The good books about the game are extremely rare. I am only acquainted with four of them. Firstly, there is "The Chess Player" by Zweig, which delves deep into the mind of a chess enthusiast. Then, there is "Loujine defense" by Nabokov, presenting a unique perspective on the game. "Little chess player" by Ogawa is also a remarkable work. And finally, there is this particular one.

He is truly exceptional. The Go is a very special game. As time progresses, territory is occupied, and it serves as a brain representation. Checker movements draw waves, attacks, and ideas. I firmly believe that Go is a reflection of oneself.

There are two players: the old master personifies the eternal old Japan, while the young master represents the future. The story is derived from a real party that took place after the Second World War.

It doesn't matter which one gains victory; the challenge lies elsewhere. With the end of the old Master, a certain idea of Japan disappears.

In addition to this reading, I highly recommend a Swiss film by Richard Dembo, "La diagonale du fou", which won the Oscar for the best foreign film in 1985. This film further enriches the understanding and appreciation of the game and its related themes.

How does a book centered around a go game manage to win the Nobel Prize for Literature? (In truth, it was the author, Kawabata, who received the award, but this book is widely regarded as his finest work and likely the one that clinched the Nobel for him.) To truly understand what this book is like, one must read it. It is a semi-fictional account of an actual game between a highly respected reigning master and a rising young champion who is destined to unseat him. Yes, I just revealed the ending, but it's pretty much given away from the start, and the "plot" of this novel isn't about who wins the game. Based on an actual game and real figures in the go world, it was written by Yasunari Kawabata, a go reporter, in serialized form in 1938.

Go is often described as a metaphor for life, God, the soul of Japan, a game with infinitely layered meanings as complex as the universe itself. I have dabbled in go myself and love the game, although I'm a very poor player and nowhere near good enough to appreciate the deep strategy required to read a player's personality and innermost feelings from a single move. Kawabata, an amateur as he repeatedly reminds us, but still quite good by amateur standards and familiar enough with the game to report on it for Japanese newspapers, describes not only the game between the Master and his challenger, Otake, but also how it reflects the arc of their personalities and the Master's past and Otake's future. The game takes place over a period of six months, with elaborate formal rules that are frequently renegotiated (the negotiations being a source of conflict and stress), regarding how many days of break will occur between each day of play and how many hours will be spent playing. This is not a game like the ones you or I would play sitting at a table for an afternoon. These two men sit down at the board and spend anywhere from 40 minutes to 3 hours contemplating their next move, and might play only five stones between them in an afternoon, then retire for a few days (or in some cases, due to health issues, weeks).

So, where does the drama and conflict come from in this slow, thoughtful game? Needless to say, there is no violence, no overturned boards or people drawing swords. (This was 1938, not 1638.) It comes from the author's observations about go, about the personalities, and about how go has changed as Japan is changing. There is much description of rooms, landscapes, trees, and weather, minute and delicate details that I've noticed are a common feature in Japanese novels. There is also a great deal of profiling of the two men. At one point, we learn that the Master is angry - even infuriated. But he doesn't show this by raising his voice or even changing his expression. It is expressed when, back in his room, he politely shakes his head over his opponent's play and discusses forfeiting. He is indignant when he believes that his opponent used a tactic (to call it a "trick" would be too strong) to gain time during a recess between sessions to think about his next move.

It is almost impossible to explain why this is a source of indignation if you don't know anything about go, and even if you do, it's still a bit unclear to an amateur Westerner like me. When reading this book, you are getting a deep, nuanced view of very traditional Japanese mindsets at a time of great change, when the country and the world were evolving beneath them. This one game is like a pond showing the ripples. And keeping in mind that not being Japanese, not being a master go player, and reading a translation, you are really seeing third-hand ripples reflected through a fuzzy lens. And yet, you can still follow Kawabata's thoughts and see the contrast between the Master and his opponent.

