Back when I was waiting to graduate from Bristol, I wrote some posts on improvement for everyone covering statistics, time management, learning endgames, working together and rook and four vs. rook and three. I rate them amongst my best efforts, but my games come first and they rob me of the time or motivation to continue the series. I need to up my game to avoid a British Championship wipeout though, and that gives me an excuse for a post I've wanted to write for a while. Understanding ourselves and our opponents is a vital skill, informing preparation, psychology and study, and always leads people to the thorny topic of styles. This is my take.
In simpler times they spoke of combinative and positional players, but chess has moved too far and now we are all bilingual. Dvoretsky's dichotomy sounds more compelling: the intuitive "have a keen feeling for the slightest nuances of a position and possess sharp combinative vision" but "are weaker in the planning of a game, in strategy, they do not especially like calculating variations" whereas the logical "find deep plans in the opening and the subsequent stages, their thinking is disciplined, and they calculate variations accurately. But occasionally they miss unexpected tactical ideas, sometimes they are excessively direct, and they sense insufficiently keenly the turning points of a game." Alas, I take pros and cons from each side... I prefer Aagaard's use of an extra axis - dynamic or technical - but am proposing a simpler division of philosophers and problem solvers.
Philosopher translates literally as "lover of wisdom", which is too true. Blessed with deep understanding and strong intuition, they gladly burn the midnight oil and have no fear of theory. They can follow their beloved principles to profound places; think Karpov-Kasparov, Botvinnik-Capablanca or Euwe-Najdorf. A problem solver's light burns more often, but never so bright. On the debit side, they often take those principles too far. Steinitz's belief in the mystical power of an extra pawn got him this and this, whilst Kmoch's mockery of Nimzowitsch was not unjustified. Philosophers are perfectionists all, for whom it is possible to win the wrong sort of victory. They tend to consider their ideas above mere details, and so take many more regrets to the grave than the problem solver: they are prone to one-move oversights, they calculate inaccurately and their technique is poor.
My school friend Peter Lalic coined the problem solver label, and not as a compliment. Problem solvers lead a hand-to-mouth existence, bringing almost no knowledge to the board and starting from scratch in every single game. They will avoid pitched battle in the opening at all costs and, for want of strategic understanding, have to apply brute-force calculation to all positions regardless of character. So they often get into time trouble very early on, and sometimes aren't in the game at all, either missing the thread or getting killed in the opening. However, living on their wits alone develops a mighty work rate at the board; they are unbelievably resourceful and slippery, frankly because they have to be. Despite engine stereotypes, brute-force comes into its own in endings, a problem solver's natural habitat. Unaccustomed to logically outplaying people, they are ruthless pragmatists who don't recognise a wrong sort of victory and are always ready to get their hands dirty.
Obviously the last two paragraphs were caricatures, representing not a dichotomy but ends of a spectrum. The chess gods are all well-rounded players grouped near the centre, combining the understanding and imagination of a philosopher with the resourcefulness and pragmatism of a problem solver. Idle speculation aside, this model is aimed more at improvers who can relate to incomplete skill sets. Place yourself and you will know what to work on. I am an unreformed philosopher, although I feel this is rare for my generation (perhaps because most are mathematicians not historians, or because I'm a self-taught late starter, but who knows?) Anyway, if you aren't at the centre then what is the cure?
Philosophers must accept the Soviet platitude that chess is a struggle. The beauty of principles and logic is often subordinate to practical reality; knowledge can guide, but solving specific problems is what counts. A high work rate away from the board doesn't confer a free pass at it! Philosophers should develop concentration and practical skills - calculation and tactics - to iron out those 'mere details' they overlook. These limitations make them suffer disproportionately in time trouble, which must be avoided. I believe that problem solvers have it easier (he would, wouldn't he?) - they need to build up positional understanding. I recommend heavy-duty opening theory, both because their practical skills would be deadly if they actually got a good position once in a while and because it teaches strategic themes in connected middlegames. More general understanding is needed though, for chess is too complex to solve at the board. Silman's How to Reassess Your Chess and Kasparov's On My Great Predecessors series are two easy suggestions. All of this will also improve their tendency to time trouble.
So there you have it: a classification of styles, and what you can do with the knowledge. Everyone who thinks about this problem develops their own take on it, and if chess teaches us anything it should be to think for ourselves, but I hope this was both a useful and interesting read. With luck, there will be more like it soon...
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