Tuesday 5th August 2025
Blog Page 343

What’s the deal with Ballerine?

The Copper IUD, colloquially known as the coil, is one of the few non-hormonal contraceptive methods available outside of condoms, and can last for between 5 and 10 years before needing to be replaced. Most contraceptive methods are hormonal, and methods such as the combined pill have been linked to heightened blood clot risk and, in some cases, worsened mental health. Still, the IUD remains one of the least popular methods, with reporting by the BBC suggesting that in the US, 6.1% of women have an IUD, and in Australia and New Zealand the figure is even lower, at around 2%. 

The IUD is inserted into the womb, a process that has often been described as painful by the people that have undertaken the procedure, although some reporting suggests that the expectation of pain is greater than what people actually experience. Simone Fraser, a graduate from the University of Oxford, described the process as “painful!,” although she suggested that the experience was worth it overall, and a “positive choice” for her. Simone experienced what she described as “really intense period pain for a few seconds” during the procedure, and soreness for a few days after, and suggested that having the IUD has increased the period pain that she experiences overall.

Some people also experience issues with the IUD staying in, although research by the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists only estimates that this happens to 2 in 10 people. Elliott Rose, a current Oxford student, described the initial process of having the IUD put in as not especially painful, noting that it was “over fairly quickly” and that “the doctor who did the procedure was really good and respectful.” However, after a month he experienced a feeling that suggested that their IUD had started to fall out, and upon visiting his local clinic experienced what he described as “the worst medical transphobia” he’d ever experienced, and was shamed by clinicians for requesting that his IUD be removed. 

The IUB Ballerine, a new form of contraception, hopes to solve some of the problems that users have faced with the IUD. At around half the size of a traditional IUD device and with a spherical design rather than a traditional T-shape, it markets itself on being more well-suited to the womb. The IUB, like the IUD, uses copper to alter the cervical mucus, which makes it more difficult for a sperm to successfully reach an egg. Daniela Schardinger, a representative for the manufacturer of Ballerine, told Refinery29 that the device “was invented to be totally spherical so no matter which way it turns, it will always relate to the uterus in the same way,” a philosophy that they believe is “a better fit to what we know of the uterus today” and will help reduce the risk of perforation, which is where the IUB goes through the wall of the uterus

A study conducted of the real-world effectiveness of the Ballerine IUB found that the majority of participants experienced only ‘light’ period pain after going on the IUB, and that 81.4% of the participants would recommend the IUB as a form of contraception. Still, while the impact of period pain on participants appeared fairly low, one of the central reasons for early removal was heightened menstrual bleeding, with around 10-16% people requesting removal for this reason. A larger, collated study by the same researchers concluded that the “high user-reported tolerability, likely due to improved device conformity with uterine anatomy, will inevitably promote long-term user persistence, subsequently reducing unintended pregnancy rates.”

So how available is the Ballerine IUB in the UK? Well, right now you can only have the contraception inserted through private healthcare, a procedure that has little information about cost available publicly. The manufacturers of Ballerine, Ocon Medical, hope that the contraception could be available on the NHS by the end of 2021 – with the product already available over large parts of Europe, Scandinavia, and some parts of Africa, it doesn’t seem hard to believe that the IUB could be widespread soon. 

Artwork by Aleksandra Pluta.

University releases updated guidance for students in light of May 17th changes

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Oxford University has updated their arrangements for students after 17 May, following this week’s Government announcement.  Updated guidance for in-person teaching, returning to Oxford and student life were laid out in an email from Professor Martin Williams, Pro-Vice Chancellor. 

The university has stated that, as many courses have finished teaching for the academic year, “large group teaching and lectures are likely to remain online”, in line with social-distancing constraints. 

However, they have also stated that “where feasible, departments may be able to offer in-person teaching to students on courses which have now been permitted to restart. Colleges are also looking to make tutorials available in-person.”

“Your department and/or college will contact you to inform you if any of your teaching will take place in-person. If you do not hear from them, you should assume that it will remain online.”

In regards to examinations, they will “proceed in the format already communicated to you; with the majority taking place online. If your exam is taking place in-person, it will be listed on the examination timetables page of the Oxford Students website.”

The Pro-Vice Chancellor has said “all students are now permitted to return to Oxford. If you are offered [in]-person teaching, we strongly encourage you to take advantage of that opportunity.” 

Residency requirements remain suspended for Trinity term and guidance for international students has not changed. The Pro-Vice Chancellor has said to international students who “do not have a large amount of in-person teaching or assessment which requires you to be in Oxford, you may wish to take advantage of the residency exemption. If you are in a country that is on the UK Government’s ‘red list’, we advise you to take advantage of the residency exemption, unless you have substantial in-person teaching commitments.”

