Queue Blondie, Duran Duran. And in theaters? The Shining. Apocalypse Now.
The Shards is the novel Bret Easton Ellis wanted to write when he was a senior in high school. Instead, he produced Less Than Zero (1985) which captured what Ellis identifies as the paradoxical feeling of numbness in 80s Los Angeles and launched his career as one of the most prominent novelists of the era. In his own words, it was “a vibe book.” Where Less Than Zero finds teenagers slouching in the shadows of their decisions, the autofiction of The Shards uses the sounds, colors, and textures of the past to recall with unflinching clarity the world of Bret’s youth and to reckon with the motives and actions of those teenagers.
On Friday, February 3, Ellis spoke at The Sheldonian Theater to introduce The Shards. Readers follow 17-year-old Bret through his senior year at The Buckley School, an elite college preparatory day school in Los Angeles, as his relationships with friends weave in and out of their city’s complex sociopolitical landscape. The novel is Ellis’s first in thirteen years. In jeans, a black hoodie, and a polo shirt he confesses to the gathered crowd, “I didn’t have the talent to write a book with as many characters as I imagined. [At 17], I was a liar. I was living a fake life.” He likens being a writer to possessing a superpower – one that he could not control until he gained more experience with his craft.
When the pandemic hit, Ellis looked up people he knew from his past. He was haunted that he couldn’t find his high school classmates. In his search, Ellis discovered that the coffee shops, the malls, and the movie theaters where he and his friends hung out in high school had all been raised. There was the first spark of inspiration. “The novel wouldn’t be narrated by the 17-year-old Bret, but the 57-year-old man who could flesh out the entire tragedy, who could give context to the horrific events that happen in the book.”
For this reason, New York Times Books critic, Melissa Broder, recognizes “an exciting new vulnerability” in The Shards. Indeed, Ellis stresses during the talk that his book is above all about “the people I loved.” The author explains, “My alienation at that time prompted me to become a writer… I led a solitary existence made up of disappearing into books and movies, being obsessed with music… It’s my turn now to write about myself at that age. The things I went through. The things that haunted me.”
In the claustrophobic numbness of 1981 Los Angeles, Bret’s alienation acts as a centripetal force for the narrative. Ellis attributes this, in part, to his closeted gay existence. At Buckley, “we were secret agents sending out signals to each other.” He asserts that, just as he did not shy away from Patrick Bateman’s illusions in American Psycho (1991), he would not hide from the complex fantasies of Bret coming to grips with his own sexuality. “A lot of critics think this book has too much sex in it, too much masturbation, that the Bret character has too many fantasies, but if you’re a 17-year-old boy, you want sex constantly. To not have Bret describe the sex he has with girls and boys would be inauthentic.”
In our conversation after the talk, I ask Ellis what the virtue is in building his texts around his own life experience. “Everyone that is a successful writer ultimately writes what they know regardless of genre. Even science fiction writers create fantasies that are very personal about their longings and about what they aspire to.”
Ellis published Less Than Zero while still a 21-year-old student at Bennington College in Vermont. I mention to him the popular Podcast, Once Upon a Time in Bennington, that details his time as an undergraduate with other culture-defining novelists, Donna Tartt and Jonathan Lethem. What was it like to live and work in a community of aspiring writers? “It was both exciting and daunting. I thought I was [the best writer in the school] until I read Donna’s work. Then I realized she was probably the best.” He shakes his head no with a smile when my follow up is whether he has a hidden part in Tartt’s novel about students who attend a fictional college in Vermont, The Secret History (1992). “Unfortunately, if I had known that so many people would be so interested in that particular time at that particular college and who we were, I think we all would have behaved a lot differently.”
All three writers went on to produce novels that would captivate the literary world to varying degrees, but unlike Tartt and Lethem, Ellis – maybe for having grown up in LA, maybe because movies were reliable friends in his teenage years – felt drawn to Hollywood. “I regret those years.” He spent much of the early and mid 2000s writing scripts that went through rewrites of rewrites until their stories became unrecognizable from the original or were commissioned but never ultimately produced. Ellis looks back on that time as a failed enterprise. “Those were my 40s and 50s. That’s when writers produce their great novels, and I was in Hollywood writing things that never got made.”
The dedication to The Shards reads “for no one,” and Ellis states plainly, “I didn’t write it for the audience. I’m not that kind of writer.” However, the implications of revisiting the past are not lost on the people gathered in the Sheldonian or the future reader of the novel. Ellis began his career when people congregated at box offices for the event of a big screen picture, before social media reduced the time allotted for a narrative to develop. While the way we receive and internalize stories will always change, the basic human emotions that drive them are consistent – perhaps, persistent. When Ellis brings back the songs and the movies and the characters from the 80s in The Shards, he demonstrates how mature memory may access the whole story. It’s not about vibes anymore.
The Shards by Brett Easton Ellis is 608 pages and published by Knopf. It is available at Blackwell’s for £21.99.
Another week has passed and no doubt far too many hot chocolates have been consumed. My advice? – treat it as a form of self-care! I always tell regulars, a chocolate (or two) a day keeps the doctor away.
Knoops is obviously famed for its hot chocolates and that’s certainly the thing that makes people keep on coming back but there is one item on the menu that sometimes goes under the radar: the mocha.
I think this is for a few reasons. For a start, most people don’t realise that it’s on offer, drawn in simply by the standard chocolates. After that though, even more are unaware that you can personalise it to your heart’s content, just like a chocolate. And this is where you enter a world of possibilities…
The mochas are made much like the hot chocolates and not by merely adding a powder like many cafes. The chocolate is still melted in whatever milk you have chosen to achieve that perfect frothiness (the essence of the chocolate as Jens himself might say!) and then the espresso is added afterwards, allowing it to flow through the whole drink.
The standard mocha is offered at 54% but if you ask me, you are best going for a much darker option. The 80% Uganda is my preferred to give that smoky touch to the coffee. Otherwise, the 64% brings a fruity element into play and the 72% from Peru has a distinct bitterness that works superbly.
Elsewhere, the mocha milkshake can serve as the ultimate indulgence. The 96% and the 80% both bring an intensity balanced out by the ice cream to make a dream combination. Feeling out of the box? Go for the 28%. Usually, the white chocolate is far too sweet with the soft-serve milkshake but the coffee can bring in that perfect balance whilst still having the sweet vanilla notes.
That’s it from me this week – check back soon for more advice and tips on how to make the most of that Turl Street indulgence…
FS:Firstly, I have to check: is it Tem-e-sis or Tem-ee-sis? I’ve heard it pronounced both ways.
Nathaniel: It doesn’t really matter, there’s no set way, but we settled on Tem-e-sis because it’s easy to explain (rhymes with nemesis). It’s an anglicised version of the Latin name for the Thames, we added the h to make it more familiar-looking. The Latin word has obscure roots but seems to come from a Sanskrit word for dark things, so I like the fact that [the name] is what you know about the Thames but slightly skewed, slightly mysterious.
How much is the show about the river?
Nathaniel: The river is a much bigger part than the script lets on at the start. (…) The play started off as me doing research into the Thames and finding it really interesting and then where that lead me in terms of Britain’s ancient culture and religion. So yeah, the river is pretty central to the play.
Can you give a brief summary of the play?
Nathaniel: It’s quite hard to describe the play as the form of it is very different to the content of the play. A man arrives on the stage to deliver a performance in celebration of the festival [of Midsummer] and the night doesn’t quite go to plan. His performance begins to unravel, and he’s forced to confront the secrets of his past that he didn’t want to face. It ties together literary heritage with your own personal history and the way in which you can parallel obscured history with your own forgotten past.
Did you do research into pagan rituals for the show?
Nathaniel: That side of the play very much comes from my own interest in it, I did 2-3 years of research not with the intention of writing the play, just because I’m interested in it. I study Classics and the idea of geographical theology and gods within a place I found really interesting. (…) The idea of gods that are very tied to the natural world and the changing seasons and using that as a starting point for religious practise in ritual and reflection. So there’s a lot groundwork that’s been done that’s (…) hardly scratched in the play but that just about comes to the surface.