I wish, as I wished when I read Hikaru no Go, that I was good enough to look at a single move and appreciate its sublime brilliance, or how it casts a shadow over the board, or why go professionals can study and discuss one move and its many far-reaching implications and how it indicates that the player is aggressive, weak, uncertain, reckless, subtle, devious, or resolved, etc. The Master of Go is not exciting. You have to ease your mind into it. It's like staring at a painting by a master; you know you're looking at something brilliant, but the degree to which you can understand the brilliance may be somewhat limited. Yet, although the "story" is merely an account of a go game (and the formal social maneuvering surrounding it), there is a slow build-up of tension to a climax that is no less satisfying for your knowing how it ends. It's a very literary novel, and if you don't like Japanese literature, you probably won't like this book. However, while an appreciation for go will enhance your enjoyment of it, you don't need to know the game to read this book. They could just as easily be playing some other game - think of it as Vulcan checkers - and you'd still get the same sensory impressions and characterizations from the play even without having a clue about the rules. (The book does include diagrams of the game as it progresses, though - go students still study this game as one of the classics.) It's a quintessentially Japanese book, but I found the translation quite accessible. I know that both go mastery and Japanese fluency would make it infinitely more understandable, though.

A Journalistic Account of, Supposedly, the Biggest Go Game of the Last Century Described by a Nobel Prize Winner

Why I Read This Book

This book has been on my list for years. I love board games, especially chess (with which I am more familiar), but I have always had an attraction to the game of Go. Some things that might explain this attraction are the simplicity of the board and perhaps even more so, of the pieces (there are only white or black pieces) that are undifferentiated. The book is small and very well written.

Physical Aspects and Cost of the Book

The edition I read is from 'Estação Liberdade' and it is excellent. The layout facilitates reading. The edition I bought cost approximately R$ 45.00 and came with a personalized bookmark with the same theme as the cover of the book.

How Long I Took to Read This Book

I took approximately one week to read the book and, at that time, I was reading other books at the same time. I believe it can be read in less time by a reader with more time.

Characters and Story

The book deals with the last professional game of the, at the time, greatest Go master in Japan with a challenger who was selected through a championship similar to the candidates' tournament in chess - where the best in the world compete for an opportunity to challenge the current world champion. Yasunari Kawabata was, at the time, a Go reporter for a Japanese magazine and was chosen to cover the game, which lasted for months and had several game sessions. For those who like this type of account, the book is fantastic. It treats the two challengers in all aspects: their body position during the game, their dialogues, their diet and even their trips to the bathroom.

Rating for the Book

I give 4 stars to the book, but I believe that for an audience that does not like this type of account, it can be rated between 3 and 4 stars, since the description is really very curious and worth the time (since it is a relatively quick read).

Some people who know say that Mei Jin of Kowabata is not that great. Her work still has something better than this. But for those who have read Hikaruseian Goh and watched Satoshi A move for tomorrow (2016), it won't be difficult to be attracted to consider this statement.

After comparing, Satoshi and Goh in this volume are in a similar direction. That is, the outside is quiet, but the inside is so intense that it has reversed 555. The scene of the go match is even more exciting than when the new virus will land in Japan. Although both stories tell the result from the beginning, it doesn't make the excitement decrease. Instead, it becomes stronger and you have to follow the description of the tense situation. It's so excellent that you want to find more translations to read. I don't know if there are any.

P.S. One day, playing for 5-6 hours, you can only walk two steps, that is, you walk 2 steps all day and the rest sit and wait for the other side to think. Don't worry about it.

P.S. 2. Even if you don't play go like me, it's still fun to read.

I am in a club

of 1100 people

who have

read

the master of go

Hi Daruma. This club is a wonderful place where people gather because of their common interest in this remarkable work. The story of "The Master of Go" seems to have a unique charm that attracts so many of us. We come together to share our thoughts, feelings, and interpretations of the book. It's like a big family, and we all have a deep connection through this literary masterpiece. Hi Daruma, the author, has truly created something special that has brought us all closer.

We often have discussions and exchanges, which not only enrich our understanding of the story but also expand our perspectives. In this club, we can explore the profound themes and characters in "The Master of Go" and discover new insights every time. It's a place full of passion and enthusiasm for literature, and I'm so glad to be a part of it.

The master, by today's standards, wasn't a likable figure. He was maniacally fixated on gaming, not only Go but also Shogi, Mahjongg, and Korean chess. His approach was to wear out his opponents, meticulously analyzing each move in every game as if it were a decisive championship encounter. It was pure unadulterated analysis paralysis.