From Monday 17 May the rule of six will be in place for indoor spaces, whilst groups of up to 30 can meet outdoors. In light of the Government’s change to rules within indoor spaces, the university has said “there may be specific requirements around households in colleges, and your college will let you know if this is the case.”

The Pro-Vice Chancellor has said students “must continue to follow all health guidance to protect the community. While the outlook is more optimistic and restrictions are gradually easing, the pandemic is not yet over”. 

Students have been asked to “enjoy Oxford responsibly as the restrictions ease. In particular, with so many examinations taking place online, it is essential that everyone is considerate and respectful of students taking their exams in their rooms and other locations, by keeping noise to a minimum.” 

Students are expected to get tested before their return to Oxford, twice on arrival and bi-weekly following this. The university have alted their LFD testing scheme: “After 24 May, we plan to offer pre-packed LFD test kits that you will be able to pick up from your college and other locations. Alternatively, the symptom-free testing centres will also be available to you, as well as other Government routes.” 

Image: Tejvan Pettinger/CC BY 2.0

‘Blink’ and You’ll Miss It

Blink is a knot of a play. Filmed in black and white, and lasting nearly two hours, the production burrows deep into the complexities of grief, connection, and distance while still maintaining a sense of honesty throughout. 

The play tells the story of Sophie Kissack and Jonah Jenkins, who each live alone in flats in London. They share eerily similar pasts of isolation and loss, and when Sophie sends Jonah a baby monitor screen, they grow close in a strange, morally ambiguous way. While the story arc seems to follow two people falling in love, it’s never sugary or straightforward. Instead, as the script says, it highlights that ‘love is whatever you feel it to be’ – and sometimes it’s messy, dark, and uncomfortable. 

Speaking to the cast and creatives, I was struck by the amount of time and thought clearly put into the production. Describing themselves as a ‘closely-knit bubble’, the group had nuanced answers for every question I posed, never hesitant to examine their own dramatic choices. We began by facing the question posed to every piece of pandemic theatre: why now? With Blink, there were endless answers to choose from. Producer and co-director Louis Cunningham was quick to mention ‘solitude and connecting through screens’, which was also the first thought that came to me on the subject. The script has a remarkable amount of parallels with our emotional responses to the pandemic, and there’s a fun sense of the ‘meta’ that comes from watching a production about voyeurism and screens on a laptop . 

The cinematography of the production is so polished, especially considering this is a piece of student drama from a very small team: the group refer to Director of Photography Micheal-Akolade Ayodeji as some kind of magical figure, but his wizardry does come across in the show. Two sequences in particular stand out: an intimate scene in which the two characters ride the London Eye, and the dramatic, sensory climax of the first act. While every so often it felt to me that the cinematography was doing very slightly too much, it was hugely impressive throughout. 

While talking about the way the show has been shot in black and white, Louis and co-director Maggie Moriarty cite Malcolm and Marie, the film released earlier this year, as an influence. Maggie talks about how the black and white gives a ‘sense of timelessness’, which I definitely felt, while Louis explains that the other element they took from the film was ‘the nature of being unsure about it’. It’s this idea that makes Blink so fascinating: there’s always something that feels slightly off about the characters, and their actions are at times very morally grey. While in other productions this would feel like a flaw, it is Blink’s greatest strength: the production revels in uncertainty and ambiguity. 

Pip Lang and Gabe Winsor, as Sophie and Jonah respectively, give nuanced, intricate performances throughout. Gabe has a remarkable authenticity and naturalness, while Pip charts her character’s transitions from stillness to emotional outburst in a way that’s constantly captivating to watch; she’s clearly thought about every detail, from lip wobbles to hand gestures. Speaking to the actors, I learnt about the challenges of getting across such complicated characters on screen: Pip described forming an ‘intimacy with the camera’, while Gabe summarised the process as a ‘lovely kind of dance’. We also spoke about the multi-roling, one of the few aspects of the piece I wasn’t initially sold on: speaking to the team, however, it’s grown on me. It forces us to question how and why this narrative is being told, as the moments where the fourth wall is broken are always clearly deliberate. One of the most interesting parts of our conversation is a discussion about the way storytelling works in this play, with regard to how the characters exchange control of the narrative. 

This is the question lying at the heart of the script. Playwright Phil Porter asks theatremakers to consider ‘why these characters are telling this story out loud and to whom they are speaking’  – throughout the piece, the characters address the audience (or in this case, camera) directly, framing the story like an interview of some kind. While I was very interested to learn the team’s response to this question, I won’t share it here: the play is more fun to watch when the question of the mechanics is left unanswered, as the ambiguity of the role of the camera becomes a tool for audiences to interrogate the character dynamics.