Given that most people, when they think of pagan rituals especially in the modern day, associate them with group worship such as that practiced at Stonehenge, why did you choose to stage this as a one a man-show?
Nathaniel: In terms of the pagan stuff, I think it’s actually very common for a lot of people that follow these rituals and processes for them to do it in solitude… If you look online there’s a lot of stuff about being pagans in solitude, and I think it’s because a lot of the festivals you can do by yourself. There is a big community spirit to a lot of them and their original roots are big community festivals, but a lot of it is about using season markers and seasonal changes as a parallel to your own life. It’s very introspective, using the outside world for your own personal meditation and reflection, so a lot of it can be done in solitude which is very nice and contemplative.
I chose to do it as a one man show because the way that I use the festivals both in real life and in the play is extremely personal and takes it into this idea of how the outside world and nature can really force you to look at yourself and consider yourself in this cycle of seasons, and where you fit into that with your own personal history.
How much of yourself is in the play and its central character? Did you always know you were going to play them?
Nathaniel: I think someone else could have performed it, it didn’t have to be me. I think it was very much written in my voice which is good and bad: a lot of rehearsals have been us thinking about how a lot of the script is just the way that I talk…The processes of using these festivals and some of the revelations towards the end are based on my own experiences but at the same time we have pushed it into the fantasy world and into a narrative that’s not wholly mine. It’s kind of like 60/40 autobiographical and fictional.
What has it been like directing Nathaniel, both working with his writing and as an actor in his own play?
Leah: I think it’s worked surprisingly well. Me and Nathaniel are very good friends, but I think it’s been good because it’s helped me to understand how to separate the character from the person and see kind of how that can physically be done, and also to see how the writer and the performer separates… The most challenging thing is the physicality and trying to separate idiosyncrasies from Nathaniel as a person from the character, trying to make sure the performance is performative. [The show] is quite didactic in a lot of senses, it’s teaching the audience about the traditions of midsummer that they might not have heard of, so it’s been quite challenging to figure out that balance of teaching and also connecting. It’s a difficult piece to act—I don’t think I’d want to act it.
Have you directed before? How has this been different?
Leah: I direct most of the Oxford Revue shows, I also directed to my Cuppers play ‘Punchline’ which I wrote as a one-person play. This is different scale because there’s so much of it but also because the language is so beautiful and so well crafted… every single transition has its own purpose. It has been difficult to have that overarching feeling of what an audience will understand, versus what I understand, and what Nathaniel understands, especially as we’re both neurodivergent so we thought we might find it challenging to see the big picture. It’s actually worked really well though.
Has it just been your two voices in the rehearsal room or more people?
Nathaniel: We’ve got quite a tight knit crew—everyone in the crew, apart from Faye, our composer, I’d already worked with a lot, some of them for years. When it came to the journey of getting this onto the stage, I just wanted people I could trust, not only with the work but with being able to give as much input as possible. I sent the original draft out to I think six script editors? I was just like, “I trust you all, not only with my personal experience but with like my work to tell me what you think and what you think can be changed.” (…) We have about four dramaturges that have been there since the start and it’s not just a cast of look at the script once and then go away – some are helping with marketing and production and things so it is very collaborative process. (…) In the rehearsal room it has been like people coming in and out but it has mostly been me and Leah which has been really nice. I think what Leah does so well is bring out the fun in a script, she really has the ability to draw life out of the script and into the performance which has been really fun to learn. It’s also been really nice to have this relaxed setting because obviously the work is quite vulnerable so it’s been nice with Leah to make it as silly as possible, to push it as far as it can go and then pull it back and think about ‘right, how is this going to work in a performance space?’
Leah: I think it’s really important [to have this kind of relationship], I think sometimes in a lot of spaces within OUDS it can get a bit too formal and we just don’t get that much of a sense of camaraderie between the cast and the director. I’ve been on the other side as an actor, so has Nathaniel as producer, and those perspectives have been really helpful for us both.
Are you nervous about performing something so personal, which has so far only been shared with people you are very close to?
Nathaniel: Surprisingly I’m actually not too nervous about sharing the content—a lot of the content is very personal but they are experiences I’m very open about and have frequent conversations with people about, and it’s (I hope) far enough removed from my experience that it’s not too personal… What I’m more nervous about is the vulnerability of acting, I think especially in front of people that I’ve produced and been in charge of, having those tables flipped and having to act for [them]. I’m excited, especially because I’m singing in it as well which is very healing for me and very calming in the play as well. So not too nervous as of yet—maybe once we get to Tuesday!
Why should people come and see the show?
Leah: It’s beautiful, it’s organic, there’s an original folk score, and it’s the most refreshing thing I’ve seen in Oxford drama – I’ve never seen or heard anything like it.
Nathaniel: Not to toot my own horn but people should come because hopefully they will learn something about the practices of a culture that is quite underground in contemporary Britain, and there is a lot of teaching about this throughout the show. It’s a fun, different way of playing with the form of theatre, an exploration of the performance space and what that means for the character. (…) I think it will be a very different experience of watching a play than what most people are used to in student drama.
Cherwell has found that college balls are becoming less affordable, despite increased access initiatives. While the median standard ticket price has decreased over the last year, the median price of “access tickets” has increased. Students from low-income backgrounds or facing financial hardships are often priced out of attending balls, even at their own college.
Last week, the news of the St Hugh’s Ball cancellation angered many Hughs students and raised concerns for those who had purchased an access ticket for this event. These tickets were amongst the cheapest on offer this season, being sold at half price, £57.5. Given that the stated reasoning for the failure of the ball was financial risk, tied to insufficient ticket sales, this raises deeper concerns than access to one event. In regards to affordability of balls at Oxford, there is a serious question for whether accessibility remains affordable.
The median ticket prices for both white and black tie college balls are lower than last year’s by about £11. The price of the median access ticket, however, has risen by about £25. This exceeds the impact of inflation, meaning low-income students are paying more in real terms.
Moreover, the access tickets are amounting to less of a discount when compared to the price of a standard ticket. The median access ticket last year was 44% less than the median standard ticket, while this year it is only 41% less.
The value of the subsidies provided does not appear to correlate with the percentage of low-income students at each college, according to figures listed in the 2021 annual admissions report. Colleges with a proportion of low-income students above the university average of 13.3%, like Mansfield and Hertford, did not sell any access tickets last year. Meanwhile, Lincoln College, where only 5.9% of 2021 admits were from low-income backgrounds, offered some of the most generous access ticket prices at 25% of standard price or free. The disparity of subsidies across colleges demonstrates that access measures are not always adapted to assist those with the most need.
The relative wealth of a college has an understandable impact on the availability of access tickets, though not as dramatic as may be expected. All but one of the five wealthiest colleges per capita did not offer subsidised tickets for its students. On the lower end of the scale, the poorer colleges tend to not offer access tickets, with the significant exception of Lady Margaret Hall, which boasted comprehensive access schemes for their ball. At LMH, all Crankstart scholars and those who have previously completed the Foundation Year programme received half-priced tickets to the 2022 ball, while those currently on the Foundation Year programme attended the ball for free.
This comparison does not take into account colleges which offer flexible reimbursement or other access schemes of unspecified monetary value. Three balls fell into this category last year, including St Catherine’s ball, “Eclipse”. The Catz JCR voted to put aside £5000 to ensure “that any JCR member that wants to come to the ball but for whatever reason is unable to pay the full ticket price can get support”. Following this announcement, an email was sent to all undergraduates a week before ticket release explaining how to apply for “a fully-subsidised or partially-subsidised ball ticket”.
Amongst the balls in 2022-23, three balls are implementing similar broad affordability schemes, including Merton’s and Magdalen’s white tie commemoration balls. On the whole, it seems that those wishing to attend a white tie ball are more likely to find access tickets: six out of seven of the commemoration balls within the past two years offered subsidies and reimbursements. Many white tie balls also develop partnerships with local dres shops and clothing rental services. New College, for example, partnered with Rathbone Tailors to provide a 20% discount for clothing hire. However, hiring a full suit with a tailcoat or an evening gown with optional gloves and tiara, as is required by the dress code, can cost nearly as much as a ticket for a cheaper ball.