His challenger was even less endearing. He was all about discussing principles and exploiting any advantage within the rules, even if by traditional standards it might be regarded as trickery. He turned the master's own weapons against him, using an unprecedented amount of time in a Go match, a total of almost 35 hours. The master's final match was spread over 6 months, with a few months of hospitalization in between.

Kawabata, in his characteristic spare prose, relates the tale of this final match in 1938, which he witnessed as a newspaper reporter in real life. There is some fictionalization, in keeping with the Japanese form of shōsetsu, the 'chronicle-novel'. The zen-like nature of Go further contributes to a sense of reserve and inaccessibility when viewed from a different time and culture.

For a boardgame addict like myself, it's an almost perfect blend of literature and gaming. I'll have to read it again when I'm more familiar with the rules of Go. Without this knowledge, even more of the symbolic content is lost than is already typical for a Kawabata novel.

Spellbinding.

This work is written with sparse, impeccable prose, serving as both an elegy for a way of life and a tribute to a fascinating game. The narrative unfolds in a hypnotic non-linear fashion, constantly keeping us on the edge, within the realms of life and death, victory and defeat.

It takes the reader on a captivating journey, where the boundaries between the past and the present blur. The sparse prose allows for a vivid imagination, painting a picture that is both haunting and beautiful.

As we move through the story, we are drawn into the intense emotions and experiences of the characters, feeling their joys and sorrows as if they were our own. The non-linear structure adds an element of mystery and intrigue, making it impossible to predict what will happen next.

Overall, this is a truly remarkable piece of writing that will leave a lasting impression on anyone who reads it.

Well, I'm still not certain whether the issue lies in Kawabata's writing or Seidensticker's translating. However, I have a hunch that it's the latter. This is the second Seidensticker translation I've perused (with "Snow Country" being the first), and the lack of fluidity is extremely conspicuous. There is no rhythm or melody in his writing, making you feel as if you are traversing an incredibly bumpy path that takes unexpected turns constantly.

This further solidifies my conviction that translators must not only be proficient in both languages but also be excellent writers themselves in order to accurately translate someone else's work.

The exploration of the past and future, which was purportedly at the heart of this book, never truly took off. You merely discover that the Master was arbitrary and Otake was... what? Indecisive? Overly emotional? Excessively rule-bound? It is never clearly elucidated precisely what makes Otake emblematic of Japan's future, aside from the fact that he possesses certain personal traits that conflict with the Master's personal qualities. In fact, this is the problem with the book: instead of small observations aggregating into an overall picture, all you obtain are small observations scattered across a Go board without much strategy or purpose.

After he became the Master, the world firmly believed that he could not lose, and he himself also had to believe it. Therein lay the tragedy.

I first came across GO while reading Shibumi by Trevanian, and I was incredibly intrigued.

Now, I have delved into this beautiful and restrained elegy for a specific time in Japan's history, for the bygone sensibilities and rituals. And, of course, the intensity and subtleties of the game itself are an absolute joy to read about.

This is a very poignant and quiet story. It is a lovely read that takes you on a journey through a unique world, filled with the elegance and mystery of GO, and the complex emotions and pressures that come with being a master. It makes you reflect on the nature of success, failure, and the human spirit.

The author has done a wonderful job of creating a vivid and engaging narrative that keeps you hooked from start to finish. I highly recommend this book to anyone who loves a good story or has an interest in Japanese culture and the game of GO.

3.5 stars

I've just read an interesting article in The Japan Times. It's titled "An exploration of the great game at the heart of 'the Master of Go'" by Tyler Rothmar. The article informed its readers that the battle took place nearly six months ago and the victor was finalized exactly 78 years ago today (December 4, 2016). If you'd like to read the JT article, please visit this web page: [http://www.japantimes.co.jp/culture/2...]

