Word Freak by Stefan Fatsis

Back in the old days of aught-six, I read a book which (I presumed) represented some of the most extreme wordplay junkies: Crossworld. Now, thanks to Word Freak: Heartbreak, Triumph, Genius, and Obsession in the World of Competitive Scrabble Players, the crossword enthusiasts look like like slacker hobbyists.

In Stefan Fatsis's memoir/immersion research piece, he examines the small, ridiculously competitive world of tournament Scrabble. He begins with a Plimpton-esque goal of learning more about a game that's always interested him on a casual level. However, the narrative turns into his own obsession with joining the expert ranks, and fitting in with the cool kids. (Insofar as as adults who customize Scrabble boards and study words lists for fun can be "cool.") The early bits offer some background on the game and board games in general, which is pretty cool. Did you know that in 1953, Scrabble was so hot and rare that "buying a Scrabble set in New York is something akin to nabbing a prime rib roast at ceiling price during WWII"? That Candy Land sales reflect the birth rate of three years earlier? That Scrabble sells millions of units per year with virtually zero advertising? Or that Scrabble and Trivial Pursuit were developed by the same company, and so mismanaged that they almost died in their respective booms? Anyway, I found that interesting.

Scrabble is also notable for having the biggest, most rabid community of players of any proprietary game (e.g. not chess, backgammon, or other games which have been played for centuries). This, of course, leads to major political issues: who has the best interests of the game at heart? Is it the people who own the copyright and make the money, or is it the people who devote large chunks of their lives to the play and study of the game? There's a middle group, the National Scrabble Association (NSA), but they pretty much piss everyone off by being the unfortunate middle man. Some of the funniest parts of the book are the descriptions of the interactions of players with the NSA. Let's just say it all involves death threats over word lists, mass protests over whether or not the Official Scrabble Players' Dictionary can censor racial slurs, and a bizarre twelve-act play about how the head of the NSA slighted one player's "contributions to Scrabble."

Competitive (or at least serious) Scrabble players don't seem to be the happiest people around. One of the nation's top players, briefly a writer for SNL, is hooked on herbal uppers, and supplements his virtual unemployment with obsessive Scrabbling and occasional stand-up comedy gigs. Another, a gifted anagrammer, lives in Baltimore (avoiding jobs because working 9-5 doesn't "suit his personality") and takes 30-hour bus trips to various tournaments. Yet another has major gastrointestinal problems. Others have regular day jobs, but devote their free time and social lives to playing Scrabble in clubs or in Washington Square Park. They're a community, though, and have the light moments and the camaraderie along with the competition. There just doesn't seem to be much joie de vivre--or at least not the kind one might associate with playing a beloved game.

That becomes apparent in Fatsis's voice, too. When he's just a journalist, meeting people and taking notes for his nebulous piece on Scrabble, there's a joy to be learning different methods and words, and socializing with a new group. But he gets more and more invested in winning himself, and reaching the expert level of his new friends and recent teachers. His own score becomes the timeline, and bits of crankiness with the game and the people start to show.

They all seem to discount any happiness that might derive from any part of the game that's not winning, or improving obscure word skills so that one will win next time. Words don't need definitions; they just need to be among the 120,302 valid words in the Official Scrabble Players' Dictionary. Where's the fun in a game if you have to keep stopping to explain why your use of UNCINATE or STOURIE is technically correct? Fatsis tries to establish that the senses of community and intellectual sharing are the heart--but the emphasis on words that will never, ever come up outside of a game board is a little off-putting.

While memorizing thousands of words without context is entirely unappealing, I did learn a lot about how to step up my game. I'd like to check out the group at Washington Square, to see if that's still around. And maybe slightly obsessive practice on Facebook, online, and in living rooms from Brooklyn to the Upper West Side, are okay. Or it's all a gateway drug, and I'll be plugging away in some low-level tournament in New Jersey, trying to add a few paltry points to my rating. Whatever.