Towards the beginning of our meeting, Louis described the production as ‘a kind of circus act between two people, of juggling all these emotions and arguments and sentiments’. It is this which best sums it up. While the aesthetic choices may be far removed from the idea of a circus, the play is defined by that same sense of quirkiness, instability and fascination. I’d watch Blink over a tightrope act any day. 

Blink will be online at 7:30pm on the 14th and 15th May 2021. 

Get your tickets here:  https://www.ticketsource.co.uk/frangipane/e-zjoplj

Image Credit: Micheal- Akolade Ayodeji

Who are we really trashing?

In light of Oxford Climate Justice’s campaign report, which found that between 2015 and 2020, Oxford accepted at least £8.2 million in research grants from fossil fuel companies, advocating for divestment from fossil fuels is at the forefront of climate activism in Oxford. However, while this movement pushes for the University itself to move away from its past onto a sustainable, greener future, the continuation of trashing by Oxford’s own students students hinders progress.

Trashing is an annual tradition that sees students spray each other with alcohol, flour and confetti – a practice that began in the 1970s when friends of students taking their finals waited outside the Examination School in Oxford city centre. However, due to its conspicuously decadent nature, trashing has become a source of controversy in recent years. In 2018 university authorities launched an offensive against the practice with its ‘what a waste’ campaign and announced that trashing could lead to disciplinary action and a £300 fine.

For the University, trashing is an image problem, especially in greater discussions of student privilege and entitlement, as well a financial and environmental problem. The city of Oxford has problems with homelessness and food insecurity, and the mountain of wasted food as a result of trashing can be considered offensive. As a result, while steeped in university history, head authorities have discouraged the practice of trashing, marking it wasteful and disruptive to the local Oxford community.

Moreover, on their website page the University further details detrimental effects of trashing, including the waste of food that could be donated and wasted expense, disruption to those still studying or in exams, and students and residents being admitted to hospital due to slipping on trashing materials. Importantly, from an environmental perspective, using non-biodegradable goods is harmful to animal life, and paint also damages the environment.

Plastic pollution has a direct and deadly effect on wildlife. Containing toxic chemicals, this can increase the chance of disease and affect reproduction. After ingesting microplastics animals can suffer for months or even years before they die. The most important environmental impact from paints is the release of volatile organic compounds (VOCs) during the drying process after the coating is applied. Once in the atmosphere, VOCs participate in the formation of ozone, and dissolved in water or other solvents directly damages aquatic ecosystems and leads to terrestrial degradation. While trashing is a day’s worth of fun, its environmental impact can be far-reaching, and irreversible.

Companies such as EcoTrash, which was formed in 2019, offer a wide range of products including biodegradable confetti, coloured powder and eco-glitter, and have made progress from the plastic trails and waste left after exam season, but what about the wasted food and drink marking the streets of Oxford and having a direct impact on local flora and fauna?

In tradition, many students jump into the river at Christ Church meadow, disrupting the community of local wildlife but also producing a massive amount of litter on the river banks and polluting its waters with shaving cream or worse. A build-up of shaving cream or other artificial products in water bodies creates a layer of by-products on the surface. This can cause algae to grow quickly. These ‘blooms’ of algae may produce toxins that harm other life in the river. When the algae die and decay, this uses up much of the oxygen in the stream. Without enough oxygen in the water, its inhabitants will suffocate. As a result, EcoTrashing could provide a solution to this waste but only to an extent. In their first year in Trinity 2019, Oxford students from 28 colleges, bought over 500 bags of biodegradable confetti, over 440 bags of coloured powder made from 99% cornstarch and over 260 white sashes, all in composite delivery bags. However, EcoTrash sells shaving foam, a crucial trashing ingredient and plastic features in some of its packaging. It therefore does not address the issue of food packaging, drinks, cans and more being scattered across Oxford. 

With Post-exam trashings costing the University £25,000 a year, as Cherwell revealed, security staff were also paid £20,000 in overtime in 2017 to control celebrations, while a further £1,881 was spent on hiring barriers to manage pedestrian flow. A further £3,500 was reimbursed to Oxford City Council, who clean Merton Street following trashings. This presents the elite nature of Oxford and the high cost of its student body’s privilege; financially, environmentally and socially. Student campaigners including Oxford SU, Oxford Climate Society, Oxford Climate Justice Campaign, and Oxford Nature Conservation Society joined forces to welcome the University of Oxford’s new ambitious Environmental Sustainability Strategy. This will establish a new Oxford Sustainability Fund which will make £200 million available for sustainability initiatives over the next fifteen years.