The only white-tie ball which did not offer significant quantities of tickets at low cost was Queen’s’, the cheapest white tie ball in 2022. General rather than targeted affordability seemed to be a priority of planners in this case.
David Hamer, Co-President of this year’s Crankstart Ball, understands this strategy. Since the allocation of access tickets is limited, means-tested, or restricted to a certain bursary category, it can be difficult to fairly distribute these subsidies, especially since financial information is protected and personal. Hamer admits that “you could definitely argue that the only appropriate action is to reduce the cost of the ball for all and sacrifice some of the extravagance for accessibility”. However, he caveats his statement, adding that the money lost in cheaper tickets would have to be made up in college support or sponsorship.
This year, the overall decline in ticket prices does not help the students who would most benefit from subsidised tickets. Bursaries from the UK government, the University of Oxford, and colleges help students pay for living expenses and other costs of student life. However, the government Maintenance Loan has not risen on par with inflation over the last year, rising only 2.3% while the Consumer Price Index has risen 9.2% year on year as of December 2022. In contrast, the university’s flagship scholarship program for students from lower income households, the Crankstart Scholarship, has risen by £500. College financial support varies from dedicated bursaries to hardship funds.
Nonetheless, there are options for students whose college does not offer a sufficiently inexpensive ball. Many society balls, like the LGBT Society’s Glitterball or the University Biological Society Ball, offer ball tickets below £60, though some require membership to obtain the lowest priced tickets. The Crankstart Ball, the first event of its kind dedicated to low-income students in many years, sold all tickets for under £70, including guest tickets. Crankstart scholars also received tickets costing around £59.
The Crankstart Ball organisers wanted to make the event as “accessible as possible”. In Hamer’s experience, “there has absolutely been an expectation at Oxford for students to go to college balls.” This expectation – combined with the decision of many colleges to evict students from certain areas of the college on the night of the ball – means that even those who cannot afford the tickets feel pressured into buying them anyways.
With the increase in cost of living and the decrease of access tickets, balls are becoming less affordable for low-income students. If only the most extravagant commemoration balls, at the richest colleges, offer meaningful access schemes, then the tradition of the Oxford college ball may become increasingly out of reach.
A lot has changed in the year that has passed since I last reviewed Table D’Alix in Great Haseley. I was more than relieved though to discover that things there were reassuringly similar. A new star chef and new dishes yes, but the restaurant is still a warm, inviting atmosphere to enjoy the kind of authentic French experience almost impossible to find here.
We were welcomed with a firm handshake at the door by Antoine as always: the owner and maître d’ leading the team with his friendliness, passion, and knowledge. Seated in the corner I was able to survey the scene and remind myself of what a fantastic main dining room Table D’Alix has. Light pours in, bouncing off the trademark chandelier and highlighting a set-up full of perfect little touches.
Bread, as one would expect, arrived first alongside a Ricard for the full French experience. I intended to save some of the warm selection of freshly baked rolls for my moules later on — suffice to say there was no chance. Tartare de Bouef is one of my favourite French dishes and is one of the hardest to find overseas. This one arrived with the perfect selection of sauces and was made great by its incredibly rich Burford Brown egg yolk.
Next up from the starters was a truly unique lobster dish. It consists of half a lobster served with potatoes in a rich cognac lobster bisque. That remarkable richness is explained by Antoine, who talked me the through the process. The lobsters come in every morning and the heads are boiled straight away and all day, reducing down to make a sumptuous bisque that would easily be delicious enough on its own as a soup, never mind when paired with the fresh claw meat.
Moules frites were next, this week’s featured dish in Table D’Alix’s ‘Tour de France’. Every Thursday they offer a classic French dish, think Boeuf Bourguignon or Coq au Vin, a glass of wine, and mousse au chocolat for just £25. The deal is superb value and is just the kind of reason that somewhere such as this manages to survive where so many other pubs and restaurants fail. There is nothing snobby about Table d’Alix and it has inserted itself into the local community with the kind of ease that many owners across the country dream of. The moules themselves are perfect of course. Having taken slightly longer to come into season this year they are now well-sized and served alongside traditionally crispy fries.
The other main course we had was one of the true showstoppers and undoubtedly one of my favourite dishes of the year so far. It was a whole Dover Sole served on the bone (as you may be aware by now, just how I love it!), with a rich caper butter. The sheer amount of fish is incredible and easily enough to share between two — the plethora of capers only adds to the perfect counter to the indulgent butter. Get it served with the Petit Pois a la Francaise for the dream combo. These are to die for, cooked in butter and pancetta to leave you wanting more and more — something I rarely say about peas!
And then cheese. I was struggling to know where to start with this but on a basic level, there is just one thing you need to know: here in Great Haseley there is still a cheese trolley. There is no skimping and taking the options anywhere near a fridge to ruin the flavour and the diverse selection is perfect. For me, the standout was a delightfully punchy goat’s cheese from Corsica.
Deserts, if you make it, are ridiculously indulgent as you might expect. The Surprise du Chef au Chocolat is made by the crisp honeycomb biscuits that it comes with and the hazlenuts balance the intensely dark chocolate. Save some red wine from your cheese for the perfect combination!
And I haven’t even mentioned the wine! Our Ricard, Port, and Guy Saget Chardonnay were all lovely but I cannot finish without writing of one of the best value wines I’ve tasted in a long time. The Chateau du Haut-Plateau Saint-Emilion is a 2015 vintage and available by the glass and the bottle for just £52. Its earthiness was genuinely standout for the price and the nose an absolute dream. It’s one of those reds that goes with pretty much everything and you can genuinely keep drinking all night long.
Table d’Alix really is one of the most unique and special restaurants I have ever visited. Still a fairly well-kept secret, I just can’t see it staying that way for long. The new head chef previously spent six years at Le Manoir Quatre Saisons and regular visits from Raymond Blanc, his guests, and his staff only point to just how remarkable the food is. Homely, reasonably priced, and above all delicious, there really is something for everyone here. Come from Oxford or much further afield and set up shop for the afternoon or evening — there really is no more worthwhile way to spend your time.
The narrator of Robert Harris’s thriller, ‘The Ghost’, has no name. He is only ever referred to as ‘The Ghost’, and the narrative – an international conspiracy surrounding the manuscript for an ex-Prime Minister’s memoir – makes revealing his identity tantamount to a death sentence.
Harris seriously glamorises the figure of the ghostwriter in his novel (and even more so in its 2010 film adaptation, starring Ewan MacGregor as a very sexy Ghost). Ghostwriters do not routinely face death every time they are contracted. Still, there does seem to be something inherently glamorous about the job: perhaps it’s in the high-stakes subterfuge, or maybe it’s a quality that rubs off from celebrity subjects as distinguished as Sir Alex Ferguson, Gwyneth Paltrow and Victoria Beckham, to name a few. Ghostwriting even kickstarted Nas’s career, which took off after he write Will Smith’s 1998 hit, Getting Jiggy Wit It.
Subterfuge, however, doesn’t seem to be of much interest to J. R. Moehringer, Prince Harry’s unconventional ghostwriter. Moehringer confirmed his role in Spare on Twitter, where he retweets those praising his craft. His coy Twitter bio reads, ‘Author of The Tender Bar and Sutton and other stuff’. Having been profiled by everyone from Tatler to the Economist, this Ghost is evidently changing the criteria of what an effective ghostwriter is and does: much like Robert Harris’s invisible Ghost being played by a movie star, Moehringer gives a new meaning to the phrase ‘celebrity ghostwriter’.
Amid allegations of slander in Spare, Moehringer has retweeted a slightly bizarre quote from Harry’s memoir: “Whatever the cause, my memory is my memory… there’s just as much truth in what I remember and how I remember it as there is in so-called objective facts.” Harry talks of his memoir with a sort of post-truth defensiveness which grew uncomfortably familiar during the Trump tenure. However, Harry’s disdain for “so-called objective facts” also reminds us of the ways in which a memoir is fiction. That’s not necessarily to accuse Harry of lying in his memoir, but to underscore the vital role of literary craft in wrestling the awkward shape of a human life into a coherent narrative.
