Unlike a lot of other reviewers I'm not going to tell you that this book is about chess. It isn't. It's a coming-of-age story involving a solitary young woman with an extraordinary gift. Chess is just the idiom author Walter Tevis ("The Color of Money", "The Hustler" and "The Man Who Fell To Earth") uses to propel Beth Harmon's life story. I find it interesting that of all the books mentioned each is about a solo artist perfecting their craft in a very unusual way. That being said, it's impressive that Tevis was able to imagine the trials and tribulations of an adolescent girl so finely.

If you've come here after (or even before) watching "The Queen's Gambit" on Netflix you can take solace in the fact that the miniseries shows a very high level of fidelity to the book. There are some subtle differences; whether they add or detract or don't affect the story is up to you, dear reader, to decide.

The miniseries puts some of Beth's thoughts or internal dialogue into the mouths of the other characters (there are no important "surprise" characters in the book that aren't in the series, by the way); the writing is spare, almost spartan, and reflects a perfectly played game of chess. There are no fripperies in Tevis' story, not a wasted phrase: "Mrs. Wheatley did not look right . . . Mrs. Wheatley was dead."

Beth Harmon's world is rather gray and colorless, at least until she sits behind a chessboard. Then life comes dramatically alive. She is lonely, though she doesn't realize it. Her immersion in chess is so complete that other people move in and out of her life, sometimes barely registering. She has some (ultimately unsatisfying) intimate relationships. The ones with men revolve around chess. The ones with women revolve around loss. Although Beth has singular internal resources, she can't always keep the loneliness at bay.

As a child in the orphanage she's fed Librium to keep her docile. This was a policy in many institutions in the 1950s and 1960s, and the sudden declaration that it equaled abuse led to many addiction problems and even deaths as the children suffered through withdrawal. Clever Beth always manages to beg, borrow, and steal to feed her pill addiction. As an older teen she turns to alcohol, more disastrously, until she's faced with the fact that she may have destroyed "her gift" through substance abuse (this scene is not in the miniseries).

Her showdown with the fearsome Russian Grandmaster Vasily Borgov (she's less fearful of his chess skills than of him) really proves that none of us can make it alone, that in order to be a fully complete human being we have to be open and vulnerable. Her life is a Queen's Gambit. In the end, when she says, "Let's play" she isn't talking just about her beloved chess, she's talking about loving life itself.

"The Queen's Gambit" is short, quick and easy to read, and is surprisingly profound. Viewers of the miniseries will find depth here; readers considering the miniseries will find color and action there. Either way, I recommend it.

Beth is a chess prodigy, possessed of a natural talent for the game. Such people are rare but do exist. I found the book very enjoyable with Beth a very engaging character. Tevis writes well and the book is fast-moving, filled with believable characters. I would recommend this book highly to people who know nothing about chess. I might suggest, if this book is ever revised, that more explanation go into the chess notation as that would make the book more enjoyable for those who can't read the notation. (And maybe, replace descriptive notation with algebraic.)

Unfortunately, if I were writing this review for a publication like Chess Life, read by knowledgeable chess players, I would give this book only 3 stars. The chess world presented in this book is not very true to life. Here are some of the problems I see:

Beth enters a state tournament and wins, having studied chess from Modern Chess Openings (MCO). Yes, even prodigies have to study the game, but Beth doesn't study the middlegame or endgame?

Well into her career, Beth is still studying the games of Paul Morphy. Morphy was a genius for his time (1850-60's) but today, his chess knowledge is primitive. It would be of little use.

Beth studies openings she prefers from the aforementioned MCO such as the Sicilian Defense. She then goes to a tournament and is apparently surprised when her opponent responds to pawn to king 4 (e4) with pawn to king 4 (e5). Some surprise! About 40% of king pawn openings begin this way! Beth can't be choosy about the openings she wants to learn because opponents might not respond the way she wants.

Beth is recognized as a person with a rare gift by both her school principal and a local chess club president after she puts on an astounding demonstration of her skill. But then they ignore her! Huh? When Fischer was a young prodigy, New York's most prestigious chess clubs were fighting tooth and nail to get him as a member. A person of this talent lends prestige to a chess club or a private school!

