In an institution as prestigious as Oxford, every book you pull out in public is transformed into a portable personality test, a hard launch of your favourite academic, and the cover art of your personal brand. So whether you’re the one reading a Colleen Hoover romance in the Rad Cam, or annotating an 800-page Russian novel in Pret, or casually flipping through a suspiciously perfect Penguin Classic in University Parks, just know that I see you, and I’m sorry for being honest.
So here it is, the 100% judgment-full review of what the book you’re reading says about you, dear reader:
The Nietzsche Reader
What it says: You stick to dark colours, drink coffee at 1 am and constantly remind everyone that you “absolutely cannot stand TikTok”, yet spend hours curating the perfect low-exposure Instagram story to seem enigmatic. Please, for the love of God, increase the phone brightness so I can see your Iced Americano and wired earphones clearly.
Your degree: PPE, Philosophy, and Maths.
Fantasy Romance (I’m talking Sarah J. Maas’s A Court of Thorns and Roses, Rebecca Yarros’s Fourth Wing, Holly Black’s The Cruel Prince – you get the gist)
What it says: You should be focusing on your many essays and annotating medieval texts, but instead you spend hours highlighting each enemies-to-lovers scene with glee. You romanticise your life at Oxford but secretly wish a fae prince would arrive and save you from that 2:1. Yes, you are obsessed with winged warriors and morally dark men, but at least you believe in love, which is more than can be said for the average Oxfordian.
Your degree: Any of the Humanities, but also Biology and Geography.
Atomic Habits by James Clear
What it says: The self-help book warrior. Look, it’s great to have ambitions and focus on self-improvement, but maybe start with cancelling your conservative society membership. You are that one Union hack who invited freshers to coffee in week one with the promise of a “really great Junior appointed position!”, only to ignore them once elections were over. I’m not sure if it’s a curse or a blessing that you chose Oxford over Hustler’s University.
Your degree: PPE and all variations of this subject.
The Secret History by Donna Tartt or any ‘Dark Academia’ texts with a mysterious cover
What it says: You totally falsely romanticised Oxford, hoping it would be a chance for you to wear Doc Martens and turtlenecks and have complicated relationships with guys called Henry. You’re always skimming in libraries like the Duke Humphrey’s or the Taylor Institution instead of doing actual reading, and you refer to your tutorial partner as your ‘‘academic rival’’. You probably also have an Instagram page full of staged pictures of colour-coordinated book tabs and cigarettes that you pretend to smoke.
Your degree: English, History, and Classics
Freud and/or the Romantic poets (Byron, Shelley, Keats and their ilk)
What it says: You are the poetic version of the scene from the Barbie movie where Ken plays the guitar whilst holding his audience captive, except you went to private school and have a sonnet addiction. No one wants your perfect metre! You religiously attend poetry open mic nights and cite verses from the top of your head, but let’s be honest: you’re not even sure what they mean. I recommend a long chat with your supervisor and your mum. The good thing is, you’ll never need to question how this reader feels; they’ll yell at you about it in perfect iambic pentameter.
Your degree: History, Psychology, English, and probably PPE
Normal People by Sally Rooney (dog-eared and annotated, in danger of actually falling apart)
What it says: only texts in lowercase and has a spotify playlist named ‘yearning’. you confidently claim you enjoy being utterly devastated by a plotline because it makes you feel emotionally intelligent. Arriving at Oxford, you hoped for a deep romance full of wistful looks and rainy quad walks, but instead got awkward tutorials and a situationship from christ church who is scared of commitment.
Your degree: English, Psychology, and Modern Languages
The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins
What it says: You are extremely suspicious of institutions, but happily applied to Oxford University. Now you’re here, you’ve realised Oxford is the Capitol, just with horrid Wi-Fi and bad heating. All of your essays are somehow linked to capitalism, power structures, and class inequalities, but you have a union membership and shop at SHEIN. You’re not actually planning on being the generation’s Mockingjay, but you will definitely write an amazing blog post about it.
Your degree: Human Sciences or History
In the grand scheme of things, ensuring that you have the right book for the version of yourself you want to project is surprisingly important. Alas, whilst I could keep listing reader stereotypes for the time it takes for Oxford Union hustings to finish, I have to stop myself from offending too many of you. So, whether your shelves are full of novels that will remain untouched, or your accommodation is cluttered by chaotic piles of second-hand books, don’t worry. They will still act as faithful companions and handy personality introductions through the academically rigorous journey that is Oxford.
