There are currently a few threads here about learning josekis. That is nothing new. It is a topic of abiding fascination for a large segment of the amateur world, and continues to be so despite the equally constant warning mantras such as "learn joseki, become two stones weaker." There was recent incident in the North of England where a family drove past an enormous sign warning them not to enter the causeway to Holy Island when the tide was coming in. Not only are there tide tables posted, but in this case the tide had already covered the causeway. The upshot, when the stranded and terrified family was duly rescued, was that they thought the sign didn't apply to them.
This is such a common occurrence in life that there is probably a scientific name for it, and maybe even a university chair. It certainly applies to joseki study.
The subject has been taken up in Japan. I have a small 1981 book ostensibly by Go Seigen, though the real author is Mihori Sho. It is called "How to think about joseki". It couldn't be more different from what we see here. No checklists. No memorisation. Almost, in fact, no josekis.
The essence of the book can perhaps be summed up by Go's advice in the first part. Rather than looking at a corner and deciding which joseki to play, you are urged to look to left and right and decide which MOVE to play. If this process is continued, what may result is a shape that has occurred before and may occur again, but that's just an incidental by-product of the move-by-move process. With every single move you have to be prepared to adapt to circumstances, and if the best move means deviating from a known pattern, you deviate.
Mihori says the top pros know no josekis, not because they haven't memorised anything but because the concept is irrelevant to them. They are judging each move, move by move, and - as already said - whether or not that process leads to a known joseki is immaterial. Except, of course, in that it is precisely through playing joseki moves that amateurs give away many points in handicap games with pros.
Mihori says he often got involved in conversations with top pros simply because he was an amateur and so knew the josekis. The likes of the Kisei Fujisawa Hideyuki or Kajiwara Takeo 9-dan would collar him and ask, "Mihori-san, how does the joseki go from here?" It's going off at a tangent, but if you want to know how the conversation might go after that, Mihori gives an example: "Hane no hiki no kaketsugi no tobi desu ga..." That's real pro talk (and between two pros the hane mentioned might even be about ten moves down the line).
The reaction to Mihori's exposition of a line from a joseki dictionary might then elicit a snort from the pro: "Eh - that's awful!"
In fact, it appears that ultimately pros don't accept the concept of josekis because there is, in practice, no such thing as an even split. Every so-called joseki, to a pro's eye, actually favours one side or the other, and since the pro is always manoeuvering so that he ends up on the right side he will never accept a move just because it has been played before. Doing that leads to what some pros apparently call "bad josekis", and Cho Chikun once said to Mihori, "Whenever I see amateurs play a bad joseki because they regard it as a golden rule, I feel sorry for them."
Now, obviously, pros play go non-stop and see certain patterns over and over again. They might even know that amateurs call some of them josekis, and some may pander to amateurs by actually calling them josekis, or even by writing books and articles about them. But in their own games they regard and treat them differently.
One marked difference (according to the book) is that amateurs feel the job is done once they've achieved the joseki pattern. For a pro, the pattern is never complete. The purpose of playing the joseki moves is not to follow the joseki books but to achieve something specific, and even when a pause is reached in local play that purpose never goes away. If it does, you've played the wrong moves. If you choose to forget (or fall into the trap of fogetting) the purpose, why play those moves in the first place?
Some readers will perhaps be convinced they've got the right handle on this: "I got thickness and I'm using that thickness to attack his group over there"; or, "I've chosen to take territory and I've left myself a nice little endgame move here." Actually, nothing wrong with that, as far as it goes. It just doesn't go very far. It's not much different from saying, "I've got an easel, a canvas, a pot of brushes and a stack of paints. Now I'm going to paint the Mona Lisa." The pro artist takes all that for granted and is more absorbed by things like studying the light, or his sitter's history or emotions.
This "studying the light" element in go is called "joseki after-care" in the book. It is the whole process of guiding the joseki successfully towards the endgame. The early-middle game portion may be encapsulated as making sure the purpose of the joseki is being maintained (or frustrating the opponent's plans in that regard, of course).
One of the most startling parts of the book, however, is the last section which shows how rich even the most mundane josekis that every amateur seems to have memorised can be. Four common josekis are given (one of them is given in another recent thread here), but whereas in a typical book or dictionary this is the end pattern (with occasionally a remark that e.g. "Black can look foward to A later)", in Go's hands it is merely the starting point for a kaleidoscope of follow-up moves. Some made me goggle in astonishment. I'd never see them or even got near to thinking about them. The feeling in fact is not that the joseki is being finished off with a few boundary plays but that, even in the endgame, the joseki is still alive. It is easy at least to understand that there are many "nerai" - points to aim at, to a pro's eyes, in a fuseki or middle-game position, but to see the same process late in the game for a joseki position that has, in essence, already developed a thick, bony skeleton, is mesmerising. You may get a sense of this from the mere fact that Go devotes ten to a dozen full pages to each of these late-game nerais in one joseki, none of which you'll ever see in a standard joseki book.
Does all this mean abandoning joseki dictionaries and the like? No. It just means using them properly. The most obvious use is to get a sense of how to evaluate a position. That is a truly vital skill, and it is far, far more important to be able to look at a small handful of positions and to know how to evaluate them than to memorise lots of long lines. Note the distinction: how to evaluate them, not what the evaluation is.
If another player tells you "I know XXX joseki", look askance. If he says you must learn XXX joseki, look askance and run a mile. There is another more subtly erroneous piece of advice to avoid. Those people who tell you that you must understand the meaning of each move before you can claim to know a joseki are actually doing what bulls do after a good meal. If you think about it, the implication of what they say is still that the joseki is the right target, the holy grail, the place you have to reach. But if you follow Go's advice and look left and right and play the move appropriate to the circumstances, it is irrelevant whether you end up with a joseki or not. Mihori adds that it's not good, in go, to be the sort of Mr Joe Seki person who takes the same obvious route to work every day. It's good to explore the back alleys, too. Being Joe Seki is okay sometimes, but you can be Fred Seki sometimes, too - and, if it's the right thing at the right time, be happy to be Jane Seki, too. Watch Reginald Perrin to see what fun is to be had.
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