Audiobook Review: Check & Mate by Ali Hazelwood

Check & Mate by Ali Hazelwood

Published by G.P. Putnam's Sons Books for Young Readers on November 7, 2023
Genres: Contemporary, Young Adult
Pages: 347
Format: Audiobook
Narrator: Karissa Vacker
Length: 9 hrs 31 min
Source: Audible

This post contains affiliate links you can use to purchase the book. If you buy the book using that link, I will receive a small commission from the sale.

Mallory Greenleaf is done with chess. Every move counts nowadays. After the sport led to the destruction of her family four years earlier, Mallory's focus is on her mom, her sisters, and the dead-end job that keeps the lights on. That is, until she begrudgingly agrees to play in one last charity tournament and inadvertently wipes the board with notorious "Kingkiller" Nolan Sawyer: current world champion and reigning bad boy of chess.
Nolan's loss to an unknown rook-ie shocks everyone—especially Mallory. What's even more confusing? His desire to cross pawns again. What kind of gambit is Nolan playing? The smart move would be to walk away. Resign. Game over. But Mallory's victory opens the door to sorely needed cash prizes and, despite everything, she can't help feeling drawn to the enigmatic strategist....
As she rockets up the ranks, Mallory struggles to keep her family safely separated from the game that wrecked it in the first place. And as her love for the sport she so desperately wanted to hate begins to rekindle, Mallory quickly realizes that the games aren't only on the board, the spotlight is hotter than she imagined, and the competition can be fierce(-ly attractive. And intelligent...and infuriating...)

---

 

So glad I finally took the time to read this one.

Chess was something that Mallory’s father encouraged in his daughter and she was a natural. When her father disappeared from their life on her 14th birthday, Mallory lost her passion for the game and walked away from the sport.   Since then she is focused on taking care of her mother and her younger sisters, especially since Mallory blames herself for their lack of a father in their lives.

At 18, Mallory  Greenleaf is still working at her uncle’s former garage fixing cars.  She has set aside her scholarship offers but feels lost that her best friend is leaving soon to being school in Colorado.   That’s probably why she allowed herself to be talked into a charity chess match.   Mallory promises herself she will keep these games from mattering to her until she find herself sitting across from Nolan Sawyer–the Nolan “the Kingkiller” Sawyer current no. 1 chess champion–and he doesn’t even bother looking up at her.  At least he doesn’t until she actually beats him, and he is staring agog at the girl across from him.

Mallory then does as she does best in stressful situations, she runs out of the building, planning to put chess, and Nolan Sawyer, back in its proverbial box.   Until she is suddenly left unemployed, and miraculously is offered a fellowship to study and play chess for the next year at a ridiculous salary.

Mallory doesn’t want to upset her mother, bring chess back in their house, so she tells her family she is working at a senior center while she studies chess openings and strategy.   Even when Nolan shows up at her door, almost demanding she play against him again, she pretends he is a co-worker at sends him on his way, at least she does after her Mom invites him for dinner and he eats his weight in meatloaf.

Mallory manages to be granted some opportunities to play in tournaments, even with her lack of standing in the chess world, and learns the good and the bad in the world of professional chess, including the outrageous money she receives from winner just a small tournament.  The kind of money that could change the lives of her family–pay the mortgage, pay afterschool activity fees, college tuition.

Mallory is still trying her best to keep the love of the game from taking over her heart but the game and a certain Kingkiller are wedging their way in regardless.

THOUGHTS:
I didn’t get a chance to read this when it first came out (read: I didn’t get a review copy and so I waited for it to finally go on sale), and I am kind of glad because it was nice to have a “new” Ali Hazelwood story to read.

Many stories have nonsensical reasons that a main character has to give up their future plans in order to support their family. Here, although there is the drawn out mystery of what happened to Mallory’s Dad, her mother has debilitating rheumatoid arthritis and is fighting insurance for better medication. So Mallory as the oldest daughter (younger sisters 14 and 12) has taken on the responsibility at the age of 18 to work full-time to pay the mortgage, food, bills, etc. and giving up ideas of college even with scholarship offers. Although I do disagree with her paying for all the extras that she feels her younger sisters should enjoy. Shielding them from the harsh reality that you are behind in the mortgage is one thing. Letting them understand that roller derby fees might be beyond your current budget (especially if you are behind in the mortgage) is understanding the realities of life.

Mallory has a natural ability toward chess and her playing is different from the standard tried and true strategies.  Nolan Sawyer was taught chess as a young child by his grandfather and he too has a natural affinity for the game. Unlike Mallory, he has been playing in tournaments since he was very young and at the age of 20, has becomes bored and jaded by the whole thing.  He is the current Chess Champion and ranks #1.  He has been playing the same people, mostly older men, for years now and has not been challenged by anyone new.  Now he plays one game and is soundly defeated by a very pretty young girl. It is no wonder his is fascinated by her and her playing style.  He desperately wants to play against her for the excitement of it.

The author makes specific reference to how women are under valued in the world of chess.  There is definitely an old boy’s club going on and Mallory is subjected to sexism by some of the older men, partly to throw off her game but mostly because they are jerks.

