Saturday 2nd May 2026
Blog Page 1028

Rhodes Must Fall return to protest outside Oriel

Jack Hunter
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Rhodes Must Fall return to protest outside Oriel

Campaigners demanded Oriel College “name their price” at a Rhodes Must Fall (RMF) protest outside the college on Friday.

The protest came a year after Oriel launched their sixth-month listening exercise, which was brought to a halt in January when they announced their intention to keep their statue of British Imperialist Cecil Rhodes.

There were chants of “get up, get down, there’s a decon movement in this town” and “de-de-decolonise” while the group presented a cheque to Oriel, explaining in a letter to the college “you understand only the logic of hard cash”.

Campaigners claim that Oriel College’s decision not to remove the state was motivated by a potential loss of funding from wealthy donors. The college has strongly denied these allegations.

In an open letter to Oriel from Rhodes Must Fall Oxford, which was read out at the protest, “Your actions reflect a broader context of embedded prejudice, white supremacy and institutional indifference at the University of Oxford.”

“You are just an example of the university’s institutional racism: you marginalise, ignore, and actively undermine the voices of particular racial groups as you stuff your pockets with their money and pay lip service to an empty agenda of diversity.”

The protest’s focus on the issue of financial donors follows recent developments within the RMF Oxford campaign and decolonisation movement, as protesters seek to intersect with Free Education Oxford and other groups against the “colonisation and neoliberalisation of higher education”.

Graduate student and decolonisation activist Rachel Harmon told Cherwell,”We are going to let the University and Oriel College know that RMF Oxford is going to keep organising until our objectives are met and until our demands are dealt with in a meaningful way by the university.”

“We’ve been extraordinarily disappointed with the institutional response so far and we’re not going to give up just because they haven’t done what we want them to do yet.”

She explained that the protest was demanding the University “deals with iconography around the university which glorifies people who have done really atrocious things throughout history”. The group also demand changes to the “extraordinarily euro-centric curriculum” and representation.

A spokesperson for Oriel College told Cherwell,”In January, after careful consideration, the College’s Governing Body decided that the Rhodes statue will remain in place. As was made clear at the time, the College considered a wide range of views from many sources including students and academics, heritage bodies, national and student polls, alumni and members of the public. The overwhelming message of these was in support of the statue remaining in place, for a variety of reasons.”

A spokesperson from Oxford University said, “Oxford University is a welcoming, tolerant and diverse community. More than 25 per cent of our undergraduates and postgraduates are black and minority ethnic students. We are continually working with students on many initiatives towards greater inclusion and representation for all ethnic groups.”

“For example, we ran a highly successful summer conference to encourage more UK minority ethnic applicants from state schools, jointly led by students in the University’s African and Caribbean Society. We are also working in consultation with minority ethnic students on curriculum change, and supporting this process with a series of high-profile public lectures on cultural change in higher education.”

Preview: The Pillowman

Jeevan Ravindran
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Preview: The Pillowman

A writer puts pen to paper only to churn out stories of little children being horribly murdered. We soon discover that he has a very troubled backstory, a tortured and traumatised brother, with murder accusations hanging over both their heads. However, insist directors, John Maier and Will Cowie, this is a comedy.

Initially, I have difficulty believing this, and as the rehearsal begins, I am mesmerised more by fear and a gnawing curiosity than by the side-splitting humour of it all. Katurian (played by Lillian Bornstein) is both narrator and performer, with intriguing re-enactments of his stories interposed between the action. As the lights come up in the opening scene, he sits blindfolded, alone onstage, and is subsequently interrogated by police officers Tupolski and Ariel (played by Joseph Stephenson and Christian Amos), who meet his impassioned claims of innocence with a mix of apathy, amusement and anger. In fact, the entirety of Martin McDonagh’s script toys with the juxtaposition of brutality and comedy.