Reading this novel by Kawabata is, I think, a bit different from reading his other three, namely, "Snow Country", "Thousand Cranes", and "The Sound of the Mountain". One of the reasons is that it primarily focuses on the ultimate Go competition between the Master (Shusai) and the challenger (Otake) of the Seventh Rank. The competition started on June 26, 1938 in Tokyo and ended on December 4 in Ito (p. 4). The match was amazingly tactical, highly professional and horribly fierce. Due to his age, health and frailty, the Master finally gave in at Black 237, the last play by his opponent. (p. 6, diagram p. 177)

I've known vaguely about this famous Japanese Go since years ago with admiration. As far as I know, those who play well deserve respects for their wisdom in planning, which includes tactics in both defending and attacking. However, I'm not a Go player and I wonder which needs higher skills between playing Go or chess, and again, what kind of chess. Then, in this context, we'd be content with the country, that is, Japan. Since I think it's not fair or sensible to compare between a master of Japanese Go and a master of, say, Thai chess.

Therefore, I read this book as a Go-illiterate outsider curious about such "a faithful chronicle-novel" (p. v). I found his writing style surprising due to its 41 chapters of various length. Moreover, this chronicle depicts an unthinkable Go competition on a presumably national scale. It's waged by fate dictating the two Go warriors who use the Go board as their battlefield till 2.42 p.m. on December 4, 1938. (p. 6) So we merely read their fighting moves, with each having different time intervals as controlled by the judges, the youth keeping the records and witnessed by the functionaries. Moreover, there're two sets of small numbered stones: Black 1, Black 3, Black 5... Black 237 for Otake vs. White 2, White 4, White 6... White 236 for the Master. We can see how they start the decisive match on the chess-like Go board denoted by lines 1-19 (row) and letters A-T (across). There, Otake's started at R-16 while the Master's followed at R-4 (p. 36).

I came across a remark stating that "the first player has seven chances in ten of winning" (p. 57). I think this is a good remark from Go experts that need pondering and applying from both the challenger and the master. It's quite fair to allow more luck/chance for an opponent while a master with his charismatic, godlike stature should be satisfied due to his sublime Go skills. Indeed, I think if the Master could play Go and happily lost, like Sakine, Master of Chess, he could have enjoyed living longer.

This is not a romantic novel like the other three mentioned above. Instead, it's a novel-like story of such spine-chilling Go competitions. I'm sorry I don't understand the description of the diagram on page 177, that is, I can't find Black 201 and 203 (B-13 and C-13). Therefore, I'd appreciate my GR friends' information/explanation on the matter.

Finally, from Chapter 40, I'm a bit disappointed due to its lack of action/words from the great victor Otake. So I guess he may have spoken humbly, if need be, in honour of the Master. Certainly, the Master rightly deserves our respects for his graceful, heroic final mission. One more thing we need to take care, any serious match can be fatal. Taking the middle way or being resilient should be the key to our success/satisfaction in our daily lives. Comparatively, Otake is the opponent the Master can see and plan to play the game. However, it's better if we'd rather have a few challenging us in the open for the face-to-face battle so that we know who they are and keep this in mind too.

It's just a game; get over it! Apparently not when the game is Go and the Master of the game, a figure revered by the author as if a prophet (the episode about the single strand of hair on the Master's eyebrow is hilarious, though), is playing his last fateful game against an upstart Otake.

The author uses the backdrop of this single game to depict the lifestyle of a bygone era in Japan. In that era, a game was more than just atheistically calculated 150 odd moves on a 19-by-19 matrix board. It was an era when a single game could last more than 6 months, with close to 50 hours of combined play. A single move could take more than three hours, and the game weighed so heavily on the players' minds that they would suffer serious health problems and even be hospitalized. Sublime qualities like elegance and composure at play and the harmony of the moves were given more importance than the mere counting of points.

Perhaps it captures not only the passage of time for a game like Go but also for other sports such as cricket (and a friend who plays golf could also relate this to his game). In the past, one would spend days watching a batsman at the crease for hours, even days, and remark on his style and the elegance of the line his shoulders made as he brought the bat in line with his pads to snub a good-length ball, as opposed to just counting the runs he made to defeat the opposing team.