Spare occupies a contentious space between autobiography and biography – between fiction and nonfiction. The reader gets a real sense that Harry wants to use it to provide a counternarrative which will redress the fictions of the British press. Nevertheless, being public about employing a ghostwriter means that the reader is uncannily aware of Prince Harry’s voice in Spare as a manufactured persona which Moehringer adopts. This is a technique familiar from literary fiction, where we can never assume that a narrator is the author themselves. Narrators are instead characterised by their description of events – or rather, their version of events. As Moehringer’s Tweet emphasises, Harry has openly admitted his unreliability as a narrator.
It’s tempting to read Spare in search of the ghostwriter, rather than Harry’s ‘truth’. Catching a glimpse of the author peeking out from behind the mask of character is an ‘Aha!’ moment that feels a lot like figuring out a magician’s trick or spotting a stage’s trapdoor. In Spare, Moehringer concerns himself with this kind of stage magic; he seems most visible in his references to Shakespeare.
Harry readily admits that he’s “not really big on books” in the memoir: he gets confused on his first date with Meghan when she says she’s having an ‘Eat Pray Love’ summer. Spare is quick to capitalise on this early, pre-Meghan image of Harry as the millennial, rugby-playing prince who knew how to party, who calls his friends ‘mate’ and served in the army instead of going to university. The Harry which Spare gives us is once more the universal crush whose unparalleled eligibility spawned its own reality TV show, I Wanna Marry Harry, where twelve American women competed for the affections of a man they thought was the prince. Part of his appeal has always been his lack of academic pretentiousness: the country remembers how Harry only managed to scrape two A levels (a B in Art and a D in Geography, in case you were wondering).
Harry confesses that he struggled to share his father’s love of Shakespeare. “I tried to change,” he insists. “I opened Hamlet. Hmm: Lonely prince, obsessed with dead parent, watches remaining parent fall in love with dead parent’s usurper . . . ? I slammed it shut. No, thank you.”
Harry makes a lot of Shakespearean references for someone who ostensibly slammed Hamlet shut. For starters, there’s the description of Charles’s appearance when he told his sons of Diana’s death: “His white dressing gown made him seem like a ghost in a play”. Ironically, it is Harry who seems most like the iconic ‘ghost in a play’ nowadays; for English readers, Spare works a lot like one of Old Hamlet’s cries of ‘Remember me!’ which echo, disembodied, from somewhere offstage.
As Rebecca Mead’s recent review for The New Yorker points out, it seems that Moehringer has lent Harry the very Shakespearean reference library which he lacks, to great literary effect. Moehringer makes Shakespeare a focal point in Spare; an extended metaphor around which Harry’s difficulties with his father cluster. English cultural heritage and the questions of succession raised by Hamlet morph into Harry’s own uncomfortable inheritance of a royal role which never quite fit him. A visit to Frogmore Gardens in which Harry tries to justify his choice to abandon England and his royal duties is framed in these tragic terms: Harry, William and Charles “were now smack in the middle of the Royal Burial Ground,” Harry describes, “more up to our ankles in bodies than Prince Hamlet.”
Spare casts the drama of monarchy as a Shakespearean tragedy: in the wake of a matriarch’s death, Moehringer draws his reader’s attention, however morbidly, to the fear that monarchy might be a dark system which continues as a direct result of repeating patterns of death and succession. The pages of Spare are thick with ghosts, literary and otherwise.
Like Hamlet, Spare is punctuated by howls of raw grief, even in its most bizarre moments. Harry recalls the very smell of his mother in the Elizabeth Arden cream he uses to treat an unfortunate case of frostbite on his ‘todger’. As ghostwriter, Moehringer ensures that the spectre of Diana casts a long shadow over every page of his memoir. In all earnestness, it is a very moving way to paint a sympathetic portrait of the prince as a boy who never recovered from the loss of his mother. How could he have?
‘Spare’, unfortunately, has more ghosts to offer. However, the narrative spends far more time with the memory of Diana than with the 25 Afghans who Harry admits to killing. It breaks an unspoken military code of conduct to publicly own up to the number of lives one has taken during service; moreover, it betrays a certain callousness about death which has previously been documented in Harry’s 2008 interview with the Press Association, when he compared his military duties to playing PlayStation. Harry is quick to deny the “dangerous lie” that he was boasting about these kills, and protests that his words have been taken out of context. The words are: ‘“So, my number is 25. It’s not a number that fills me with satisfaction, but nor does it embarrass me”. Veterans have argued that he should never have disclosed the number of people he has killed; others may suggest that he never should have killed to begin with.
Moehringer must have foreseen the PR disaster this disclosure would trigger, and the fact that it for many, it stands in the way of a sympathetic reading of Harry’s life. In this, and in several other cases in the book, Moheringer seems to be building up an emphatically warts-and-all portrait of Harry. Perhaps he was following Shakespeare’s guidance: as Hamlet puts it, “He was a man, take him for all in all, / I shall not look upon his like again.” Though imagery of ‘Spare’ is ghostwritten, the confessions, after all, must be Harry’s own. The most polemical moments of ‘Spare’ prompt us to question the ghostwriter’s loyalties, and royalties; as ghostwriter, Moehringer is not acting as Harry’s loyal subject, but instead seems to have prioritised making the book as controversial (and therefore commercially successful) as possible. Again, Moeheringer is carving out a new, less submissive role for the ghostwriter: one who is visible in his text and exploits the gap between author and narrator for his own ends.
It is hard to tell whether Moehringer is part of a growing trend in visibility and remuneration for ghostwriters, and for literary labourers in general. It’s not easy to measure the evolution of a trade where the mark of a job well done is typically the fact that there are no marks left at all. Traditionally, a ghostwriter receives around 33% of a book’s advance, plus royalties; I wonder whether publishing houses would prefer to pay a premium for a ghost’s discretion, or for the services of a public ghost like Moehringer, whose reputation precedes him.The literary translator finds themselves in a similar predicament. The proportion of the market made up of translated books has nearly doubled in 2022, illustrating shifting attitudes to translation and authorship. Perhaps readers are starting to care less about feeling a sense of proximity to the original author’s voice. Take a celebrity translator like Ann Goldstein: her sensitive translations of Elena Ferrante, Primo Levi and Jhumpa Lahiri make up a body of work worth reading in its own right. Goldstein’s prose is a creative achievement just as valuable, you could argue, as the original author’s text.
Moehringer is bringing the profession of ghostwriting out of the shadows, following the model provided by translation, where both collaborators are upfront about their involvement. Like Goldstein, Moehringer is building a personal oeuvre and a literary identity which is separate from his celebrity subjects. The striking similarities between the covers of Spare and Open – Andre Agassi’s memoir, which Moehringer also ghostwrote – demonstrate that Moehringer intends to leave a signature of his own personal style on his works, as a celebrity ghostwriter who is famous in his own right. His Twitter account only confirms this: @JRMoehringer has 13.3K followers and counting. In turning the habitual invisibility of the ghostwriter inside out, Moehringer is a reminder of the literary craft that goes into life-writing; by filling Spare with ghosts and writers, Moehringer gestures towards his craft and ensures the success of his work.
Harry has not quite managed to reclaim his narrative with Spare: all anyone wants to talk about seems to be his frostbitten penis. He has, however, made a lot of people – including himself – considerably wealthier. I’m sure Moehringer has been compensated handsomely.
2) Play structures that are really easy to replicate in your review.
3) Really funny improv.
Improvised audience interaction is mandated in Duncan Macmillan’s script for Every Brilliant Thing, and Aspden deals with it excellently, carrying off extended improv sequences with audience members with impressive humour and skill. Even in instances where the audience members concerned didn’t exactly go where the script led them (for example, on the night I saw it, the audience member chosen to play the protagonist’s partner declining a wedding proposal), she redirected the scene effectively. It is true that the mechanics of these changes were obvious to the audience, but the casual and conversational style of these scenes permits a drawing-back of the curtain; there is no fourth wall to be broken.