To enact one of the stories, a vast white covering, part wall, part screen is transformed, as Eve Finnie’s remarkably designed puppets play out Katurian’s words. Suddenly the directors’ vision comes alive as a story both real and imagined plays out before us. Much as the writer describes his parents conducting an “artistic experiment,” it is obvious that the play itself is an artistic experiment, toying with the play’s earthy and sinister misanthropy. It is clear that Cowie and Maier have read and interpreted the play sensitively, choosing to see it as a statement on society. Gender-blind casting and the innovative storytelling methods only add to this.

The intimate setting of The Michael Pilch Theatre breathes a new life into this adaptation. The audience, on the same level as the actors, have a close insight into the minds of the characters, whose intense exchanges are claustrophobic in their proximity. The directors seem keen to assure those who might have seen the 2014 Playhouse adaptation that this is quite different – the minimalist nature of their production has forced them to delve deeper into the play and create something entirely original. Yet, seeing the play in action, it’s almost impossible to imagine the production on any scale other than this.

It is difficult to deny the talents of this small cast of four – Lillian Bornstein’s Katurian is at once forceful and pitiful, playing beautifully opposite the comic duo of Stephenson and Amos; the pair bring out the play’s boldest humour, whilst having fun at Katurian’s expense – torturing him, then politely asking him to take a seat. His brother Michal (Chris Page) is childish and naïve, failing to understand the gravity of his situation, bemoaning an itchy posterior, and shaking his head confusedly at Katurian’s complex intellectual musings.

Talking to the cast afterwards, they assure me they’ve had fun preparing for the play, despite its dark themes. Cowie and Maier say they were looking for eminently capable comic actors in casting, and that the nuances of Martin McDonagh’s bathetic and anticlimactic humour are often easy to miss.

It’s clear that there’s much more to expect than what we’ve seen – a story told through animation, retro TVs, and realistic fight-scenes choreographed by movement coach, Pete Sayer, as well as much more humour. “We want people to leave crying, but crying with laughter,” Maier concludes. “But maybe every one in three tears should be emotional,” chips in Cowie.

Whether funny or emotional, with its turbulent mix of totalitarian horror and quirky humour, don’t put head to pillow this week without seeing The Pillowman.

The Pillowman runs in 8th week at The Pilch Studio, (30th of November- 3rd of December).

Review: Much Ado About Nothing

Nina Crisp
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Review: Much Ado About Nothing

Shakespeare’s tale of two schemes concerning lovers – one to get a couple together, one to tear another couple apart- could conceivably happen anywhere. Jack Bradfield sets the action in a house party at the turn of the millennium, where anything might happen.

Poltergeist Theatre’s production introduces new perspectives to the characters. I liked how Hero and Claudio, who are traditionally the couple who conform to society’s gendered expectations, are the ones whose genders are played with, keeping the genders and pronouns they have in the text, whilst being played by actors and wearing clothes coded to another gender. The editing of the play blends this all together, as Claudio’s rant at the altar focuses more on the infidelity he believes Hero to be guilty of, and is less directly misogynistic, which might have felt weird coming from someone in a skirt. In addition, I enjoyed the addition of a redemption arc for Margaret when she realises her complicity in the shaming of Hero.

The cast was very strong. Alice Moore’s Beatrice was sharp and had a wide range of comic facial expressions, and Adam Goodbody’s Benedick was the least cocky I have ever seen him, even vulnerable in his love at times, and together, they make a touching couple. Benedick’s other important relationship, his friendship with Claudio. Is also well played, from their camaraderie at the beginning to seeing the conflict of issuing or receiving the challenge to the duel. Georgia Figgis plays Claudio in many states-excited in love, drunk, angry, upset- and the sadness she brings makes you feel sympathy for him, at least until he very convincingly rages again. Another standout for me was Lillian Bornstein’s Don Pedro, who looked utterly heartbroken after Beatrice refuses his marriage proposal.