Should there not therefore be a focus on sustainability when looking to ensure climate mitigation and adaptation? With the University pushing once again for change, stopping such decadent and wasteful celebrations should therefore be the next step. 

Image credit: Sheng P / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Union Beer Garden to close at the end of this week

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The Oxford Union’s popular beer garden will be open for the last time this Saturday, Cherwell can reveal. The garden was opened at the start of Week 0, and hosted a range of events, including a jazz night, poetry night, and Thursday night £2.50 cocktails. The Beer Garden will be replaced with the reopening of the bar under stage 3 of the Government’s planned easing of COVID-19 restrictions.

A spokesperson for the Oxford Union told Cherwell: “’We can confirm that the Beer Garden will remain open until Saturday of 3rd week, after which point we’re delighted Government regulations will allow the Union’s indoor bar to reopen.” 

“We shall also be opening the Goodman Library as an extension of the bar, allowing for significantly greater capacity then in pre-covid times, and not much reduction in capacity from the Beer Garden. The bar shall still provide excellent service, including a wide drinks menu and a full, homemade, lunch menu served daily 1130-1430. In addition, we’re excited that further easing will allow for a return of in person events – starting with Dick and Dom on Monday!’”

Image Credit: The Oxford Union

In Conversation With Mae Martin

There’s something slightly surreal about emailing someone whose comedy routines regularly pop up on your Facebook feed, whose new hit comedy ‘Feel Good’ got you through the first national lockdown and whose tour for this October (‘Sap’) sold out as you were trying to grab tickets. Frankly, it’s quite intimidating.

I am of course talking about Mae Martin, comedian, writer, and actor. Simply put, they are very cool. Currently in editing for the second series of Feel Good, named one of the best TV shows of 2020 by the Guardian, it’s clearly been a busy year for Mae, and I had loads of questions – about the show, her career and how their thoughts on gender and sexuality in the 21st century impact their work. Here’s what she had to say over email…

IM: So, the first series of Feel Good came out in March of 2020 – right at the start of the first UK lockdown. How has working on the second series been over the last year and what are your thoughts on “pandemic productivity”?

MM: I’ve been so lucky to be able to make series 2 of the show this year, and I’m beyond grateful that I had a reason to get out of my apartment, be around people and be distracted from the hell of the news. Filming in a pandemic presented its own unique problems and it was touch and go sometimes, but we managed to pull it off! However – anyone who pressures anyone about “pandemic productivity” needs to be thrown in the ocean. Just surviving the anxiety of this year is a feat in itself and we all need to take pressure off ourselves. 

IM: Talking about Feel Good, I can’t help but root for Mae and George (hopeless romantic that I am) – but should I be?

MM: I’m glad you’re mulling over one of the central questions of the show! I don’t think there’s a right answer. Mae and George of season 1 definitely sometimes brought out the worst in each other, although they were madly in love, and for them to transform that toxicity into a lasting long term relationship they’re going to have to grow and change, which they struggle to do in season two. We like the ambiguity of whether we should be rooting for them or not, because I think a lot of people can relate to a relationship like that, but ultimately of COURSE we root for them and hope other people do too. We’re hopeless romantics as well.

IM: Your exploration of friendship in the series is often just as thought provoking as your focus on romantic love. What were you trying to say with the often less than ideal friendships in Feel Good?

MM: Thank you! I consider my friends some of the great loves of my life, and value them so much. Mae and Maggie in season 1 were two sides of the same fairly manic coin with no impulse control. I’m really interested in what we “should do” with the people in our lives who aren’t necessarily “good” for us but who we love deeply, and we get into that more in season 2. I also love that Mae has a strong group of straight male friends at the comedy club, because that’s reflective of my life and some of my most precious relationships, including with my co-writer Joe.

IM: The disappointment and sense of betrayal in Feel Good when Mae’s male friend hits on her is really poignant. Why did you choose to include this moment in the series?

MM: I’d say Arnie’s more of an idol in a position of power than a real friend, but I felt it was important to honestly depict the threat of sexual assault/coercion which exists in, let’s face it, many work environments but particularly the comedy world. I hope we did it in a nuanced way. These issues get so politicised and hotly debated, and I think it’s always helpful to show them and explore them in a human way so we remember what it is that we’re actually talking about, maybe.

IM: You mention in your book (Can Everyone Please Calm Down? A Guide to 21st Century Sexuality) the ‘birds and the bees’ talk your mum gave you, which covered all bases, and Feel Good is brilliant at frankly depicting queer sex. How important is well-rounded LGBTQ+ education and representation to you?