4) Convincing and well-timed mood shifts.
5) Innovative Pilch configuration.
For a venue with no set seating configurations, it is surprising how few productions take the leap and put the Pilch in the round. This was absolutely the right show to do it. It is difficult to imagine EBT being staged any other way, as the perambulatory style requires the audience to surround the performer. The audience interaction, too, demands that the audience are able to see each other – this all worked excellently in the Pilch.
6) Audience participation that, on the whole, works well.
7) Plays in the round where the actor makes the most of the space.
8) Intelligent and well-written scripts.
Macmillan’s script skilfully balances humour and seriousness, and conveys with precision the complex emotions the protagonist feels throughout the piece. It is a sensitive exploration of guilt, grief, and self-reflection, and Aspden lets it lead her with grace. The conversational tone and improvised sections allow, however, for slips and pauses in the performance, moments where – for a second – the actor loses their thread before picking it up again. Aspden’s performance contained a few such moments, where she would occasionally forget a word or let the character fall, but the nature of the script transformed them from flaws to quirks, charming the audience with the acknowledgment of performance.
9) Music that adds to, rather than detracts from, the action.
It was primarily illustrative: for example, there is a scene where the protagonist lists various musicians and songs, and a small section is played from each one – this choice was essential in conveying mood to the audience. The script is rather intellectual (requiring knowledge of, for example, Mahler, or The Sorrows of Young Werther), and choosing to illustrate the pieces listed meets the audience on an equal footing. Moreover, it creates a diversity of expression which well matches the patchwork, collage-like aesthetic of the whole production. It is worth mentioning, however, that the musical aspects of audience interaction were some of the more difficult to pull off; if the audience member you have chosen doesn’t happen to know the lyrics of the song you’d like them to sing, you’re in a bit of a difficult situation. This and the construction of the piano from members of the audience, were perhaps the moments where the performance felt least secure, and the inclusion of audience became a hindrance to the storytelling.
10) Excellent comic timing.
11) The ability to do all the heavy lifting in an improv segment.
12) Low-pressure and engaging actor-audience connection.
13) Cosy, relaxed sets that help create a comfortable vibe.
The inclusion in the seating of a mismatched collection of armchairs, beanbags, and cushions, created effectively a relaxed atmosphere and sense of community. The feeling in the Pilch was more akin to that of a welcoming and well-funded JCR than to the austerity of a black-box theatre.
14) Pre-show audience interaction.
15) Well-timed and paced shows.
16) Being able to laugh about harrowing situations.
17) Plays that feel like stand-up comedy in Common Ground.
One of the absolute strengths of this production is that – though certainly innovative in its use of the space it is given – it creates a new space that nevertheless seems familiar. Everything about the production will have been, for each member of the audience, reminiscent of a real-life situation they have been in. This skilfully brings the action and text of the play home to each audience member; not only are we being spoken to directly as an audience, but also as individuals. While this makes some aspects of the script (particularly the protagonist’s advice to not commit suicide, and the explanation of the Samaritans*) sound a little like public service announcements, they nevertheless are extremely impactful. This performance of Every Brilliant Thing may indeed have succeeded where so many productions fail, in that I believe it is likely to have made a lasting impression on every single person who has watched it.
18) Including crew in the action.
19) Working with the script rather than for it.
20) Pretending that 20 is the same as one million as though reviews don’t have word limits (because if they didn’t, we would be here that long).
*The Samaritans are a mental health support charity and helpline, who can be contacted by phone at 116 123 or by email at [email protected]
Oxford, like much of the UK, has experienced the phenomenon of drag over the last few years. The unprecedented success of RuPaul’s Drag Race has allowed a generation of young people to have grown up watching drag, and consequently, many want to try it for themselves. The drag scene in Oxford is a relative unknown for much of the student population here – and this article aims to change that. There is a thriving Drag Scene with performers from both the city and universities alike. Drag and Disorderly at Plush sees a plethora of Drag acts perform, as does Haute Mess at the Bullingdon.
Getting into drag has never been easier in the safe space created by the Oxford LGBTQ+ Society, which hosted a drag cuppers competition last Michaelmas. The two winners of the competition have since performed professionally. And in an exclusive announcement, we can confirm a Drag Ball is actively being organised by the Society. It promises to be a large but relatively low-cost event, tentatively planned to happen at Freud, and will be a fun and stunning celebration of Ballroom culture. There are plans to feature pole dancing, drag queens, dancers, and special talent that will be invited from out of town.
Drag is the queer community’s most visible expression, and its significance cannot be understated. Therefore, it is not without its controversy, even in Oxford. Last August, the County Library in Westgate hosted a Drag Queen Story Hour. The library was closed to the public over security concerns, and police had to separate supporters of the event from those against by fences as the crowds were so large. Leaflets described the drag queen attending the event as “a mentally unwell man”.
So how has this affected Oxford’s drag scene? What is Drag in Oxford really like? Who are the big names? Read on to find out.
Miss Take
Miss Take (she/her), also known as Alfred Dry (he/him) out of drag, tells me she is “the sultry, irreverent teacher of your dreams”. A humorous queen, she “first got into drag as an attempt to bring queer expression and joy into a small little corner of Suffolk. My Catholic school held a talent show in which straight boys often threw on a dress and had a laugh, so I wanted to finally bring some true, informed, celebratory drag to the stage. On the day of the show, I was told that drag is a ‘disrespectful’ art form, and I was not allowed to do it. So now I get into drag to represent a respectable, glorious, and glamorous art form. I also do it because I think I look very pretty. And it’s fun. Really fun.”
“The Oxford Scene has been very welcoming.” Miss Take says. “I have been given some amazing opportunities: I am the first and only drag queen to perform at the Oxford Union, I have been able to write and perform shows in multiple colleges, as well as the den of sin commonly known as Plush, and Miss Take even got the chance to play Madame Arcati in Blithe Spirit. I am beyond grateful for the love and support I have received from the community in Oxford, both queer and straight, and I am particularly grateful for the other drag artists in the city who make every show we do together so enjoyable.”
I ask Miss Take what makes Oxford drag unique: “We are lucky in Oxford to have artists who come from different backgrounds and approach drag from different perspectives. Thus it is difficult to define Oxford Drag as a whole – it is each individual performer that makes Oxford Drag the unique scene it is”.
Miss Take introduces me to some other queens: “We have the wonderful Shroom (@shroomdraguk) who can dance, sew, and perform comedy with ease. She is talented beyond belief and for that I despise her”. Rusty Kate (@rustykatedrag) is an Oxford staple who can sing, smoke and drink all at the same time! I have performed the most with her and I’m still trying to get the smell out of my wig. Londyn (@theellondyn) is the most stunning person on the planet and she could stand there and do nothing yet still be the most mesmerising performer of the night. Izzy Single (@izzysingle.drag) is one of our sexiest drag kings and listening to him sing makes me want to change my name from Miss Take to Mrs Single. Eura Freak (@eurafreakdrag) is another divine drag king who owns any space lucky enough to have him. Then, of course, you have the most beautiful, talented one of all: Miss Take, who has just been awarded Ofsted’s ‘Sexiest Teacher in the Universe’ for the fifth year running (@misstakeofficial). Each of these entertainers brings something different, and I hope the community continues to grow and diversify.”
Bad B
Bad B (she/her), one of the winners of Drag Cuppers, is next. She told me her experience was very rushed: “I made the last-minute decision only an hour before the event actually started to take part.” But after the support of her ‘super encouraging friends and the other competitors, her performance “went down super well with the judges and the crowd”.
Bad B opens up to share her motives for getting into Drag. “I’m a pansexual woman and I never truly felt at peace with my sexuality and my identity as a queer woman. I felt biphobia, like I was a “fake” or that I didn’t belong in queer spaces”. Getting in drag and performing for the first time was “a life changer” for her. “I finally felt valid in my expression as a queer artist and felt the acceptance and love of everyone in the room”.