Design wise, it’s tied together well. Both Georgia Bevan’s costumes and Adam Marshall’s lighting revolve around winter greens and rich purples, set against the white snow and plainer bases to the costumes. The transitions between scenes often resemble fast-forwarding in a video, keeping with the video theme in a stylised and polished way. Many a time a character is seen with drugs, a glass, or a bottle, which seems to motivate some of the more extreme reactions. The music, an original soundtrack by Alice Boyd, is melancholy, and the haunting rendition of Sign No More is particularly beautiful.

One thing emphasised in the marketing was the use of live-streaming and television. The major use of the live feed is when policemen Dogberry and Verges, perform to a handheld video camera, which shows on screen. This is an inventive way of allowing their actors, Imo Allen and Marcus Knight-Adams, to double as villains Conrad and Borachio, but the scene where the constables capture the criminals, repeatedly passing the camera between them, did seem a little clumsy. The television is also used in other parts of the play, to be played with, or for comic effect or for exposition. Its use would be greatly improved by ensuring that the audience could always see what was happening on screen- either by having a second screen that the actors didn’t interact with, and was only there for the audience, or simply by having the actors moving around instead of sitting or standing still in front of it.

The other thing that was conveyed in the marketing was the edgy perspective they would take on the play- the “death” of Hero and Benedick’s challenge to Claudio are emphasised. I was expecting a darker tone than what I normally expect from a Much Ado…-but this production went beyond my expectations. Yes, there are moments of pure comedy, such as the scene when Benedick is tricked into believing Beatrice loves him, and the unexpected audience participation, but it’s a lot darker than something often played as a rom-com is. The editing of the script focuses on the sad, angry, and tense moments, and even the very last line -drawing attention to the Prince’s failure to find a wife- leaves you with a sombre mood.

If you’re going hoping for a cheery, fun, or romantic night, this is play not for you. However, if you’re going for Shakespeare performed very differently, or something to play with your mood, or a uniquely brilliant interpretation of a classic, Poltergeist’s Much Ado… is one to watch.

St Aldates closed after police incident

Marianna Spring
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St Aldates closed after police incident

St Aldates is currently closed to traffic following an incident involving a pedestrian on the corner of the High Street and St Aldates.

The Oxford Bus Company has since confirmed that one of its coaches was involved in an incident with a female pedestrian on the High Street.

An X90 coach has been cordoned off at the top of St Aldates, although pedestrians are now able to use the road again.

No students are confirmed to have been involved, but it is advisable to avoid the area whilst the police incident is ongoing.

Thames Valley Police and the Oxford Bus Company have been contacted for comment.

Merton tops updated version of Norrington Table

Marianna Spring
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Merton tops updated version of Norrington Table

Merton College has topped a revised version of the Norrington Table, pushing Oriel into second place.

Oxford University adjusted the table according to the results of various appeals that have occurred since the provisional version of the table was released in August.

Having topped the table in 2014, Merton plummeted to 27th place last year, with Magdalen coming in first place.

Meanwhile, Brasenose has risen to 7th place, overtaking Balliol, whilst Pembroke have taken 13th place from Jesus.

The two most significant rises were Somerville from 20th to 16th place and Hertford from 23rd to 20th place.

St Edmund Hall dropped 6 places from 15th to 21st and Lady Margaret Hall fell from 21st to 23rd. Queen’s remained in bottom place.

A spokesperson for Oxford University commented, “The original table was only provisional and was based on interim data, which was correct for the time. The final table is based on complete results after any re-marking or other changes have been undertaken and entered – this may affect the change in college rankings between the publication of provisional and final versions.”

Dr. Simon Smith, a senior tutor at Brasenose, told Cherwell, “Brasenose is naturally delighted by the academic success of last year’s graduating cohort, which reflects the efforts of our students and tutors in a supportive social environment. At the same time, it should be remembered that the Norrington table is simply an ordering of Oxford’s mixed colleges and that all of them offer an exceptional undergraduate experience.”