Beth's games all seem to end at about 30 moves. Highly unlikely! Although she is reportedly a great attacking player, even the greatest attackers in chess history, like Alekhine and Fischer, played many endgames.

There are far too few drawn games. At high level tournament play, draws account for about half the game results. Yet Beth and the fictional world champion seem to win tournaments with scores of 7-0. I think Beth is reported to have only one drawn game! More commonly, a round robin of 8 players would be won by a score of, say, 3 wins, 3 draws, and 1 loss.

Beth struggles to find money to enter tournaments. Again, with her talent and being a woman chess master in a man's world, this would be unlikely. The U.S. Government, during the cold war, would have probably found money to send her to Russia, but if not, there would have been private sponsorship.

As already noted by other reviewers, there are a few technical problems with the game descriptions, where for example, Beth, with the white pieces, plays black's move in a Sicilian.

All in all, an enjoyable book, although the world of chess is fanciful.

Of course I came to *Queen's Gambit* the novel after watching the Netflix miniseries, which I really enjoyed, but what really made me read the book was an article by Sarah Miller in The New Yorker in which she really praises it as her "platonic ideal of a novel" (Michael Ondaatje, author of The English Patient is said to re-read it "for the pure pleasure and skill of it.") To my surprise, I found in QG a formidable book that quietly but decidedly seized me the same way a chess grandmaster would besiege the king from her opponent. And it did so not with pomp and circumstance or bold stylistic outbursts but because of its carefully crafted frugality and simplicity. That came to me almost as an irony, because I had then just finished a sequence of books by Ian McEwan (Atonement, Nutshell, and then Amsterdam) and there couldn't have been a greater contrast than McEwan's nearly self-indulgent digressive style (however enjoyable it may be) and Tevis's frugal, self-controlled and self-contained moderation. Still, Tevis's simple, sharp and sometimes short sentences carry great power I've learned to admire, and that is maybe what Miller and Ondaatje were talking about. 

I was really surprised by how the novel was copy-pasted almost word by word to the screen. There is very little 'adaptation' as much as sheer 'transcription'. The great dialogs of the novel are reproduced verbatim in the miniseries, which speaks a lot about how good Tevis's text is. But I agree with those who believe something is lost in this translation. For one, Sarah Miller in The New Yorker says Anya Taylor-Joy is just too pretty to play ugly-duckling Beth Harmon, and that simple fact almost subliminally leads to her being portrayed as a much more self-confident character than she is in the book. That is true, but I think it is still not it.

Tevis excels in something that is very subtle and silent: he has the ability to carefully control the tone of the text, especially in scenes of intense emotion, disorientation, or even tragedy. That does not mean he just moves away into a cold, distant narration (Camus' The Stranger) or that he purposefully ignores the tension and waters the text down, because the tension is still there all the time (and the last chapters with the games with Luchenko and Borgov are like magnets, I couldn't stop reading them), but it comes pure, almost primitive, certainly non-judgmental (which contrasts with Tevis's advocating, almost preaching style in the previously written sci-fi Mockingbird.) Here, Tevis lets us enter Beth's mind and think with her with no prejudice. We move with her and witness her victories and failures just as if objectively watching her move the pieces in her chess board. Someone has said that Tevis in The Hustler is like Hemingway in Death in the Afternoon. The way Tevis deals with Beth's problems with liquor, strangely enough, made me think of Hemingway's describing (in a underplayed, almost tender way) the misfortunes of Santiago in The Old Man and the Sea.

And that is exactly where I think the miniseries misses the point. The few changes made in the screen adaptation were all towards 'raising the tone', making it more intense and sentimental (sometimes even corny), or alternatively to provoke awe or shock. There is none of that in the book. And those minor changes end up making a big difference in how we even judge Beth's gift as a chess player.

A friend of mine commented that the miniseries does not make it crystal clear whether Beth is a truly talented chess player or can only play well because of the hallucinations she gets by ingesting large amounts of green pills. Maybe the intention was to add more drama to Beth's chemical dependence, but that is not really the case in the novel (there, it is clear that Beth wants to remain 'clean' because that worsens her performance, which seems to come as a very personal, autobiographical trace of Tevis's himself.) But the important point is: she is an extraordinary chess player, period.