Here I am going to get a bit prudish.  This book is specifically listed as a Young Adult selection.  From what I noted that is intended for 12-18 year old girls.  Nolan is a virgin.  Since he has been famous  in the chess world since he was a kid, and was known for acting out when he lost–a kid is want to do –except  doing in front of the press, he has a bit of a reputation as a prima dona.  There is also the fact that more of his focus is on chess than meeting girls his own age, who are generally not at these tournaments.   Mallory on the other hand, doesn’t have time for dating since all her focus is on caring for her family, so Mallory uses apps for sexual meet ups.  One such meet up was a guy she had sex with before and they parked somewhere, had a quickie and she went home.  Normally, I would have no issue with Mallory being sexually active at 18 although it is sad that she isn’t adding emotion to her meet ups.  If this was just any other Ali Hazelwood novel, I would have no problem with the female protagonists being sexually active, even using Tinder for hook ups.   I kind of had a problem with this specifically being targeted towards the under 19 crowd, and maybe having to explain to a 13 year old that sure it’s okay for Mallory to explore her sexuality at 18 but maybe Tinder isn’t a best way for them to date.  How about Mallory could have lost her virginity to a high school boyfriend  who broke up with her and already left for college and she maybe was taking care of her own “business” right now rather than random strangers looking to hook-up with 18 year old girls.  I could go with explaining that to a young girl rather than okaying random hook ups because let’s face it, Mallory probably wouldn’t be getting good sex from a tinder hook up which the story indicates is the purpose of those randoms.

My prudishness aside, I enjoyed this look into professional chess and like Mallory and Sawyer very much.

---

Favorite Scene:

I smile shakily. “I’m here to see Mr. Sawyer.”

The doorman’s expression clearly says, I know you chess groupies, and I won’t hesitate to bother the police with this. It makes me want to die a bit.

“Please?”

“I’m under instructions not to let up unexpected visitors.”

“But I…” An idea occurs to me. It makes me want to die a lot. “He just came back from Russia and I wanted to surprise him, because I’m his…” Don’t gag. Show the good doorman the Page Six article “Girlfriend. See?” See this pic that’s on the internet and must therefore be true?

Two minutes later I’m on the fourth floor, thinking Nolan needs way better security when he opens the door.

I fully expected to word vomit at him and demand that he ask his…publicist? Press team? Masseuse? That he ask someone to fix this shitshow. But when he’s standing in front of me, hair wild, skin pasty white, white tee and plaid pajamas pants rumpled from the mattress, I cannot help but say…

“You look like death.”

“Mallory?” He rubs the heel of his palm in his eyes. His voice is hoarse with sleep and something else. “Another dream, huh?”

“Nolan–are you okay?”

“You should come to bed. This is a stupid setup. I like it much better when we–“

“Nolan, are you sick?“

He blinks. His expression clears. “Are you really here?”

“Yes. What’s wrong with you?”

He scratches his nape and sinks into the doorjamb, like orthostatic balance is not something he has fully mastered. “Not sure,” he mumbles. “Either everything or nothing.”

Nolan’s apartment is a duplex three times larger than my house, a giant expanse of uncluttered spaces, wide windows, hardwood floors, and bookshelves. In the middle of the hallway there’s an open suitcase, abandoned, on a nearby table, a stack of books that include Emily Dickinson, Donna Tartt, and a monograph on the Macedonian phalanx; all over, the deep, complex scent I’ve come to associate with Nolan–but better. Stronger. Deconstructed in its separate layers.

I follow him as he leads somewhere he forgot to say, trying not to be nosy about his space, not to stare at the cotton clinging to his wide shoulders. It’s odd, being here. Like the peculiar atmosphere that every room exudes as soon as Nolan Sawyer enters it has been distilled, condensed, poured over the walls and the floors.

This impromptu trip might not have been a wise decision.

“Do you have a fever?” I ask in the kitchen.

“Impossible to tell.”

I arch my eyebrow. “Let me tell you about thermometer technology.”

“Ah, yeah. I forgot.” Thing is, I don’t even think he’s being a smart-ass. I watch him grab two regular-size mugs that look almost comically small in his hands (one says Emil’s #1 Little Bitch), a box of Froot Loops, a half-drunk gallon of milk that’s visibly curdled. He offers me the non-Emil mug like it’s a whiskey shot.

“Nolan, you–” I push up on my toes to reach his forehead. He’s burning. This close, he smells like sleep and fresh sweat. Not unpleasant.

“Your hand is so cool,” he says, closing his eyes in relief.

I make to take it away, but he traps it under his. “Stay.” He leans into me, breath warm, chapped lips against my temple. “You never stay.”

“Nolan, you’re ill. We have to do something about it.”

“Right. Yes.” He straightens away from me. “Breakfast. Will be like new after.”

“After this? You need nutrients, not food coloring in micro-donut shape.”

“It’s all I have.”

“Seriously?”

He shrugs. “I was gone somewhere. Canada?”

“You were in Russia. Also, you have a stack of bowls in that credenza–who had cereal in a mug?”

“Oh.” He nods. Then collapses slowly, until his forehead rests on the kitchen island. “Who’s Credence?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. I’m a good person. I pick up Mrs Abebe’s garbage can when the wind tips it over, smile at the dogs at the park, never make fun of people who say irregardless I don’t deserve this. And yet. “Listen, stay here. Don’t eat that. I’ll be right back.”

I half carry him to the couch, this solid muscles heavy and scorching hot against me. In less than ten minutes, I run downstairs, spend a small European country’s GDP at the corner bodega, and come back up to find him sleeping.

I’m Mother Theresa. Reincarnated. I need a halo for my trouble.

“Take this.” Nolan’s couch is a giant sectional but still too short for him. Ridiculous.

“Is it poison?”

“Rapid release Ibuprofen.”

“What’s that smell?”

“Your armpits.”

“No, the good one.”

“I’m cooking.”

His eyes spring open. “You’re making chicken soup.”

“Which you do not deserve.”

“From scratch?”

“It’s really easy, and canned stuff takes like lead poisoning and despair. By the way, you owe me forty-three dollars. Yes, I’m charging you for the emotional support Snickers bar I bought for myself–you can Venmo, but please don’t write For Drugs in the memo line. Just…take a nap. I’ll be right back.”

Related Posts