Natasha Gibbs, a third-year student at Merton, commented, “Naturally we’re all very pleased to have taken back our position at the top of the table after the slight slip up recently. If we’re going to have a reputation as being where fun goes to die, we might as well have the results to show for it.”

The Norrington Table, an unofficial academic ranking of colleges, is calculated using a points system for the degrees undergraduate students were awarded in that year. A First Class degree gains the college five points, with three points for an Upper Second, two for a Lower Second and none for a Third or a Pass. The total score is expressed as a percentage of the maximum possible score, which is all Finals candidates multiplied by five.

Merton college declined to comment, whilst Oriel are yet to respond to request for comment.

The updated version of the table can be found here. The provisional table released in August can be found here.

Preview: Bang Bang You’re Dead

Amaris Proctor
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Preview: Bang Bang You’re Dead

Although I was unable to see the actors in action, I got a sense of the production as the enthused director, third year psychology student Antoni Czerwinski, took me on a conversational tour of his vision for the play. It is a pliable, one-act piece of writing by William Mastrosimone, which lasts only about an hour, but has immense emotional weight. Disturbed by the prevalence of school shootings in America, and specifically Kip Kinkel’s 1998 attack on Thurston High School, the playwright explores the psyche of Josh, a teenager who brutally shoots his parents and classmates.

The piece is one which, in the words of the writer, requires “no set, no lights, no costumes (except for contemporary dress)”, facilitating how it spread like wild fire. This minimalism is something which Czerwinski has taken full advantage of, promising a production with a subtle use of lighting and a solitary piece of furniture. Czerwinski’s capacity to exploit the writing’s plasticity quieted one of the primary qualms I had about the piece: The writing was bred with American culture in mind, meaning the leap to a European setting would possibly detract from its powerful relevancy. This is especially considering how the last mass school shooting in Britain was the Dunblane school massacre, which took place in 1996, before many current students were even born.

This fear was dispelled when I saw the set design, as the floor is to be papered with news articles, from America, but perhaps more interestingly also from European settings, such as the Czech Republic and Serbia. This plays both on the fascination with crime drama which has spiked in the past few years, considering the likes of Making of a Murderer, whilst also showing that rather than necessarily being a direct comment on gun culture in America, this production deals with the universal teenage condition. This is conveyed by how the piece engages with the hunter as much as the victims, exhibiting a sombre sense of empathy with the desperate offender crucified so utterly by the media.

The smart decision to use the floor as a statement piece has a secondary, more pragmatic effect, as it helps darken the already intimate Burton Taylor studio, complementing its shady, atmospheric walls. This mutedly plays up the connections between the writing and the difficult discourses surrounding mental illness in Oxford. Although less drastic and sadistic, the negative, overwhelming emotions of self-loathing and isolation experienced by the protagonist can sometimes rise in our highly pressurised environment. Additionally, the doubling of the creative and practical during the staging of the play is admirable as the fifty audience members will be seated in an octagon. This places focus on the multiple exits, which will allow for crisp transitions while also emphasising the themes of exiting and death at the centre of the play, as is accentuated by how each victim has their own way out.

Thus the play clearly comes to grips with themes which reverberated around the minds of high school students, considering the tens of thousands of productions which have sprung up from the intense script, all attempting to fathom acts of unthinkable cruelty. As the author states, it is “a drama to be performed by kids, for kids”, as is expressed by the darkly playful title. This in my mind makes it exceptionally well chosen and fresh for a university audience, who are on the cusp of adulthood. We have had a bit of breathing space from the traumas of high school, but are still essentially kids, with the experience of teenage angst still fresh in our collective consciousness. Ultimately, hopefully the robust cast of seven will be able to execute Czerwinski’s solid vision.

Fiction: Watch the sky burning

Sophie Burdge
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Fiction: Watch the sky burning

“Let’s go for a walk.”

She shrugged. Continued to stare straight, not into her coffee but over it. She didn’t look round.