This is quite important, because by putting her chess talent into question, the miniseries tones down Beth's own command as a character. Indeed, although Beth is more fragile and less confident in the book than in the miniseries, she has way much more control over her own destiny in the novel (she does get help from friends but that help comes in subtly different ways): when deciding to learn more about chess, when dealing with and escaping her addictions, even at her final game with Borgov. The simple fact that in the book people don't drop in front of Beth's house out of the blue (which annoyingly happens all the time in the miniseries) is in itself full of meaning. All that makes QG, the novel written in 1983, a much sharper and more radical statement about the power of women than QG, the miniseries produced 37 years later, which makes Tevis's work even more relevant and remarkable.

I’m a great fan of The Queen’s Gambit streaming series, having watched it three times. It’s a great series that can be read as a coming-of-age story about a young chess prodigy – or as a feminist tale of a woman striving towards the top of a man’s world. And, of course, as both.

The book and series are notably faithful to each other, with each offering insights that are unique to their storytelling forms.

As a reader would expect, the book contains more background color about the characters themselves (except for the protagonist’s friend Jolene, a pivotal character who is developed more assertively in the streaming series). The book reader also gets more of the protagonist’s family backstory: how did she become an orphan? And what was her actual family background? These elements are mostly absent from the book. The book excels at taking you inside the story’s chess play, describing the decisions made – interpreting the otherwise cryptic moves, so the reader has a technical context for better understanding them. (It won’t make you a chess expert; it will make you better appreciate some of the complexities beneath the chessboard.)

Where the streaming series excels over the book is in its wonderful attention to period detail: we’re shown the protagonist’s world of the United States, Mexico, and Russia in the 1960s. That detail is captured richly and well, at least to someone who lived through a part of that time and remembers it. Very little of this element comes through the pages of the book.

It's worth noting that the story as told via both media ends too abruptly -- the book even more so. Both would have benefited well from more of a denouement.

The feminist theme of the book and streaming series is particularly well done. Both media invoke the reality of the times they’re depicting with clarity – but without hammering the reader/viewer over the head: “see how awful women had it back then? See how hard they had to work to overcome male bias?” No, it’s not a feminist manifesto. It’s a story well told that is both faithful to its times and prescient in that it heralds a time when women can truly "master” a male-dominated pursuit such as chess.

In summary, the book is worth reading in its own right. And it perhaps serves best to enhance one’s understanding of the streaming series, making that excellent production more nuanced, well-rounded, and comprehensible. I strongly advise consuming the story via both media: book and streaming series. I don't think the order in which they're consumed matters that much. But if you can only consume this story via one media, reach for your remote. It's well cast and well acted, and the period detail alone is worth watching.

THE QUEEN'S GAMBIT was recommended to me by a friend whose reading tastes are similar to my own or I would not have given it a second glance. I had no idea it was made into a series until I saw the cover (even on the Kindle version). I do not see how a movie could possibly capture the exciting nuances of the book, but I tend to be prejudiced towards a book, anyway.

I loved this book! I know nothing of chess, even what the pieces look like, and yet, though maybe 20% of the book was relating chess moves, I read every word with utter fascination. It is written so well that you can feel all the emotions of the players as the pieces are moved -- the confidence, then fear; the elation, shock, puzzlement, confusion, disappointment, gratification, anticipation; the utter concentration as infinite scenarios play quickly through the player's mind. Chess has a complexity and an intensity beyond any sport. The Chess Masters remember every move in every game they have ever played, plus they study, and remember, all the games by other Masters and Grand Masters. Our heroine, Beth, studies other games 6 or 8 hours a day, sometimes more. She is an interesting character and we do not so much like her as feel sympathetic towards her. We root for her from the beginning. We feel her disappointments and her joys. Do not think this is a boring book! It is an engrossing, compelling, feel-good book that I did not want to end, and which I cannot stop thinking about.

