Teach Yourself Go by Charles Matthews was the first book about Go that I read. I am very glad of that: in retrospect, this is exactly the book that I would have wanted to start with.
I learned the basics of Go almost entirely from reading books. It was well after reading Charles Matthews that I played my first ‘proper’ game. (By ‘proper’, I mean a game not played against drunken computer scientists at the Friday happy hour in the Gates building with words like ‘Möbius’ figuring in the description of the house rule sets. Not the best way to learn.)
The main thing I discovered when trying to learn chess from a children’s encyclopedia article is that learning the rule set for a game is very different from learning how to play the game. My first introductions to the game involved lectures about teaching computers to play Go (which assumed familiarity with the rules), watching exceptionally strange variants of the game and listening to very intelligent people waffle on about it in a very unintelligible way. Thus, I was quite confused at the beginning and was looking for a book that explained everything, from ground up, starting with the most basic of basic principles. I also wanted something that I could read in bits and pieces (as most of my reading was scheduled for bus journeys), and something that didn’t go so slowly that had enough depth that I would feel I could get started.
Go felt like a very different kettle of fish to me when just starting out. I had the sense that there was a lot of tacit knowledge that one needed to collect before one could even begin to play. The first 20 or so moves of my friends’ games seemed utterly incomprehensible (even when they weren’t attempting to pretend that the board wrapped around itself in funny ways), and I felt very ill at ease with the concept of the game ending when both players ‘agree’. I must admit, I sometimes got the sense that the people who were trying to explain the game to me were being obscure on purpose – much like the feeling I got when reading the rules of cricket section in Wisden. I also felt that what it was difficult for me to communicate was that I didn’t need to know everything about the game all at once; I needed something that would get me started and give me a good sense of what I would have to do to get my head around the game.
I found Charles Matthew’s book to be exactly what I wanted. He acknowledges up front the very things I found most worrisome and confusing about the game. (I found this very reassuring.) He assumes absolutely nothing. (He even tells you how many stones you’re likely to need for an average game – very useful for someone like me who was making my first Go set out of lined paper and beans.) He walks one through all the points that some experienced players often forget that new players don’t yet understand (without belabouring the basics). And, he manages to do this in quick, concise, friendly (but not patronising) language. Hurrah!
This is not to say that the book is in any way bogged down by overly long discussions about inconsequential things; he gets to the heart of things quickly. I felt that each of the topics was covered in sufficient depth to get me started and keep me engaged. I felt he did an excellent job at presenting lots of concepts without over complicating the issues. (I didn’t get that ‘Gah!’ feeling that I’m now used to when I watch games between strong players or try to follow books that are a bit beyond me.)
A couple years after reading this book, I met Charles Matthews at a friend of a friend’s wedding céilidh. I hope I expressed my thanks clearly, but I was too busy feeling excited to meet one of the people who first inspired me to learn about the game to remember what I said. We ended up talking more about Wikipedia editing than Go, as I recall.
