They gave me a teacher, who in a short space of time taught me not only how to hold the violin elegantly and correctly, but also to play some fragments of Beethoven’s concerto. I had to learn the fingering with my left hand on the fingerboard and bowing with my right. It seems I managed – even in close-ups you can’t see anything wrong.

Many many years later the wonderful American violinist Isaac Stern came to give concerts in Russia. We were on good terms and spent a lot of time together. He once shared his impressions with me after a master class in the conservatory: “You’ve got a lot of talented young violinists, but strangely they all have a very dull and inartistic way of holding the instrument. I’ve only once in my life seen a young Russian violinist who really held the violin elegantly. That was in the film “Beethoven’s Concerto”. “Isaac”, I said, “that wasn’t a violinist, that was me!”

My highest honour in music was our duet being included in the “Great Pianists of the Twentieth Century” series produced by Philips and Steinway. Among the seventy albums, along with names I’ve always bowed down to – Rubinstein, Rachmaninov, Horowitz, Gilels – there’s a sole piano duet, Lyubov Bruk and Mark Taimanov. That was a total surprise and an incredible source of pride.

Having two professions meant I managed to avoid professional jealousy – musicians could consider me a chess player and chess players – a musician. I considered those I played against not opponents, but partners: together we created a work of art – the game of chess. It was the same as the way in which my first wife, Lyubov Bruk, and I would create works of music at the piano. [Sport Weekend]

Yes, but perhaps that’s precisely why he was interesting. After all, he wasn’t simply a professional chess player, but a minister of that cult. I never even saw him without a chessboard.

Here’s an example. For a period of time he was fascinated (which happened extremely rarely with him) by a charming St. Petersburg woman called Polina. She didn’t speak English, however, and Fischer asked my wife, Nadya, to be an interpreter on their romantic date. Polina was running late. Fischer was dressed strangely: despite the summer heat wave he was wearing a leather coat, with all the buttons fastened, while he had a bag in his hands which, of course, contained a chess set. The first question he asked Nadya was: “Do you play chess?” And then, until Polina appeared, he couldn’t find another topic to talk about.

Chess was his life, his philosophy. He even said that the five years he spent in school were lost for him, as he could have devoted that time to chess. He probably was uneducated, but you couldn’t under any circumstances accuse him of a lack of erudition. His IQ was incredibly high.

At the same time Fischer had some abnormalities. For example, he hated communists and was a terrible anti-Semite, although his mother was a practising Jew. Yes, at certain moments he could be unpleasant and even insufferable. But he was a genius, which means he had the right to certain oddities, as after all genius is an abnormality in itself.

After that encounter they took away my “Honoured Master of Sport of the USSR” title, banned me for some time from overseas trips and forbid me from being printed. The formal pretext for the punishment was supposed to be that the customs officers found a book by the then still Soviet writer Alexander Solzhenitsyn – “In the First Circle”. But, despite all that, I recall that encounter with Fischer with enormous pleasure. Yes, the sporting result was depressing, but I had no reason to be embarrassed by the content, the creative side of the games... But more than that, I’m glad that fate in general allowed me to play a match against that great grandmaster. I was also one of the last to have the chance to meet Robert Fischer at the chess board. In 1992 I wrote a book with the title “I was a victim of Fischer”. I sent the first copy to Robert. His reaction was immediate: Fischer expressed his gratitude and said that he liked the book. [Izvestia]

I probably shouldn’t have lost by such a score. Fischer himself conceded that. He said the result didn’t correspond to the way the struggle went in the match, and that by the sixth game in his opinion the score should have been no more than 3.5-2.5 in his favour. But the psychological factor played a role. It was the first time I was encountering not a playing partner, but a computer that didn’t make mistakes. [Rossijskaja Gazeta]

Yes, I’d say that with Kasparov, the thirteenth World Champion, the golden age of chess came to an end. The thing is that up until the thirteenth they were all vivid, original personalities. There’s the great Lasker – a philosopher and thinker. The brilliant Capablanca – Mozart at the chessboard, a diplomat, a handsome man and a polyglot. There’s Alekhine – a prominent lawyer and the most interesting of men, there’s Euwe – a professor, a strong mathematician. Each World Champion was also interesting beyond the chessboard. It was always an event to watch the clash between people who were such opposites in terms of temperament, interests and public views. Take, for example, the Karpov-Kasparov match. That wasn’t just a chess encounter, it was a struggle between two worlds!

If you look at today’s champions, however, then the majority of them don’t arouse any particular interest beyond chess. Well, maybe Vishwanathan Anand stands apart – perhaps because he’s Indian. Besides that he’s extremely intelligent by nature and doesn’t get involved in any toilet scandals. [Rossijskaja Gazeta]

Among the men the most talented representative of the “new wave” is the Norwegian Magnus Carlsen. Before turning 20 he managed to win a number of super-tournaments and occupy first place on the rating list. It’s a pity that he withdrew from the Candidates Matches. In that regard he’s copying Fischer. [Sport Weekend]

I’ve been following American Grandmaster Hikaru Nakamura for a couple of years already. I’m impressed by the vitality, imagination and calculated risk in his games. I think the victory of the young American in Wijk-aan-Zee was a little unexpected, but fully deserved. I don’t think there’s any point rushing to the conclusion that he is the new Fischer. Robert Fischer was a genius, and geniuses, as we know, can’t be cloned. Moreover, in terms of the way he plays, and his character, Nakamura isn’t like Fischer at all. [Izvestia]

Yes, they’ve been a negative influence. Chess has lost its analytical side. That function has been taken over by the computer. You can get a position after 15 moves in the Najdorf Variation of the Sicilian Defence. I struggled with it for years, but the players don’t know what to do next. For some, independent play only starts on the 25th move, and ends two moves later – the computer considers the position drawn. The creative aspect has been strangled. Now it’s mainly a spectacle. They play at blitz speed. There’s no analysis of positions. You can watch the game at home, which is equivalent to listening to an opera on a recording instead of in the theatre. The media mainly covers scandals. For example, the toilet scandal during Kramnik’s match against Veselin Topalov. [Sport Weekend]