“Come on,” I pressed. “It’s a beautiful day, let’s take a wander along the canal.” It was her favourite kind of day as well. Or would have been, under normal circumstances. Autumnal, but not yet grey and chilly, the sky was still bright and the air had both the huskiness of bonfires and the sharp bite of the approaching winter. “A beautiful day,” I said again.

Clearly she didn’t feel like having an argument today, as she stood up and reached for her coat, all the while saying nothing. I almost wished she would argue, I wished she would scream and shout and hate me and leave me. Anything but this impenetrable fog of silence between us. She downed her coffee—it must have been cold by now, but she tipped it back anyway. Not even a grimace as the cold grit from the bottom of the mug hit her throat. She probably didn’t notice.

I helped her on with her coat—she didn’t need me to but I liked it. I’d always liked the feeling of being a gentleman, pulling out chairs and opening doors for pretty girls. Even when she told me off and said that I was being “benevolently sexist,” I did it anyway. I liked it. We hoiked on our wellies and shuffled out the door, sliding our way through the swell of orange that coated our front steps. I’d never really appreciated autumn before we met, always thought of it as something of a nothing season, just a filler between summer and Christmas. I still didn’t like it that much, if I’m honest. I hated feeling as if it were the middle of the night as soon as I finished work, and the way the air snapped at you but without the promise of snow. But I’d learned to sort of objectively appreciate it—for her sake. She wanted to us to stand round bonfires together and go on evening walks to watch the sky burning. I could sort of appreciate that now. I guess. She probably doesn’t like it as much anymore though.

She’d always liked wrapping herself up, that was another of her favourite things about autumn. She always looked so sweet, enveloped in huge scarves and jumpers, a little flushed face peering out into the cold. Now it looked more like armour. Impenetrable. She’d lie wrapped up in a blanket on the sofa in the evening. And I’d come and sit beside her. And she’d just pull the blanket tighter.

We’d reached the canal by now. A few ducks skated serenely over the crimson water, avoiding the token shopping trolley. I reached for her hand. She tried to pull away but I persisted. Tightening my grip around hers, keeping her soft little hand enclosed in mine, I felt like I was holding a mouse, or a little chick, something that you had to be gentle with but also not let go of. That was her all over: be gentle but don’t let go.

I did the not letting go part pretty well. We had a strong relationship, I think. But sometimes I perhaps wasn’t as gentle as I should have been. And that’s what got us into this mess. Well, it wasn’t all my fault. She had her fair shame of the blame as well, and she knew that. I think that’s what had sent her into this extended sulk actually. She knew that she was partially to blame and she couldn’t stand it.

Her hand gradually relaxed into mine as we trailed along the canal. We’d walked that way so many times, our hands always intertwined, that it began to almost feel normal. A dirty, greying sheet had spread across the sky by now, any trace of azure blue enveloped by its fraying corners. No burning sky tonight. Just nothingness. Blank. I pulled her closer, trying to steal her away from the cold’s probing finger tips. I tried, but she resisted. One step at a time. The squelch of rotting leaves beneath my feet was beginning to nauseate me, with each pace the damp radiated into my boots a little more, her hand pulled away from mine a little more. I tightened my grip. Be gentle but don’t let go.

The frustrating thing was that I was really trying. I was trying my absolute hardest. And I understood why she was angry, genuinely I did. But she couldn’t just keep giving me the silent treatment like a petulant child. In fact, it was this sort of lack of communication that had led to the problem in the first place. It was like she just expected me to know exactly what was going on in that manic little mind of hers all the time. Bloody typical of women when you think about it. They go on and on about communicating and how important it is to be open in a relationship, but as soon as something goes wrong they shut you right out. Or that’s what she did anyway. I mean, I sort of realised at the time that something was wrong. But she never said that she didn’t want it. She never said stop. She never came right out and said it, you know? And I’m not a mind reader. How was I supposed to know? Seriously, how the hell was I supposed to know? Bloody women. You try and you try and… nothing.