A note about the writing style: The book is written in very simple prose, simple sentences, an almost plodding style, and yet it works quite well. It is somewhat like the game of chess itself, which has simple rules but is deceptively complex. It is perhaps because of the simple sentences that we are startled into feeling the intensity of Beth's feelings, the desolation of her early life, her innocence, her loneliness, her determination and drive, as well as the pace of the game she lives for. I have read nothing else by this author, but I am inclined to believe that this style was consciously chosen specifically to enhance the subject matter.

Notes about other criticisms of the book: Several reviewers were appalled by what they referred to as the "sexual assault" by a slightly older orphan on 8-year-old Beth, which occurred in the early chapters, in the orphanage. Yes, I found it uncomfortable to read, but it is more like childhood exploration, closer to innocence than assault, and not dwelled upon. It helps establish the lack of maturity of Beth at this time. Others thought this was a feminist book, but the only gender issue here is that Beth is entering a world largely dominated by men. It is just a truth that she has to overcome her intimidation -- it has nothing to do with feminism. Other readers think it is anti-Christian, but the fact that it is fundamentalists doing the bullying does not make it anti-Christian. They could be anyone. The bullies are two specific people who bully her, two women who hide behind their ideology. Beth has no particular ideology. The Christians here are just cyphers for bullies, vehicles used to establish Beth's recognition of the bullying and her eventual resistance to it. Beth certainly has flaws, and we are not asked to like her or to approve of all her actions, but rather to understand her in all her complexities and conflicts.

I came to this book after watching and enjoying (twice) the recent miniseries version of The Queen's Gambit. I am sure that there are many who have done the same thing, curious to see how the book might differ from the excellent Netflix production. I also was hoping to find enough new and different in the book to hold my interest, and to enhance my enjoyment of a story that I already knew.

It is remarkable to see how this story, written by Walter Tevis and first published in 1983 - nearly 40 years ago! - has emerged from obscurity to become a phenomenon. It is a timeless story of a young woman, Beth Harmon, who succeeds in a field previously (and still) dominated by men. It is also the tragic story of a lonely girl who is blessed with an extraordinary ability almost certainly inherited from her mother, who was a PhD in Mathematics before her tragic death, which led to Beth's being sent to an orphanage at the age of 9. She develops an interest in chess and is given her early instruction in the game by the custodian at the Methuen Home for Girls. The story traces her career from a young chess prodigy, who wins the first tournament that she enters, through to the conclusion of her dramatic trip to Soviet Russia and match against the Russian Grandmaster Vasily Borgov.

Reflecting on the Netflix miniseries, I think that a great deal of its success is due to the decision to produce the story as a 7 episode miniseries, thereby providing roughly 7 hours total to tell the story in a way that fully captures the Tevis book. The remarkable Anya Taylor-Joy, who portrays Beth Harmon in the miniseries, is also superb.

And how does the book compare to the miniseries? From the beginning and through about the two-thirds point in the book they are almost identical, to the point that many of the spoken lines from the miniseries are taken directly from the book. At that two-thirds point, there begin to emerge some differences, with a couple of story elements either omitted from the miniseries, or changed to fit the dramatic objectives of the modern producer. I did not feel that any of the changes made for the miniseries were poor decisions, but neither do I conclude that the book is superior.

In the end they are both telling the same story, with differences in detail that don't necessarily favor one over the other. For those who have seen the miniseries, the book will not add a lot to that experience. Those who read the book first may have a different feeling, one that I'm not in a position to represent.

Either way, this is a fine story. I'm now inclined to explore the works of Walter Tevis further! My reading list:

The Hustler First published in 1959, made into a feature film in 1961 starring Paul Newman

The Man Who Fell to Earth First published in 1963, also a feature film and television series

Mockingbird First published in 1980

Far From Home Short story collection first published in 1981

The Steps of the Sun First published in 1983

The Queen's Gambit First published in 1983 (book reviewed here)

The Color of Money First published in 1984, sequel to The Hustler, made into a feature film in 1986 starring Paul Newman and Tom Cruise

