The Best Gifts for Chess Players

This is the gift that works when you don't know much about their chess. It's a real wooden set, large enough to feel like an occasion, and it doesn't presume anything about rating or format. A kid learning the knight's move can use it. So can a club player who wants something nicer than their tournament roll-up. That flexibility is rare in this category, where most good gifts assume you know exactly what stage the player is at.

The scale is the thing people notice first. At roughly 21 inches square, the board is bigger than the vinyl mats most players own, and the carved hornbeam and sycamore pieces have enough presence to hold their own on it. Owners consistently describe the craftsmanship as better than they expected and note that the set ends up living on a side table rather than in a closet. That's the mark of a gift that landed.

It also travels, which is not obvious from photos. The board folds and the interior has slotted compartments sized to each piece, so the whole thing closes up into a case your recipient can carry to a park bench or a friend's kitchen. If the person you're shopping for plays casually with family, that portability matters more than any spec on the box.

One more point in its favor as a present: it photographs well and it reads as thoughtful. Handmade in Poland, real wood, visible carving detail. If you're giving this to a parent, a partner or someone whose chess habit you admire from a polite distance, the object itself does a lot of the communicating for you.

Flaws but not dealbreakers

The pieces are lighter than their size suggests. Owners who've handled tournament sets say the weighting doesn't match the grandeur of the board, and if your recipient is used to double-weighted club pieces, they'll feel the difference. It's a fair trade at this price, but it's a real one.

The plastic storage slots inside the case get mentioned repeatedly as the weak part of the build. They hold the pieces fine, but they feel flimsy compared with the rest of the set, and a few owners doubt they'll survive years of opening and closing.

It's also not a tournament set. The pieces and board don't follow FIDE's regulation sizing, so a player who wants to practice on gear identical to what they'll face at a rated event will want something different.

The structure is what makes this the safe gift. Most chess books assume a level and lose everyone outside it. This one splits the material into rating bands and tells the reader where to start and where to stop, so you don't need to know whether your recipient is rated 1100 or 1600. You just need to know they play chess and want to get better. That's a much easier thing to be sure about.

Endgames are where improving players lose points they've already earned. Owners describe the same arc again and again: they knew openings, they were fine in the middle, and then they'd reach a king-and-rook position and butcher it. Readers say the explanations here are written in plain language rather than dense variation trees, which is why it clicks for people who've bounced off other endgame books.

It's also a genuinely low-risk present. Books don't need sizing, they don't conflict with gear your recipient already owns, and nobody has ever been offended by one. If you're buying for a club Secret Santa or a coworker whose chess you know nothing about beyond the fact that it exists, this is the pick that's hardest to get wrong.

The catch is that it rewards effort. This isn't a book to skim on a plane. Readers who got the most out of it describe sitting with a board, playing the positions out, and checking their answers against an engine. If your recipient likes that kind of study, it's a gift they'll work through for months.

Flaws but not dealbreakers

It's a study book, not a coffee-table one. A recipient who wants to be entertained rather than taught will find it dry, and it deliberately skips some exotic endings — bishop and knight versus king, for instance — on the grounds that most players never see them.

The listing is for a used copy in good condition, so the physical object may show wear. That's fine for a self-purchase and slightly awkward as a wrapped present. Worth knowing before you commit.

If your recipient is heading toward rated play, this is the one gift they actually need. Tournaments require an approved clock, and organizers and opponents expect this one. DGT has supplied equipment for the FIDE World Championship since 1999, which is how a single clock became the category standard. Buying a competitor's model means gambling on whether it'll be accepted; buying this one doesn't.

The preset library is the practical part. Between the 25 built-in systems and five slots for custom settings, it covers Fischer increment, Bronstein delay, and the odd time controls clubs invent for their own weeknight events. Owners describe the presets as covering essentially everything they encounter, which matters because programming a chess clock from scratch is a genuinely annoying task.

It's a strong gift precisely because most players put it off. A clock is unglamorous, it costs more than a beginner expects, and it's easy to keep borrowing one from the club box instead. Giving somebody the thing they've been meaning to buy for two years is more satisfying than giving them something prettier.

It also plugs into DGT's electronic boards, so if the person on your list ever moves up to a smart board, the clock still fits. Not many chess gifts stay relevant through a gear upgrade.

Flaws but not dealbreakers

It's plain. This is a black plastic timer with an LCD screen, and no amount of wrapping makes it feel luxurious. If the gift needs to look impressive when opened, look elsewhere.

It's also useless to someone who only plays online, and it's the kind of thing a serious tournament player may already own. Check the club bag before you buy.

The pitch is simple and it's a good one. Most serious players now do the bulk of their chess on a screen, and most of them miss the board. This one detects every move you make and passes it along to the software, so an online game becomes a physical one. For a player who's been staring at a laptop for years, that's a genuinely different experience rather than a gadget novelty.

The pieces are sized like real tournament pieces. King height is 95mm, right in the range FIDE specifies for competition, and extra queens come in the box for promotions. So the board doesn't feel like a toy under your hand, which matters a lot for the kind of player who'd want one in the first place.

This is a splurge, and you should treat it as one. It's the most expensive thing here by a wide margin, and it's a gift for a specific person: someone deep enough into chess that you already know they play online daily. For a casual player it's overkill. For the right recipient, it's the item they've been reading about and haven't let themselves buy.

It also opens up study options beyond casual play. Because the board reports moves to whatever compatible software is running, owners use it for recording over-the-board games and for playing against engines on a PC. That makes it as much a training tool as a novelty.

Flaws but not dealbreakers

Reliability is the real concern. Some owners report intermittent problems — the interface hanging, functions dropping out for no obvious reason, and firmware updates entering the picture as a fix. On an item this expensive, that's a meaningful risk to weigh before you commit.

Setup isn't gift-simple either. Your recipient will need to connect it to a computer or compatible device and sort out which software they want to run. If they're not comfortable with that kind of fiddling, the board may sit in its box for a while.

And the plastic pieces, while properly sized and weighted, aren't the wooden ones a collector would want. You're paying for the electronics, not the craftsmanship.

Not every chess gift needs to improve anyone's rating. Sometimes you're drawing a name at a club holiday party, or you need something to sit in a stocking next to the candy. Six different designs give the recipient something to actually choose between, and nobody has to know your chess knowledge stops at how the horse moves.

They land especially well with kids in scholastic programs. Owners buying for chess-obsessed children describe the socks getting worn constantly and drawing compliments, which is about the highest return you can get from a small gift. Kids in that phase want to signal the hobby, and clothing does that better than another book.

One size fits most is a feature here, not a compromise. Sizing is the thing that sinks most apparel gifts, and this sidesteps it. You don't need to know your recipient's shoe size, and you don't need to plan a return.

Flaws but not dealbreakers

They're thin. Owners describe them as neither flimsy nor substantial, and a few report noticeable shrinking after a handful of washes — enough that the fit tightens toward the smaller end of the range.

They're also polyester novelty socks, so set your expectations. This is a fun add-on to a real gift, not the whole present for someone you care about impressing.