Drag has always been an interest of Bad B’s. “I started watching Drag Race when Season 5 was airing and I had a family friend that did drag when I was younger. I even performed for her at a local drag competition in my home town. I was really into makeup growing up as a teen with acne and even started doing prom makeup on the side during secondary school to earn a bit of extra cash.
“I’ve been a dancer all my life and sadly had to take a step back when I was diagnosed with my chronic health condition. When I started university I gradually began dancing again and discovered I could take up space as a disabled dancer. Dancing and Expressing myself through the art form has massively helped my mental health and been a release for me. I performed for the first time in heels in Hilary 2022 and that really helped me transition into drag.
“Oxford drag is unique to me in the sense that all of the artists I’ve met have been really authentic to themselves and their drag personas”.
She tells me her advice for someone wanting to get into drag is “Don’t be scared!”. “ Watch some makeup videos of queens you admire, buy a glue stick and practise! Ask your friends or reach out to any local queens if you need any advice or to borrow anything. The queer community at Oxford is so welcoming so it’s the perfect place to start. Drag cuppers are a fantastic place to start without feeling too overwhelmed. I’m really grateful to the OULGBTQ+ Society for organising and continuing to run such inclusive and exciting events.”
Bad B adds that “All of my experiences in oxford have been super positive and everyone has been really respectful.” However “as an afab [assigned female at birth] queen I’ve been asked personal questions about my genitalia and I’ve been told that what I do ‘isn’t real drag’”. Furthermore, “Consent is also a bit of an issue in the drag community. Some audience members think that it is ok to touch performers, especially in ‘sexual’ areas.”
Danny Issues
Danny Issues (he/him), known out of drag as Ruby Firth (she/they) is the first drag king on our list. He tells me “I’m very lucky in that my experience growing up queer has been generally a positive one. I can remember watching my first episodes of RuPaul’s Drag Race with my mum, and I didn’t have to have a terrifying ‘coming out’ moment with the people that mattered – they just gradually realised what was up!”
“However,” Danny is keen to emphasise, “I’m very much not a performer by nature, so getting into drag was a scary concept to me. I entered into Drag Cuppers on a whim. But as your classic high-strung Oxford student, I couldn’t just do things halfway: I had to put in FULL effort. This involved at least half a bottle of hair gel and at least an hour spent working out how to do my makeup and bind my chest! (And also I somehow came out with a fully conceptualised character. I think it’s my law student brain crying out for some creativity…)”
Danny tells me that his “overarching thought about drag in Oxford is one of immense gratitude. As a person with a generally anxious disposition, I have been pretty intimidated from the start. But everyone has made me feel so welcome, and I am learning so much! Drag in Oxford is genuinely open to everyone – if you want to get involved, it really can be as easy as just getting in touch with a performer you like!”
Rusty Kate (she/her) is perhaps one of the most well-known Queens in the student scene having been a columnist for Cherwell, and an avid performer. In a bout of quick wit she tells me “Rusty started as a cure for a very serious chronic condition I had as a slowly ageing twink in Oxford: I wanted more attention. There’s something about a crowd screaming for you that fills me with more serotonin than a father’s love could ever provide. What once was a busted princess lip syncing to Toxic by Britney Spears is now Rusty Kate: a busted grandma singing Toxic by Britney Spears”. Rusty’s success is unquestionable: “In the last two years, I’ve rusticated and have now gone into drag as a full-time business. I travel all around the country doing shows wherever will take me, from club nights to prides, one-woman comedy shows to campy bingo calling. I love what I do, and I’m so lucky to have made a viable career for myself in the arts.”
Rusty loves the Oxford scene as it “has quite a bit of variety for such a small scene”. “I’d say what makes Oxford drag unique for me is the types of jokes I can make. I can toe the line on sensitive topics and make niche political commentary that just wouldn’t land if I was around a load of middle-aged Tories in a small town in the Midlands. It’s the student crowd that are so supportive of the art that really inspires the next generation of Oxford Kings and Queens to don their wigs.”
Shroom
Shroom (she/they) has a very bubbly personality. They described themselves as an “aggressively passionate vegan” who studies Maths and Philosophy. “It was inevitable for me to get into drag” she said, “when I was younger I made people sit down and watch me lip sync to songs.” Shroom told me in a “juicy scoop” that she realised she was gay at age 10 “sat on the toilet wiping my ass. But I thought I can’t be gay – I’m not Ellen De Generes – I don’t have a pixie cut – how can I be a dyke?”.
After getting into [RuPaul’s] Drag Race at age 12 Shroom said “I always knew I wanted to do it. I had to wait till I came to uni. And then it was just a matter of time before Shroom was born. I started in the bedroom, just like practising face makeup and making my partner at the time watch an extortionist amount on lipsyncs.” Shroom reached out to the “girlies” at Drag and Disorderly who she “plugs all the way” and they agreed to add her on to their Plush nights. “And then from there, it just spiralled into the insanity that it is so cool.”
“In terms of performance, my drag is high energy, fun, and also silly. I love it. I love doing a comedy number. I love a fierce lipsync. I’m currently working on a number at the moment to turn the friggin frogs gay.” Shroom says her aim is to “try and be very like inclusive, warm, friendly. Little bit sexy. And funny.”
Shroom talks openly about her experiences being female-presenting in the typically male-dominated drag scene. “I was very aware of it at the beginning. I thought I had to wear nails to every gig. Part of the reason why my makeup is so exaggerated is because I was like, ‘Well, I can’t just look like me and makeup’ – I have to clearly be in drag. I wore heavy padding and stuff like that.” But Shroom goes on to say that “as time has gone on, like, now I literally don’t think about it that much. It’s just like another part of it. I do face some bullshit – people will tell me I’m not a drag queen – And I’ll be stood there in full wig with fake eyelashes glued to my face looking like a very intense sexy clown or strange alien stripper. Tell me what I am then, if it’s not drag?”.
Shroom has experienced some “gross” things said to her by non-Oxford queens too, mainly because of her gender identity. However, Shroom says Oxford Drag “feels very much like a family.” “Everyone’s super supportive, we always gossip.” The biggest challenge Shroom says is that “You have to be funny to survive. Because we all just make such fun of each other. Like, the reading is really knee deep, and intense. So sometimes I’m like, oh my god I’m really draining my last bit of wit to try and keep up but it’s the best.”
Salmonella
Salmonella, AKA Acid Sally (they/them) is a drag performer, host, DJ, and founder of Haute Mess, “Oxford’s longest running and premier drag pigsty disco dance party”. Salmonella tells me “When I started going out and dressing up in Oxford there weren’t many people doing drag or dressing up to clubs, and my clubbing experience started to feel homogenised and judgemental”. Therefore, “Haute Mess started because we wanted to give ourselves and others a space to express themselves without judgement, experiment with dressing up and gender performance, to be messy, and to be vulnerable without any judgement. Through Haute Mess we’ve given dozens of performers from all around the country, as well as many Oxford students and locals a stage to express themselves.”
Contrary to many other performers, Salmonella believes “there has always been an unnecessary divide between local and student performers, potentially due to the lack of support from students for non-student events and performers, and many student events being hosted on weekdays making it harder for non-students to attend or perform. Especially since returning to in-person studying after the COVID lockdowns it seems like there are far fewer people wanting to experiment with drag and seek performance opportunities, and this may be largely in part due to the saturation and RuPaulification of drag”. They added that “in my opinion, a lot of the charm of drag comes from the rough around the edges, messy, sweaty imperfections. The unrealistic standard of drag to aspire to a homogenised depiction of drag as synonymous with female impersonation, and the lack of transgressive and politically engaged drag all around has made drag much more sanitised, which is damaging to the performer community, and especially POC performers, AFAB performers, drag kings, and those seeking to explore less crowd-pleasing themes through their performance.”
Donna Marcus Duke
Donna Marcus Duke (they/them) jovially tells me that “I’m going to show my age here, but I started doing drag in about 2014/2015 before I came to Oxford. I’d been hosting fancy dress parties since I was 15 and they were forever an excuse to experiment with my presentation. I kept it up when I came to Oxford, with bops, in particular, offering a fortnightly opportunity to create new looks — albeit low-budget and DIY, but that’s where the fun and creativity lay.”