This book has been on my shelf for about 30 years. I bought it originally because I had met the author shortly before his death. I was working as a patient escort in the hospital where he was receiving treatment. He was well-mannered, but terribly bitter, which I suppose is understandable if one knows he’s dying of cancer. I had put off reading the book because I was afraid it would be a bitter book. Nothing could be more wrong. This is a book that is doggedly upbeat. Beth Harmon is a plain and unloved child who is put in an orphanage after her mother is killed in an auto accident. She lives a lonely life with only two friends. One is a tall black girl who is also unloved; the other is a secret friendship with the orphanage’s old janitor, who teaches her the game of chess. Chess is a life-saving and inspirational experience for her that she becomes obsessed with. She is a true prodigy with a natural gift for the game. It’s chess that gives her the only real joy in her life. But she also needs love and emotional support from other humans. In childhood, she begins using tranquilizers that were distributed free in the orphanage at first, until it was declared that they were unsafe. When they become unavailable she begins stealing them. She occasionally seals money, too. In her mid-teens her adoptive mother gives her a beer, which she takes to like a duck to water. Beth is a very believable character. I’m surprised that a male author could write such a convincing adolescent girl. The novel follows her chess career from playing with the janitor in the school basement to the major world tournament against the world’s top player, a Russian grand master, at the height of the Cold War. Can she beat him? Or will she fall prey to her addictions, as she has several times before? This is an extremely suspenseful drama that I had difficulty putting down. For sheer entertainment, I don’t think I’ve read anything that can beat it in at least ten years. And I know next to nothing about chess. This is book is beautiful and compassionate, as well as suspenseful. Five stars.

While reviewing chess books, I used to be very critical of perceived issues. For example, giving GM Jesse Kraai'sLisa: A Chess Novelthree stars for some lewd discussion despite greatly enjoying the plot.The Queens Gambithas significantly more moral qualms than Kraai's Lila, yet I'm giving this book four stars anyway. Why? Partially because I'm better at influencing my reflection now - I don't need to dwell on perceived moral issues. I used to actively reflect on almost everything I read to aid my learning - not a good habit for bad influences. Second, I'm trying to focus more on the good from what I read and be less harsh with my judgments, especially when I'm unfamiliar with better books in the relevant genre. If I can't recommend a better alternative, what's the point in being critical? Personally, I'm happy to get back to reading about chess, and this book was a low-effort way for me to reimmerse into a chess mindset.

Now for my experience! It took around 3-4 hrs to finish and was a fun way to spend time on the airplane... and while waiting to finish off a world-open opponent who was down three pawns and wouldn't resign. Perhaps I wasn't supposed to read during the game...!? Whoops! My friend & student Ian Jackson deeply enjoyedThe Queens Gambita few years ago and read it several times. In the following months, Ian studied a lot of chess and was the most active tournament player in TN, so I'd imagine that he was inspired at least in part by this book.

I would like to believe I had a similar experience watching The Queen's Gambit last year - I felt like my chess ambitions were more meaningful, and my passion for chess grew as well. What about my supposed moral qualms? Well, there are drugs/alcohol/casual sex, among other issues. I'd not recommend this book for kids, to say the least. Teens and young adults may enjoy it, although some may find some of the main character's choices to be distasteful, to say the least. If you enjoyed the show, I'd imagine you will also like this book. The chess drama doesn't always make sense either because of technical inaccuracies, though I'm willing to forgive those as well. $1.69 is quite cheap so the main question is if you are interested.

Worth the read and price? You can decide for yourself. Hopefully, my review helps offer some context.

Meticulously written, not a word too much, mostly just describing what happens, not falling into the trap of familiar tropes, The Queen’s Gambit is such a tender and warm and generous book. Beth Harmon is not playing chess against grandmasters, she’s playing against herself. And isn’t that what we all are doing?

Fora um detalhe menor ou outro tudo que foi retratado na série está no livro. Ao invés de reassistir a série eu estou lendo o livro e está sendo bem legal. Recomendo.

Livre absolument passionnant qui se lit comme une vraie partie d’échecs et qui vous tient en haleine jusqu’à la fin. Je n’arrivais pas à le poser… cela explique d’une façon fascinante comment un grand champion visualise les parties, c’est impressionnant.

Très intéressant, à lire!

Delivered as promised. Must read before watching the series. Excellent read for chess enthusiasts ♟️

Insuperable Walter Tevis con este libro, la serie le hace justicia y las licencias que se toma, son validas en pos de un drama soberbio.