Instead, he systematically proves his contentions word by word, chapter by chapter.

I can only guess that this chess anti-Christ doesn't quite understand what he's doing to the ordinary player. There's poor Joe Chess: He learns the basic rules, and takes to heart the golden bits of advice that we all grew up on: "Avoid bad bishops!" scream the classicists. Watson quotes grandmaster Suba: "Bad bishops protect good pawns." He then implores us to give those bad bishops the love they so desperately deserve.

"Always attack a pawn chain at its base." is another pearl of wisdom handed down to us from the high priests of chess understanding. Watson shows us why such a line of pawns should often be attacked at the head of the chain!

And on an on it goes: backward pawns turn out to be good, doubled pawns are virtually money in the bank, you should sacrifice a pawn for positional considerations in at least 50% of your games and, to shorten a very long list--knights (surprise!) should always be placed on the rim.

Would Joe Chess survive the destruction of everything he holds dear?

It's said that a disciple once asked Jesus why he never talked about the Ten Commandments and instead concentrated on espousing a philosophy of love. His reply: "If a person understands the nature of reality then no commandments are necessary. But if a person doesn't understand what's really happening, then ten times ten times ten commandments won't be enough."

This gets to the core of what's happening in chess, and why writers such as myself are often looked upon as priests--as handlers of the holy chess truths. Now this renegade international master has exposed me (and others of my ilk!) as a false priest. Deliberately offering recommendations that will soothe your ups and downs in the chess world, trusting players grasp onto our words as gospel and, as a result, become trapped in our webs of half-truths and pompous promises. Watson, like Nimzowitsch before him, tries to set you free by force-feeding you information that you may not be ready for. Indeed, after reading Watson's ground breaking tome, you may toss the book into the fire and feverishly dream of simpler, more innocent days when the full, horrifying import of Watson's words weren't downloaded into your brain.

Like a snake with an apple on its head, Watson lures you to his side with beautifully presented facts, wonderful examples, sharp humor and more original prose than I've ever seen in this class of book. In Part One, he sets you up by discussing familiar ideas. Part Two tears your world down with chapters like "The New Morality of Bad Bishops" and "Rule Independence: the demise of the general rule."

This is not a book of instruction! He isn't teaching you anything (though, ironically, you will learn a lot!). Instead, he wants you to be aware of how chess should really be played. He wants you to think on your own and step beyond what you've been told. Backing his arguments up by numbers and percentages, the fact-numbed reader might think that he has no other option than to acquiesce to Watson's point of view. But is Watson's truth beneficial to non-professional players? I honestly don't think it is. Beginners, needing a foundation upon which to start, should embrace those rules and ignore John's intellectual ravings. Stronger players, however, will do themselves a favor by savoring everything Watson has said, and running it all through their mind for quite a long time.

Having had fun with my good friend, I must say that I'm amazed at how good this book really is. No, it's not a book of instruction, but it's one hell of a fine read and promises you a deep glimpse into philosophical areas previously reserved for the chess elite.

It also pleases me to think how, having trashed the very precepts of "chess religion," he risks creating one of his own (the sweet irony!).

In my mind, this has already won the 1999 Book of the Year.

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