This story of a single game of Go played in 1938 captures the change of tradition from an old ailing master to a young brilliant player. It's a letting go, not a straightforward one. The young player sticks to his guns to ensure that the Master can't get away with the abuse of his power, prestige, and guile. Instead, he unsettles the Master and defeats him by the canny use of the new rules. The progress of the game is depicted by several figures spread over the novel, but the book is so much more than the game. It's a careful and nuanced depiction of the characters of the two key players, their private lives and families, the procedure of mild and careful intervention by officials to nudge the game along without ruffling the egos of either of the players, and so much more. Rather than rushing to acquire the game of Go, I am inclined to acquire further works by this great Japanese author and lose myself for a few hours in the imaginary world he has painted.

He went happily through game after game, as if to say that it was silly to take a mere game seriously.

I feel as if I've already begun a review with 'Coming to this book at my stage in my reading career...' in recent times. But when one has spent time fiddling over vaguely formed pieces of text in more than a thousand such review boxes, repetition is bound to occur. However, repetition can be seen as the progenitor of practice and, hopefully, the key to proficiency.

This is the 48th work that is either entirely of or majorly incorporates text originally composed in Japanese that I've read on this site, and the fourth by Kawabata within the same period. After years of muddling through a relationship with Japan that I hope has progressed from escapist fetish to sardonic interest, it's almost a pleasure to read and observe the text.

The link between that far-off country and mine has as much to do with each nation's reciprocated interest in the foreignness of the other as with the shared histories of atrocities. This particular work, with its confidence in its mastery, pride in its enculturation, and flirtations with a nationalism that incorporates historical record and Sinophobic phrenology, reveals as much about Japan's trajectory from 1938 to 1951 as an average textbook.

I know enough to realize this, but whether due to a lack of knowledge or relevant personal experiences, I still find this text pleasurable on an instinctive level. Perhaps it's with the same sentiment that the "tall foreigner" whom the narrator inserts for Kawabata plays Go against during a train ride takes his being utterly trounced in stride: why fret over a few lost games when the war has already been won.

The reinforcing effect of the "Occidental"/US obsession with the "Oriental"/Japan makes it easy for the casual novice to take a deep dive into the context of many an individual facet of that "fascinating" culture. So much knowledge has been built up for free, as seen on the English Wikipedia, which has well-fleshed-out pages not only on Kawabata and this particular work but also on the historical game itself and its associated players.

From there, one can explore the rabbit holes of the second Sino-Japanese War, the circumstances guiding the usage of "sealed plays" in this game, and other segues that elucidate much of what goes on in this piece but also make things messier. In my case, I have a habit of deriding excess sentiment or unevenly applied instances, and Kawabata does this to a great extent.

However, he also composes his narrative with elegance, poignancy, and incisiveness, never using twenty words when two or three will suffice. After reading certain sidelong works that increasingly resemble procrastinated public presentations with every empty bloviation and pusillanimous narrative choice, I have to give credit where it's due. Sometimes, in writing, it's the difference between machine-gunning a dart board and the precise push of an anesthesiologist's needle: the divide between mass advertising and art.

Ultimately, in some ways, this is an extreme example of a work that is as much as one is willing to put into it. It's a writing of culture in the face of soulless capitalism, a mourning of the past while the unfeeling future brutally thrusts at one's door. It's also a piece that, on this site, inspires reviews that reveal how full of themselves the reviewer is and in what way.

In any case, Kawabata will likely be one of those authors I continue to explore simply because of the ease of book sales and the general peer-approved aura surrounding his works. But it won't be because I fall for the espousal of "international appeal" or other such phrases used by settler states to normalize their comrades-in-ideologies. What I enjoy is the familiar with the new, carefully enunciated, deeply enculturated, and consciously encapsulated.

As long as Kawabata holds up his end of the bargain (especially considering his deep friendship with Mishima), I don't see myself declaring any of his pieces a favorite, but I also won't dismiss him as having outlived his usefulness. It's hardly the bombastic yay-or-nays that my particular venue of literature loves to push out these days, but a moderation of modernity in view of all that came before is rather the point of this piece, isn't it?

"If one chooses to look upon Go as valueless," [Naoki Sanjūgo] said, "then absolutely valueless it is; and if one chooses to look upon it as a thing of value, then a thing of absolute value it is."