Story by David Strauss (BBO: DJS11)

I love bridge books. I have collected hundreds of them, and they are personal friends. Many of them are instructional, and much of what I know about bridge I learned from them. Terence Reese, Eddie Kantar, Mike Lawrence, and many others have taught me so much. Perhaps most of all, the superb books on card play by Hugh Kelsey.

Then we come to bridge fiction. Who hasn’t enjoyed Victor Mollo’s stories of the Hideous Hog, the Rueful Rabbit, and their friends and foes? And David Bird’s splendid tales of bridge excellence and human folly? To this day, the first thing I turn to in the Bridge Bulletin is the latest adventure of Bird’s obnoxious Abbot.

But there is only one series of bridge books that I would describe as genius, and without hesitation. Phillip and Robert King are a father-and-son team of bridge authors. Phillip is an English international, and Robert King describes himself as a keen amateur and a professional playwright. They have written about seven collections of bridge stories, each in the style of a famous writer. The writing is pitch-perfect in capturing the writer’s style. And the hands, which are fascinating and instructive in their own right, fit perfectly into the story plots.

We follow Agatha Christie’s famous detective, Hercule Poirot, as he solves mysterious deaths using only his “little grey cells” and clues from the way the hands were played. Sherlock Holmes, partnering Dr. Watson, brilliantly outsmarts the evil Professor Moriarty, himself a bridge expert. James Bond, with help from Zia Mahmood, saves the world from nuclear destruction at the hands of an evil bridge-playing monster. And in Play It Again Slam, the version of Casablanca, the heroes save the (bridge) world from being overrun by the Nazi bidding system.

Here, in the authors’ version of Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth Bennet is a brilliant bridge player who is capturing the romantic attention of the wealthy Mr. Darcy. West, Mr. Bingley, is Darcy’s friend, and East is one of Elizabeth’s many sisters. Sitting North is Mr. Bingley’s sister, who is Elizabeth’s rival for Mr. Darcy’s attention.

Mr. Darcy played in 6♦, after North opened 1♠ and East overcalled in hearts. He won the heart lead on the table, pitching a club, ruffed the second heart, and drew trumps. He called for a spade from the table, won in hand with the queen. He then returned a spade, won by East. She carelessly returned a heart, allowing a ruff-sluff, but declarer still had to lose to the ♣K and went down.

“What wretched fortune, Mr. Darcy,” observed Miss Bingley. “But for the cruel disposition of the black suits, your accomplished dummy play would have been justly rewarded.”

“Possibly,” he replied. “Yet I am by no means persuaded that I managed the hand in a manner befitting my rank.”

Elizabeth could not resist a sly smile. “Your modesty is to be commended, Sir, particularly as in this instance you have much to be modest about.”

Darcy then suggested an alternative line, which Elizabeth explains would also have failed.

“Admit defeat, Miss Bennet,” Miss Bingley cried triumphantly. “The contract was foredoomed.”

“Your admonition places me in a quandary, Miss Bingley,” said Elizabeth. “To admit defeat might improve Mr. Darcy’s temper; to deny it might improve his card sense.”

“Then deny it by all means,” cried Mr. Darcy with passion. “For no man of sensibility should miss an opportunity for sensible instruction.”

Elizabeth then explains that she would have ruffed the opening lead in hand, preserving the ♥A, drawn trumps, and led a spade from dummy — a classic Morton’s Fork. If East ducks, South later discards the spade loser on the ♥A, losing only a club trick. If instead East rises with the ace, South has the entries to establish the fifth spade. Either way, the contract makes.

Another memorable story introduces the Bridgefather, the bridge expert who is also the head of a New York crime family. Mr. Bolognaise, an honest, hard-working baker with modest bridge skills, is dragged in by his wife after misplaying a hand by taking a finesse instead of executing a squeeze.

The Bridgefather patiently explains the correct play, then offers his moral. Some men, he says, are meant to squeeze olives; others are meant to take simple finesses. When Mr. Bolognaise’s finesse fails, his wife is told exactly what she should say: “Bad luck, my husband.”

And finally, in Play It Again Slam, the authors reimagine Casablanca, revealing that Ilsa’s greatest triumph was not romantic but a defensive masterpiece in the Versailles Mixed Pairs. Her inspired play at trick one seals declarer’s fate, accompanied by lyrics from Slam, the pianist in Rick’s bar.

I won’t tell you how the story ends — you will have to read it for yourself — but I will tell you that it’s the greatest plot twist in all of bridge literature.

Some of the books mentioned in this article are available in our eBookshop. You can find them here.