“At the end of my first year, I met Salmonella, one of the only other students doing drag at the time. We bemoaned the lack of intentionally queer spaces in the city — for as amazing as Plush was, their nights weren’t exactly havens for queer, trans and gender non-conforming folk.” Donna tells me that “A few student groups were experimenting in university theatre spaces, and Ginger Tarte began Oxphwoard — a queer/drag cabaret event at The Bullingdon”. But that “Salmonella and I wanted something more nightlife orientated…So, we started Haute Mess in 2016 as a way to develop an alternative nightlife scene in the city (but mainly also to be able to give ourselves gigs lol). Somehow, it’s kept on going and here we are in 2023 still slogging away.”
After coming up on the scene as a student Donna tells me they found that “the student body in Oxford is fabulously political, and it was a generative (if not brutal) place to come up as a drag queen.” Recalling a Wadham roundtable in 2017 where “the compatibility of drag and trans issues was discussed. Though it was a tricky conversation for all involved, it was a testament to the nuanced politics the scene held at the time and was incredibly beneficial in helping us hone our own politics and code of conduct in drag.”
Donna tells me that “In Oxford, we [drag performers] are very lucky.” What makes Oxford stand out for them is the crowd: “Since graduating I’ve been touring around the UK and Europe, and honestly no crowd is more generous, more excitable and more grateful than the Oxford crowd.” This reputation is being noticed amongst outside performers “as one of the most enjoyable to perform to”. For Donna this is important as “Drag is such a community-orientated creative practice” and a performer is “only as good as the scene that supports them.” In Oxford “there is a bit of a DIY element as the core of Oxford drag — but that also just might be me”. In Iconic words, Donna says “In the face of the city’s grandeur, it’s so tempting to run around looking like shit.”
Scarlett Von Kok
Scarlett Von Kok (she/her) has been “gracing the scene of the south for 6 years now from burlesque shows to theatre shows and club gigs”. She tells me “she does it all!” Starting in musical theatre, she chose a career in drag as a way to use the skills she learned. “So, after some soul searching and an online name generator the iconic “Scarlett Von Kok” or “SVK” was born.”
In Oxford, Scarlett is helping lead ‘The Oxfordshire Drag Collective’ – an Oxfordshire-based drag group that produces shows for both established and upcoming artists. Scarlett herself joined the collective to collaborate with local artists and work in a queer team to bring drag to Oxford, an area she described as with “potential but not many gaping opportunities”.
Scarlett tells me, “I love how the scene is gradually growing as it is full of a wide variety of electric performers and is very welcoming, meaning audiences love to participate and so always leave having a good time.” Looking to the future Scarlett hopes that “the future of the Oxford scene is as colourful as it is now and that it becomes a staple of queer life in Oxford”.
Londyn
Londyn (she/her) is the last Queen on our list. She tells me “I am definitely a part of generation Ru, so drag has always been an interest of mine,” adding, “so I started about a year ago in February at the wonderful club, Plush. They very much welcomed me into their circle, and I did my first number at their Drag and Disorderly show, Where I’ve just been booked since.” For Londyn this has been a personal journey as “Starting drag also helped me realise I am a trans woman.
For Londyn “The drag scene in Oxford is definitely nowhere near as big as somewhere like London or Brighton but it’s definitely blossoming with all the new shows coming out, and loads of new drag artists starting out – it’s lovely seeing Oxford’s drag scene grow into something amazing!”
Although not a Drag performer himself, Jake Hall (he/him) is an important figure on the drag scene. He is an ex-Brookes student who started doing Oxford uni events in 2016 working with various clubs in Oxford. “Pre-pandemic, I used to run a Drag Karaoke night at the nightclub Cirkus on Sundays [now closed].” Jake told me. “I started running Drag & Disorderly at Plush in Oxford with Drag Queen Felicity Suxwell, hosting table service after pandemic restrictions were [partially] lifted. We found there were a lot of students and locals wanting to start drag, but not knowing where to begin.” When asked about Oxford’s scene, Jake says “The biggest difference between drag in Oxford and elsewhere is inclusivity. This is shown in the attitude of each of the established performers by helping to introduce new performers into the world of drag. From what I’ve seen in other towns and cities, there is a more extreme scene where acts are fighting each other for gigs and stealing them from one another. Here in Oxford, especially with the Drag & Disorderly queens, there’s more support within the industry, making it more welcoming.”
I asked all the drag artists about their perception of the drag scene in general. Firstly to attain whether there was a divide between university and resident performers. Miss Take said “There has never been a divide between us, and I am proud to be a part of such an uplifting family of performers”. Adding that “A hierarchy exists only because some of us wear higher heels than others”.Bad B says “There is a real sense of sisterhood and I always felt respected, even when competing for the first time in drag.” Jake Hall says the supportive atmosphere of the Oxford scene “ has led to there being no division between the local and student acts. The only major difference between the two is availability as students have coursework as a priority and many of them go home over the breaks. Despite this, we have managed to even book them gigs when they return to their hometowns!” Shroom says “Regarding Town people its mostly just felicity really – she was doing drag before an Oxford drag scene – and I consider her a veteran even though she is 23 – literally our age – we all have a level of respect for her.”
I asked all the drag artists about the perception that Oxford’s drag scene has a smaller profile than other university cities.
Bad B said that “Compared to larger cities like London and Manchester the drag scene is smaller in Oxford but it is larger than other cities like my home town. The oxford drag scene is only getting bigger, especially thanks to the work done by Rusty Kate, Blues Events and the Drag and Disorderly brand. I think there’s a really exciting future for the oxford drag scene so watch this space.” She adds “it seems like a really organic scene which has developed with the expression of oxford’s gay population.” Miss Take imparts some wisdom with her response: “Drag takes time. Time to learn how to do your makeup, time to build a persona, and time to construct and perfect a show. Oxford holds two universities and many of the student population simply do not have the time to devote to drag. I am lucky to have the most incredible, supportive family at home, and I really honed my craft over lockdown… If you are thinking of getting in drag for the first time at university, it is more difficult to find the time to do so. But I encourage you to try! It’s fun. Who needs a degree when your visage is this snatched?” Danny Issues is positive “Oxford is a small city, and let’s be honest it’s not the number one destination for nightlife – so I’d say its drag scene is pretty impressive in the circumstances! There is some real talent based in Oxford – performers who travel across the country. Let’s give Oxford the credit it deserves!” Rusty tells me to “look at the state of the Oxford drag scene five years ago – where was it? There was next to nothing going on, and now there are so many different drag events all competing for attention in a tiny city.” Rusty understands the complexities of a student drag scene with limited term-time and that “All too often, being a student doesn’t provide the luxuries of time and money to get started. (Unless you fob off your degree and wear charity shop dresses like me).”
Following the Westgate protest I wondered if there were any ramifications on the scene in Oxford. “Not even remotely” said Donna. Jake Hall told me “a number of acts and I were in attendance [at Westgate] counter-protesting in support of the story time. This hasn’t necessarily negatively impacted what we do. If anything, we had more venues contact us in support and want to start working with our drag performers.” However, Miss Take says “These kinds of protests influence every drag artist’s work. It is easy to get comfortable performing in queer spaces and forget there is still a world out there which does not understand, accept or tolerate diversity.” Adding “It’s important for children to be informed about drag; expressing who you are, however, you are, is not something to be ashamed of. Drag is not to be hidden away, but instead made accessible and enjoyed as a diverse community. On that note, I am a teacher, and I will leave you with my most important lesson: love who you are, but love me more!” Danny Issues disclosed that “The only negative experience I’ve had is… confusion? I think particularly drag kings (rather than queens) have not been given much of a platform in the past – so people don’t always quite know how to react to Danny!” Rusty Kate is candid: ”Honestly, at the time we were terrified. We want to do what we do and feel safe but had a constant worry. I thought about toning down some of the things I do. I thought about how I justified the raunchier parts of the show. Then I thought, why on earth am I doing this? The political landscape in this country is down the shitter, granted. The last thing we should do is hide – we should be more visible than ever. Just not in daylight. Drag Queens don’t look good in daylight.”
