As for chess, it resonates metaphorically with a lot of the book’s other concerns—and since the book’s other concerns are my concerns, I guess that means it must resonate metaphorically with me—and one thing that I do think is uniquely fascinating about chess is the way it seems to select its geniuses. Garry Kasparov, for example—like Aleksandr in the book—solved a chess problem in a newspaper at the age of 4, which means he was intuiting not just the problem’s solution but also, somehow, the rules themselves. A brilliance that specific is so, so mind-boggling to me.

 

RY: Can you talk about the research that went into this book?

 

JD: I read everything I could about Russia—books about politics, travelogues of Communist and post-Communist Russia, a giant cultural history of St. Petersburg, a book about Cold War chess, the diary of murdered journalist Anna Politkovskaya, etc. I don’t think I could have written the book without also having access to the Internet—Google maps for city layouts, Flickr for photos from people’s vacations, YouTube for some of the chess matches, and Wikipedia for others (recorded in algebraic notation, which I’d then try to recreate on my own board).

 

As I’m answering this I’m realizing how hideously boring it all sounds, which I think speaks to the importance of being really dorkily interested in whatever it is you’re writing about. As for Huntington’s disease, I researched the disease’s progression and symptoms, but I wasn’t trying to make Irina’s psychological reaction to her diagnosis in any way universal—only plausible for her as a specific character—so I didn’t read too many personal accounts of HD sufferers’ real-life experiences. I did read a few, but it wasn’t the bulk of my research.

 

RY: You certainly might have had a somewhat intellectual audience in mind. Reviews of it always have the word “intelligent” or “brainy." Who were you writing this book for, or who did you envision wanting to read this?