Interview: Virago Press

Ellen Peirson-Hagger
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Interview: Virago Press

“Virago means heroic war-like woman, or, as the Thesaurus has it for a particular kind of woman: biddy, bitch, dragon, fire-eater, fury, harpy, harridan, hussy, muckraker, scold, she-devil, siren, spitfire, termagant, tigress, virago, vituperator, vixen, wench.” 

Virago Press was founded in 1973 by Carmen Callil to publish women writers and feminist works. I spoke to Virago Deputy Publisher Sarah Savitt and Virago Modern Classics Director Donna Coonan to discuss how women’s writing has shaped them as readers and publishers, and the feminist responsibilities their jobs bring.

When you were younger, how aware were you of feminist writing? 

Donna Coonan: I was aware of Virago from quite a young age, partly because I went to a Catholic school and I liked the bite out of the apple logo—it was quite naughty. And partly because, although the school was run by a nun, she was quite an enlightened nun. A lot of our A Level texts were Virago books. We had Margaret’s Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale, Grace Nichols’ The Fat Black Woman’s Poems... It wasn’t until I got to university that I realised that the higher up you study, the fewer women you study.

Sarah Savitt: I have definitely always read women writers. I read Jane Eyre obsessively as a teenager. I had my most influential teacher in my last year at school and we read Wide Sargasso Sea and The Stone Diaries. They were two pivotal moments for me.

Have you noticed a change in the recognition of women in the industry?

SS: Now, there’s so much feminist writing, particularly non-fiction. It is an amazing time to be an editor. Because feminism is in the air politically, there is more discussion and recognition of the inequality. But when you look at prizes and the literary end of stuff there is still an imbalance in terms of who’s take n seriously and who gets the big solo reviews.

DC: Books by women are not reviewed as much, but also reviewers are predominantly men. When you look at readers, women are more ready to embrace male and female writers in a way that men aren’t. Men generally read men. It is a case of changing our reading habits too.

How much does the biography of a writer— their gender, race, sexuality—affect your perception of a work? 

DC: Regardless, a book would have to be of exceptional quality for us to take it on. But in the back of your mind you do have the idea that you are the gatekeeper for what the public will be able to read. It’s important that diverse voices are heard.

SS: There is morality in publishing. You do have to think about who you want to publish and promote. But there is also just a question of difference. As an editor you’re always looking for something different in any way—a novel narrated in the first person plural, or a novel about a country you’ve never read about, or British working-class voices that haven’t been heard. It’s also just about providing differing experiences for readers.

I read a really interesting piece this morning about Brit Bennett who’s just published a debut called The Mothers. She says “I don’t want my role as a writer to be a translator of black grief to white audiences.” There is that question of who a writer’s audience is, and how much you connect with that, and whether you connect with something because it feels familiar or because it does feel different. It’s so hard. If you thought about it too much you’d be paralysed. As a commissioning editor you have to go with your gut feeling about a book, so I don’t want to interrogate it too much in case that goes.

If you could choose one book on the Virago list to recommend to everyone, regardless of gender, what would it be? 

DC: It’s like asking us to choose between children! But I’m going to go for Marilynne Robinson—the whole trilogy—Gilead, Home and Lila. I love these books for the beauty of the writing and because they are profoundly humane.

SS: I’m going to say Tipping the Velvet by Sarah Waters. I love publishing books that sneak politics and morality under a huge amount of fun. But there is a sensibility underneath. Part of the reason I wanted to come to Virago was because I adore Sarah Waters. I gave it to one of my friends who is into more macho stuff—I mean that in a macho-literary way, more Philip Roth than Bear Grylls—and he adored it. And I felt vindicated.

