Genna Sosonko's THE RELIABLE PAST is a set of articles that Sosonko wrote for New in Chess Magazine, along with some added material. It is the follow-up volume to his RUSSIAN SILHOUETTES (2001), which I enthused over in an earlier review (click to see reviews of SILHOUETTES by Donaldson and Watson). This volume is equally well written and fascinating. As in SILHOUETTES, Sosonko (who left in USSR in 1972) tells of various players from the erstwhile Soviet Union with whom he was personally acquainted. This time he includes three players from the West (Tony Miles, Jan Timman, and Max Euwe), and also talks about players that he had not previously known until they met in the West.

I actually read the entire book, which in itself tells you how much I liked it since I only have time to read a fraction of the chess books that come my way. As in his previous volume, this is a book of pure narrative without any games. Sosonko tells his stories about these often-eccentric personalities with a tone that often lapses into the melancholy and poetic. Every player gets a thoughtful and sympathetic treatment, even when Sosonko is critical. For example, Gufeld receives the toughest treatment (although less so than it could have been) in a chapter entitled “Death of a Salesman”. Yet Sosonko recounts the harshness of his upbringing and his self-expressed need to fight by whatever means necessary when he was growing up. In the end, Sosonko says simply, “I think that he was essentially a very lonely man,” an impression left upon many of us in view of his strained geniality that transformed so instantly into anger.

A list of players covered might be helpful here: Sosonko calls his chapter on Tony Miles “The Cat that walked by himself” and the one on Viktor Korchnoi “Obsession.” There is a lengthy portrait of Vladimir Bagirov, another complex character with several sides to his personality and career. And Anatoly Lutikov, an addicted attacker who beat so many of the greats but never studied, and died in poverty. The most nostalgic chapter, called simply “The Club,” deals with the USSR Central Chess Club, the meeting place of greats, and its memorable caretakers. Max Euwe is given the greatest respect in passing through ages both historical and chessic, even in the period when his political prejudices blinded him to reality. One of my favorite chapters is the short one on the great Salo Flohr, a world championship contender who is probably already forgotten by the young players and soon to be disappearing under time's shadow from most of our books. There are many such players today who but for chance circumstance would be guaranteed a more prominent place in history.

Sosonko's final contribution is his satirical account of the future of chess (“Beijing 2024”). He may have felt the piece to be hilarious as wrote it, but it left me flat. Perhaps I was still under the influence of the darker writing that preceded it, or possibly his sense of humor doesn't yet translate to paper.

On top of all that I forgot to mention the many photos of players and surroundings. This book, like its predecessor, is highly recommended to any fan of the game and may deeply affect those from an older generation.