On a Chessboard II: The Flanders Panel by Arturo Pérez-Reverte

(In which I was both an amateur chess player and an equally amateur detective.)

***

I am a slow reader. And that explains the small number of books in my book pile. Had it not been for my predilection for multitasking, I could have been leading an enjoyable, albeit sedentary, life dedicated to reading. But not only does the multitude of my tasks get in the way of my grabbing another book from my TBR, it is also the fact that I don’t read all kinds of books.
Before I have regained the momentum to read (or should I say gained the interest in reading novels) I just grab anything from tall book piles in Booksale as long as the title is catchy, the cover design is good and it’s not a fantasy novel. As I move on from one book to another, I have decided that I do not (for the moment, because I’ve learned that we’re not supposed to close all our doors, even to books) want to read paranormal romances, chick lit, family fiction, action, sci-fi, mystery and fantasy. But since there is an exception for every rule, I have read halfway through the Harry Potter series.

That actually left me with limited genres to explore. I have developed a penchant for historical and art fiction, though. The plot is predictable at times, but nonetheless inspiring. After reading Arabella Edge’s The God of Spring, which I loved by the way, I realized that it is hard to create a demarcation line between what I like and don’t like to read genre-wise since mystery, for instance, is more or less ubiquitous in history. So when I stumbled upon a book dealing with chess, art and a mystery of a series of murders, I knew better than to resist.

The Flanders Panel is a novel by the Spanish writer Arturo Pérez-Reverte written in 1990 and was adapted into a British film in 1994 entitled Uncovered. The novel takes off at the discovery of a hidden inscription in The Game of Chess, a fifteenth-century work by the master Flemish painter Pieter Van Huys. The painting depicts two gentlemen engrossed in a complex game of chess – the Duke of Ostenburg and a French knight. Seated near them is the Duchess, clad in black velvet gown, reading. The inscription, which was written in Latin on the canvas and was painted over, states Quis necavit equitem – Who killed the knight?

Julia, the art restorer who uncovers the inscription through an x-ray test done during the preliminary stages of restoration, is determined to solve the five hundred-year-old question, initially for the sake of making the price of the painting skyrocket on its auction day. With the help of her friends, she tracks the history of the painting, including the characters in it and hopes to find the answer to the enigma by relying on the pieces on the chess board. She believes that they could find out who killed the knight by studying the pieces on the board. They even go as far as employing the skill of the best chess player in Madrid. At first it is just about the painting and the auction. But as Julia’s friends get murdered one by one, she, together with he rest of her companions, needs to continue playing the game for their own survival.

The position of the chess pieces as shown in the painting by Van Huys.

To describe the novel as mind-boggling is an understatement. Anyone who has read The Flanders Panel would agree that Pérez-Reverte’s philosophical, artistic, literary and even musical references in this novel were successfully executed that it is easy to take the novel as a historical fiction, thus making it difficult for the fact that the painting doesn’t exist to sink in. His characters, who stretch from the sophisticated, hedonistic and decadent elites from the art world to the intellectual, objective people from the world of chess, provide a striking juxtaposition and towards the end, render a patiently built Venn diagram. As he moves on to textually depict a game within a game within a game, the surprising turns of events pull the readers from the engrossment to the fundamentals and intricacies of chess to the banalities and complexities of life, and back. And just as one thinks that the conclusion is rather becoming pointless, Pérez-Reverte saves one last revelation to turn things around, again.

It was, considering the limited reading experiences from which my description would emanate, is a whole new kind of thing. The book is artistic in its sheer definition, binding chess, visual arts, theatrical arts, literature, music and philosophy with mystery. Through this book, I was able to relive the fun of playing chess and enjoy the thrill of playing Sherlock Holmes. I’ll surely get another one like this some other time.

(For the full text of The Flanders Panel by Arturo Pérez-Reverte, click here)

Currently reading:

Spring Moon by Bette Bao Lord

Photo Sources:Spring Moon

On a Chessboard

(In which I rest my survival in Life’s cruel game on a flat surface of white and green.)

***

The second unit of the academy is filled with busy people making do with the very sufficient time left before coming up with a presentation tomorrow. I, together with the other teachers who just came from a pictorial with a student who’s leaving, trotted towards the other aisle to see how the students’ rehearsal was doing when a petite, slim girl wearing a baby pink blouse approached me with widely open arms. I was actually surprised to see her since I thought she was supposed to be in school today. Nevertheless, I received her with equally wide-open arms.

