Everybody searches for the Holy Grail of “rapid chess improvement,” and while this book has a few interesting theories and may work for a certain type of player, in many areas its content comes off more as infomercial than instruction manual. The author definitely has a story to tell, and he enthusiastically tells it. My guess is that many players can improve by rigorously following the training program developed, but I am less certain that they can or will reach the lofty levels the author suggests based on this program alone.

The author, rated 2041 by the United States Chess Federation, uses his own chess improvement as the primary example of the strength of his thesis. According to the introduction, he rose from a 1321 rating to 1756 in his first year of tournament play, and he improved from 1756 to 2041 in the second year. This book explains the system the author used for that ratings rise.

The author starts with an introduction where he discusses some of the problems with standard chess instruction. His first three insights make a lot of sense and should prove useful for many aspiring adult players. He suggests, for example, that study of sophisticated techniques (in particular studying trendy openings) is less useful than focusing on tactics. While certainly not a new concept (Ken Smith of Chess Digest fame had written a study program focusing on tactics many years back – which is available, free of charge, on the Chess Digest website), it is the crux of the author’s improvement program.

The author also suggests that GM instruction is sub-optimal at the class level, because they are too far removed from the players’ level. I thought the author’s analogy – that a university mathematics professor would probably not do as well as a first grade teacher in explaining basic math to 6 years – a good one. He also suggests that quick fixes (i.e., focusing study on tactics) works at the class level.

Up to this point, I think the author makes a lot of good, useful points. However, I think he starts to go over the deep end in his discussion of “the mythology of chess mastery.” de la Maza believes that “anyone who can read and write fluently in a language and can ride a bike can become an Expert and probably a Master.” I think this statement is highly improbable, and it can foster unreasonable expectations among readers.

First, I believe that it is hard to make generalizations about the ability necessary to attain a class in chess when one hasn’t even attained it. While the author’s meteoric rise would suggest that he will indeed make master, there are many tactically adept players who do, indeed, rise quickly to the expert level (or the A level for that matter), only to stall and find progress difficult at that point. In my experience, those who stall are often players who have not developed a rounded game. At higher levels, defensive technique is much better, and tactics alone will not get one to the level of Master.

Second, simple logic and statistics suggests that this is sheer fantasy. It is likely that somewhere in the range of 95% of chess players would meet the author’s qualifications, yet only about 5% will make master. Can one really accept as valid the concept that all the chess teachers (many of whom stress tactics as a core of their study programs) have it wrong and that the author alone can stand the statistics entirely on their head?

The author attempts to justify his claim by using an example of a person seeking specialized knowledge in a field, such as archaeology. He believes that after a two-year course of study at a local university he would know more than 99% of the people in the world about archaeology. He then figures out the number of hours of study and concludes that becoming an accomplished chess player should take approximately 2400. To his credit, the author recognizes the problem here – an accomplished chess player (which I’ll define as a Master) is determined in a comparison of only serious players, not the general population. The author never really has an answer to this, so he switches to an argument that (according to USCF data) one can be in the top 7-11% of all chess players with a 1900 rating, which he would now use as the validity for his archaeology example.

Indeed, the author even admits that perhaps a “special gift” is necessary to get to the highest level. He hedges that admission by noting that “several authorities, most notably Laszlo Polgar, would argue that chess perfection is a product of nurture, not nature.” It is true that the elder Polgar can make a strong case given the early chess training provided to his daughters, but it should be pointed out that this training started at a very early age and continued for a long time – it is farfetched to suggest that the author’s suggested time commitment comes even remotely close to the program developed for the Polgar sisters.

Given the inability to prove his assertion, it is surprising that the author concludes the section by summarizing that “becoming an Expert or a Master can be achieved over time through hard work – a special gift is helpful but is definitely not necessary.” I can only say, “I doubt it.”

The primary content of the book consists of several chess vision drills that the author explains in the next two chapters. These include a variety of exercises, which are generally useful but by not means revolutionary. The gist of the author’s approach is for the student to dedicate significant amounts of time over a several week period to doing these exercises and solving the problems.

The primary technique is to gather 1000 typical game problems with tactical solutions and work through them at an ever-increasing rate. Under this plan, the student will go through the same problems seven times (hence the title of the chapter, “The Seven Circles”). The student will first go through the problems in 64, 32, 16, 8, 4, 2 and 1 day. According to the author, this will build calculation and then pattern recognition ability.

It is up to the player to find the 1,000 problems; they are not included in the book. This could, of course, hamper the ability of some players to benefit from the book. The author recommends using a software program from Chess Assistant, known as CT-ART 3.0; while this is a useful tool for this exercise, it will require an additional $26 investment. The author provides a list of recommended books with usable problems if one does not wish to go the computer software route; I would agree with the author that this alternate route is a lot more time consuming.

The book concludes with a chapter on How to Think that strikes me as elementary bordering on pedantic, another on practical tactics, and chapters that mostly work as infomercials for the author’s teaching methods.

In conclusion, I really had a hard time giving a numerical assessment to this book. I do not deny that the author’s teaching method will prove useful to some players, but there are lots of things that also caused me to roll my eyes while reading it. I think the author presents a reasonable but far from revolutionary approach. It will be up to the individual reader to determine whether he or she needs to spend $17 (or more, if you go the recommended software route for problem) for a basic method for improvement plus a pep talk.

Click to see Donaldson’s or Silman’s reviews of this book.

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