Perspectives on Gender

Cherwell Culture
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Perspectives on Gender

2nd Year Classics and English Student, Magdalen

I usually enjoy being in the minority as a female Classicist at my college. The public school boys in my class may have been taught Classical languages for longer and with greater old-fashioned rigour than me, but I like bringing something different to the class. A partially self-taught flare for language, a real love of the literature and a bit of frankness and openness are more than a match for their instilled confidence. The backwardness has rarely held me back—but on one occasion it became too much. I signed up voluntarily for a Latin verse composition class last year, having dipped into it at my girls’ school with the help of a supportive teacher. The class was both full of and taught by old Etonians, from a textbook entitled something along the lines of Verse Composition for Eton Schoolboys. The last straw came for me when another boy in the class, who was from a different public school with a reputation for Classics, said he felt overlooked by the tutor because he wasn’t an Etonian. If he felt overlooked, this was nothing on how little I was encouraged. I ended up dropping something I was really interested in, instead directing all my efforts towards my tutorials with a young, female tutor who agreed about the department’s problems with institutional sexism.

In the admissions cycle of which this writer was a part, Magdalen received 377 female applicants and 372 male applicants. Only 44 (12%) of the female applicants were successful. Of the men, 72 (or 19%) got a place.

 

2nd Year History Student, Keble 

Discussing ancient Athenian gender politics with a male tutor and two boys was bound to be an interesting experience. Whilst it generally was one I enjoyed, the gender politics at work in my tutor’s office were at times shocking. Is it problematic that in tutorials discussing ancient misogyny, my tutor was forced to stop the discussion and specifically address a question to me as the only woman present because so far the conversation about the presentation of female sexuality in Greek comedy had been dominated by the men whose surrounded me? Perhaps the fact that the room had to be silenced in order for me to give my opinion suggests we haven’t moved as far away from the ancient patriarchal oppression that my tutor cheerfully pointed out was long gone—“it’s a shame that some of the brightest minds in Athenian society were ignored—they made a huge mistake in doing that”.

In spite of the fact that almost 60% of humanities students are female, the number of women holding professorships in the Humanities lies at a little over 38%.

1st Year English and French, Queen’s 

We’re often told that English is a girls’ subject, but I hardly expected it from the men studying it as well. When a male, fellow English student once said to me “you’re just more sensitive to literature than I am, because you’re a girl”, I was shocked. It shows that in spite of the definite academic shift, away from the tired clutches of gendered thought, sexist attitudes persist. I can go to a lecture on feminist theory and the construction of gender in Ulysses. I can write my English language essay on the meaning of the word “woman”, and indeed whether there is such a thing. I can discuss queer and gender identity with the DPhil students at my college, whose theses have given them room to explore these things. In spite of all this, we’re still falling into the trap of seeing gender as significant in explaining differences in who should study what. We know that this is an irrelevance, a safety blanket we need to let go of, but still, it persists.

The perception of ‘girly subjects’ causes problems even at the application stage: of the 56 applicants for English and French last year, 47 were female, and only 9 were male. These numbers are reflected in the wider humanities joint schools.

3rd Year French and Russian Student, Pembroke 

Among one of the most interesting things I brought home with me from Russia, aside from the cheap vodka and Putin T-shirts, was a better understanding of the Russian woman. The Russian woman, although I’d rather refrain from generalisations, exudes a courage and determination that I have rarely encountered in such a form. Living with a Russian “grandmother” and her daughter, I learnt a great deal about their willpower and admirable grit. Stepping off a minibus into the darkness of Yaroslavl, a tiny yet resilient Tanya greeted me and together we carried my 30kg suitcase up ten flights of stairs for lack of a lift. She complained not once, welcoming me with open arms and introducing me to her daughter of 25 who, despite the desires of her ex-husband, had pursued a successful career in dentistry while raising her four-year-old son with the help of her mum. Within half an hour I realised that these women were in need of no one else, or at least no Russian man (who my babushka frequently branded a waste of time). When gracing the male-dominated newsrooms of France and London later on that year, I would remind myself of the resolve of Tanya and Nastya, who would hold their own without grievance and who would never give up.