“Hi! How are you?” Emily said.

“I’m fine. Thank you” I said, and followed it up with a cliché that I’ve mastered in this profession. “And you?”

“Yeah, good. Oh! –“

I automatically knew that there’s something juicy she wants to share. Then she began laughing like something’s tickling her and she looked around. She grabbed my arm and led me to my room. The door wasn’t locked and we entered. I leaned on the backrest of my chair and waited for her to speak.

“Tomorrow, “See-You” will have a sports fest. And they’re gonna join.”

I waited.

“You know, Rain, Joe and…?” she looked at me, waiting for the dreaded name to be mentioned. I did.

She beamed. “Yeah, they’re gonna join the sports fest! Rain, is going to play taekwondo, Joe will be swimming and he will be playing – “

“Soccer?”

“No. Chess! Walang soccer.” and she laughed heartily.

“Not a bad choice. “ I said, smiling. “He’s good at that. But he said he rocks in soccer. (I remembered him bragging that when I see him play soccer, I’ll be oh so proud.) Were they required?”

“No, they just wanted to join. But I was laughing at him because he wants to play chess. So I told him ‘No one’s gonna watch you. Your game is so boring.’ That’s really funny!”

“Tell him I am.” And we both laughed.

“When was it?”

“Tomorrow.”

I nodded and looked at her. The smile from her hearty laugh remained. I refrained from asking more about him and the chess game.

“How’s school?”

“Oh! Terrible! You know? I have English 1 subject and I thought it’s madali. But no! I’m wrong! It’s mahirap!” she exclaimed, placing the stress on the wrong syllable when she pronounced the last word. She told me stories about how she thinks of me every time she has difficult essay homework and that she should have listened to my lessons more carefully when we’re talking about essay witting. I managed to respond to her inquiries while my heart is sinking. We went out of the room and were welcomed by the gazes of the students who were practicing how to sing Michael Jackson’s “Heal the World”.

I walked slowly to my other room. It seemed like the students are so busy doing their stuff that they don’t mind skipping classes. I sat down on my chair waiting for Jean. I thought for a moment. How long that moment seemed for I have went back to my old safe of memories within that short span of time.

He is good at playing chess. I discovered it when I asked him if he wants to play Scrabble.

“No. I like chess. You like chess?”

“I used to.”

“I want to play chess.”

“I don’t think we have a chessboard here. You should bring yours.”

“I don’t have. In Korea.”

When we finally get a friend to bring her chessboard, we played. Mine was black. And in a matter of six pieces, I lost. Not that he’s an expert for beating me but I don’t have to be an expert to see that he knows how to play. And he plays well. We never had a serious chess match after that. Either I get bored upon arranging the pieces or I give up at the first sign of defeat.

Once, he and his friend Deum had a bet. Chess match. Best of three. We were sitting around a huge rectangular table. Each player has their cheering crowd around them. Or should I say, Deum has his. I was sitting on the neutral corner. He looked at me with sweet, confident eyes.

“Who will win, you think? Me?”

“I think he’s better. We’ll see.”

“Aish! Ok. I’m alone. But I’ll win.” and he flashed a smile. It must be the kind-that-charmed-women-all-over-South-Korea sort of smile which Kaye has been telling me about.

The game ended. He lost and charged the other player of cheating, which Deum responded with “No! Touch move!” and was answered by another “Aish!” and an appealing sideward look at me. “Yeah. Touch move.”

One more “Aish!” was muttered.

The second round ended with a score of 1 – 1. The crowd was dispersed when the bell rang. Everyone was eager to go home. Deum gave him a thumb down. “I was just kind.”

“No! I won!” and he looked at me. “Right?”

“You did now. But it’s a tie. You still have one more game. So who won?” I inquired with a smirk. "No more. Time is finished." Deum responded.

I was facing the empty seat of Jean and I asked myself again. Who won? Come to think of it, everything that happened was like a chess match with crystal pieces. Mine was black. And I cringe when I look at the state of my game. I should have castled. My queen was gone. My rooks were gone. And I’m counting on a Bishop and a Knight, struggling for my pawns to get to other side.