The overarching theme of this article and throughout my encounters with Oxford’s drag artists is that this community is very special because of its supportive and kind members. As Shroom told me “The selling point of Oxford Drag is that it is so tightknit which allows for the family vibes.” It exists in an “In-between space” very different from. London drag where “weird acts are reserved for weird clubs.” In Oxford “I can go from fierce lipsync to then licking cream off myself”. Her description of the scene as a vibrant “Mixing pot” is spot on. As Miss Take said, “It is wonderful to meet other entertainers and learn from how they express themselves”. Bad B is grateful for the warm welcome commenting “I really owe my great experience so far to all of the drag artists who have shown me kindness.” Danny Issues says “I think with Oxford, the special breed of students we have here makes both audiences and performers understand each other a little more. And whilst Oxford is a small city, it also means the community is pretty tight-knit and safe!” He adds “Audiences in queer spaces have been nothing but lovely whilst I’m very much learning on the job!”
Drag performers rely on people “turning up to support their girlies” as Shroom put it. She encouraged the girls and the gays to turn out in force to support their shows, buy the performers drinks, and give a generous tip – a process which is sure to be fun based on Shroom’s description of it to me. According to Bad B “There are a bunch of exciting drag events coming up this term and in the future. If you want to find out more follow queens on Instagram when you watch our shows.” The Drag and Disorderly Facebook page has information about upcoming performances, the next being on 19th February at Plush. You can catch Jake Hall’s “fabulous drag performers” every Tuesday at the City Arms for a drag quiz. And keep a look out for any extra events – including the famed Drag Brunch – coming up in the future. Oxford Drag Collective at The Old Fire Station also run events. Haute Mess at The Bullingdon “holds stinky sweaty club nights throughout the year” (Donna’s words not mine). They tell me “The next one on 2nd March will be our annual competition, Oxford’s Next Top Mess, where we’ll be crown the city’s messiest newbie. You can find tickets on our instagram@hautemessparty ” Outside nightlife, Shroom is launching a podcast of 20-minute soundbites of chatting – found through her LinkTree. Judging by our conversation it will be a lot of fun. Rusty also has a radio show on Oxide Radio called ‘Wine Drunk’.
Many thanks to all the Drag performers for their time and comments. Shroom @shroomdraguk Bad B @_brodiebrain Danny Issues @itsdannyissues Rusty Kate @rustykatedrag Miss Take @misstakeofficial Salmonella @salmonella.zip Donna Marcus Duke @donna.the.first Scarlett Von Kok @scarlettvonkokofficial Londyn @theellondyn
Researchers from Oxford University have warned members of parliament that artificial intelligence (AI) could “kill everyone.” In an ordered inquiry by the Science and Technology Committee of the House of Commons, the Oxford researchers Michael Osborne and Michael Cohen, as well as Katherine Holden and Manish Patel from companies that deal with AI, spoke on its potential dangers and the import of its proper governance.
Osbourne has argued that over-reliance on AI is something that could carry humans into a new age of technological marvels and progress, leading to a phenomenon which he described as “bionic duckweed”. The professor noted that it leads to complacency, with people assuming the problems of the present will be solved in the all-too-murky future, and assuming a utopian version of AI that simply does not exist, as it is “meeting the goals we say, not the goals we want.”
Osborne was also quick to point out the various properties of AI that lend itself towards superhuman capabilities, namely in that of a capitalist economy that prioritises production. “AI can work 24/7, and it does not get distracted […] AI is scalable to a degree that humans are not.” The fundamental fear during the inquiry seemed to be what happens when an all-powerful artificial intelligence begins to decide for itself what it wants to do, calling forth images of Skynet from the Terminator series, or HAL 9000 from 2001: A Space Odyssey.
One member of parliament, Aaron Bell, voiced some skepticism at Osborne’s declaration of doomsday if AI was allowed to proliferate unchecked, asking “how realistic [did Osborne] think the bleak vision is?” Osborne replied decisively, comparing AI to nuclear weapons in power, and warning against potential arms races that could begin between countries trying to build the most AI, which Osborne noted was a “military technology” that could be used to control drones and kill combatants independently of any human intervention. “You do not just want to have a human dummy rubber-stamping decisions made by an AI…,” Osborne said.
But in voicing an actual timeline between the relatively faulty models of AI present today and the generative, transformative versions seemingly afforded by the future, both Cohen and Osborne were reluctant to give any firm timetables. Cohen related a story of Ernest Rutherford proclaiming that nuclear energy was impossible, only for it to be achieved less than 24 hours later. “It might look a lot like it does today months before [an AI paradigm shift]. Technological progress often comes in bursts.”
Entertaining Mr Sloane, a satire from 1964, pits a status-obsessed brother, Ed (Tomás Sergeant), against his lonely, housewife sister, Kath (Maisie Lambert), in their common pursuit of the smooth, muscular Sloane (Am Wyckoff), a young ruffian looking for a room. The entire play takes place in the house where Kath lives with her father, Kemp (Eric Balonwu), who is old, grumpy, and, eventually, murdered. Kath’s Freudian, mothering lust is pitted against Ed’s sleazy, predatory charm, but in the end they both come out on top (of Sloane).Yet what Orton said he ‘wanted to do in Sloane was to break down all the sexual compartments that people have’ and complained that “when Sloane had been running for a while, it had got into compartments, so that Madge (Ryan) was the nympho, Peter (Vaughan) was the queer and Dudley (Sutton) was the psycho.” Orton’s mastery is not to reduce these characters to various neuroses, but rather to offer moral emptiness and a biting indictment of respectability across the board. Brook’s production moved between playing the world for laughs and playing it real enough that the audience was left with lingering unease.
Maisie Lambert as Kath was superb, shifting between bullying daughter, smothering mother, and horny housewife by turn – though the bellowing offstage was ferocious in the round. Tomás Sergeant’s Ed had a repressed, careful sleaze which balanced perfectly with Lambert, but could occasionally have played up his breathless delight at Sloane’s weightlifting habits. Eric Balonwu’s Kemp was suitably the ‘straight man’; morally mediocre rather than excessively perverse and punished for it. Sloane’s character is a difficult one: Dudley Sutton, the first actor to take the role, described Sloane as a ‘lumpen’, a ‘nothing’ concerned only with serving himself. Am Wyckoff’s rendition was reptilian and threatening. The joy of Orton is to see the perverse presented as if it were the normal, like an epigram that sounds familiar but upturns and satirises common wisdom. As Orton said, there must be with ‘no attempt in fact to match the author’s extravagance of dialogue with extravagance of direction’. In Sloane’s climactic monologue, the directorial decision to have Sloane crouched and gesticulating wildly atop a chair went somewhat to extravagance. Still, it was exciting.
The first two acts were played back-to-back, marked in the script by a time jump from Sloane’s introduction to the household to ‘some months later’. Brook added a dumb show to cover the months between. Colourful lights lit the stage and loud music blared whilst the actors played a silent melodramatic charade: Sloane kicking Kemp’s chair, Ed coming to speak to Kemp, and Kath and Ed ducking behind Sloane’s back to kiss each other. These mimes felt like an incongruous addition to Orton’s heavily verbal play. The third act featured Orton’s slow reveal of the collusion of all the remaining characters following their base instincts of greed, lust, and self-preservation. It was wonderful. The play ended with Lambert and Sergeant negotiating their ‘partnership’ in a mockery and perversion of the various nuclear family roles. It was a masterful third act, and the audience looked impressed.
Orton is one of Britain’s finest playwrights. His work catches the audience unaware with syntax that sounds familiar and then punches them with revelations of greed, sleaze, and selfishness beneath the theatre of respectability. Modern critics have tried to interpret him as a forerunner of sexual liberation; I prefer to see him as satirising public performances of morality that is privately lacking. An Exciting New’s production staged him admirably, and it was a joy to see.