The University admits approximately even numbers of male and female applicants. The problem lies in localised areas, such as subject and college. For example, English continues to be ‘for girls’ (60% female), Engineering ‘for boys’ (82% male).

The smell of Christmas

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The smell of Christmas

The distinctive and lingering smell of frankincense overflows from Oxford’s numerous old churches at Oxmas time, heralding the approach of Christmas.

Researchers at the Institute de Chimie de Nice in France have recently distilled two new “highly potent and substantive odorants” in frankincense, present in fewer than 100 parts per million—the equivalent of a pinch of salt in ten tonnes of crisps. The implications of this discovery are revolutionary for the perfumery world and may even prevent the extinction of the species of tree from which frankincense resin is extracted.

The elusive molecules are named, somewhat unromantically, (1S,2S)-(+)-trans- and (1S,2R)-(+)-cis-2-octylcyclopropyl-1-carboxylic acid. Intensive research by the Baldovini group led to the eventual isolation of the cyclopropyl acid derivatives responsible for the basenotes, the longest lasting oils, of the famous scent widely used in the fragrance industry.

“We have patented the use of these compounds for fragrance formulation and plan to find a way to commercialise these acids as fragrance ingredients for perfumers,” stated Nicolas Baldovini, research leader, about the commercial aspects to this discovery.

Perfumery, or ‘per fumum’—through smoke, a reference to the release of fragrant chemicals through burning—is considered one of the earliest forms of chemistry. The frankincense resin, olibamum, which produces the scent in many popular scented products is believed to be one of the first aromatic materials used by mankind, dating back more than four millenia. Indeed, frankincense resins have been of huge social, economic, and religious importance throughout history, perhaps most famously as one of the presents offered to the infant Christ by the three kings in the Bible.

Baldovini’s desire to understand the chemical basis of ancient natural products used extensively in perfumery stems from the fact that “there is paradoxically little information on many raw materials concerning their impact odorants.” In other words, despite the extensive use of natural materials in perfumery, there is still a lack of research done to identify the constituent aromatic chemical molecules crucial to the scent that will allow artificial synthesize of the perfumes.

Despite nearly a millennium of use, the chemicals giving the strongest basenotes in frankincense products could, until now, only be distilled from natural resins collected by slashing the bark of the Boswellia sacra trees, unusual for their ability to grow out of solid rock.

Starting with three kilograms of frankincense resin from Somalia, Baldovini and his team isolated and purified approximately one milligram of the two carboxylic acid derivatives believed to give the incense its distinctive smell. Trained perfumers were used to confirm that the basenotes of frankincense were indeed given by the two molecules. Despite today’s unprecedented rate of technological advancement, our human nose is still the only instrument sensitive enough to detect the key components present in minute quantities in such mixtures. When used in conjuncture with analytical machines such as the Gas Chromatography Mass Spectrometer (GC-MS) or the Gas Chromatography-Olfactometer (GC-O) to determine the structure of the molecules present, the aromatic molecules are identified and their structures pinpointed.

The simple and economical chemical procedures used by the Baldovini group demonstrates that “natural aromatic raw materials are still poorly known goldmines.”

Recent studies in Ethiopia have shown that the overexploitation of frankincense-producing Boswellia could culminate in the loss of the entire species since intensive tapping causes the trees to divert too much of their carbohydrate stores into resin rather than for flowering and seed production.

“The trees, once damaged, do not regenerate. Fifty years from now, 90 percent of the Boswellia will be gone,” predicts Frans Bongers, Professor of Tropical Forest Ecology at Wageningen University.

Successful isolation of molecules providing the “characteristic old, churchlike basenote of the frankincense odour” as so aptly described by Baldovini, could allow cheaper and more readily available synthetic equivalents to be made artificially, preventing the otherwise inevitable extinction of Boswellia sacra because of commercial exploitation.

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