MM: Both things are very important, for sure. Some of the most meaningful feedback I’ve had about Feel Good has been “I feel like I saw myself reflected on screen for the first time”, and that means a lot, and I relate because I think I felt that dearth of representation myself. The problem is, when there are so few queer shows, there can sometimes be pressure to represent EVERYONE in the queer community or not to show flawed queer relationships, for it to be aspirational instead. But it’s important, I think, that queer characters are allowed to be flawed and selfish and three dimensional sometimes just like straight characters. 

IM: Why do you think embracing sexual fluidity and rejecting labels like gay, straight and bi is so important?

MM: I don’t think labels are bad, I recognise that the language around sexuality can make it much easier to communicate about these things, and to fight for our rights which are still tenuous. But I do think that labels can bulldoze over the nuances of being a human, and I reject any labels that are projected onto me by others to help them to categorise me in some way… My experience of my own sexuality has been dynamic and evolving and I definitely fantasise about a world in which nobody has to “come out” and we focus more on who we are, rather than what label we are.

IM: So, do you see your writing and comedy as political and do you write with a political message in mind, or is it more of a side-effect of the kind of topics you raise?

MM: It’s an interesting question! I think I write personal stuff, and it just so happens that the topics that rattle my brain and life around – gender, addiction, that kind of thing – are at the forefront of conversations in the media at the moment.  So it feels political. But it’s absolutely never a case of “let’s write something topical and political”. Joe and I just tried to craft honest and complicated characters that drew from our own experiences. 

IM: Your work has a real truthfulness to it – is it cathartic to pursue such honesty? How important is honesty to your work?

MM: I think people can tell when stories aren’t authentic or authored, and I think there’s a real appetite for that kind of truthfulness at the moment. Also I’m not imaginative enough at the moment to write a supernatural crime caper or something so I’m absolutely still mining my own experiences. I do find it cathartic in some ways, feeling like the things that swirl around in my head have been witnessed and understood. That’s amazing. But I am excited to write something slightly less personal next time!

IM: I’m dying to watch the second series of Feel Good and I know you’re in editing right now, is there anything at all you can tell us about what we’ve got to look forward to?

MM: I am so excited for people to see it. I don’t want to give any spoilers but I think it’s bigger and more expansive, deeper and more personal, and hopefully really funny. And mega romantic because I’m a nerd like that.

IM: And finally, what’s a question you wish you were asked more?

MM: I’d like to be asked “can you name all the countries of the world” because during the pandemic my writing partner Joe and I memorised all 197 countries of the world, just as a hobby to keep our brains active, and I’m worried I’ll never be called upon to test that knowledge.

I’m so grateful to Mae for taking the time out of their busy schedule to answer all of my questions and I’m left, like I’m sure many of you are, counting down the days until Feel Good 2 and scouring the internet for a ticket to Mae’s next show!

The #OwnVoices Movement: Whose Voices Are Being Heard?

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From abandoning the acronym BAME to placing diversity and inclusion at the forefront of their values, representation has never been so important in the creative industries. It’s about time too, particularly in the publishing world. In the UK, this industry has been notoriously slow to be more representative of its population. The Publishers’ Association admitted that ‘there has been little progress in its […] target of increasing the ethnic diversity of employees’ earlier this year.

This lack of representation in turn affects the books that are commissioned and opinions about the authors who are writing them. For example, publishers have expressed alarming concerns about the ‘lack of ‘quality’’ of books by people of colour. After witnessing the success of works such as Sathnam Sanghera’s Empire Land and Bolu Babalola’s Love in Colour in recent months, it is evident that this is simply not the case.

With the #OwnVoices movement, it seems as though things might finally be changing. Originating on Twitter in 2015, this hashtag refers to a campaign championing the right for authors to tell their own stories in connection to their diverse identities. The author shares diverse or marginalised attributes with their main character, such as race, gender, sexuality, or disability, which reinforces the authenticity of their writing.

The campaign’s potential is evident when observing previous grievances in the commissioning landscape. For instance, the novelist Vikram Seth had to defend the choice of Andrew Davies, a white writer, adapting his novel A Suitable Boy for television last year. Writers such as Nikesh Shukla criticised this choice, stating that ‘so many brown writers are struggling to find work’ before questioning how many ‘opportunities there are for brown screenwriters’. While this issue moves beyond the world of publishing exclusively, it demonstrates the importance ofwriters  representing their own stories as well as their lack of ability to do so.

The movement has additionally had notable success in practice. Corinne Duyvis, who first coined the hashtag #OwnVoices, published her third novel, The Art of Saving the World, last year after the success of her debut, Otherbound, in 2014 when ‘queer YA books were still rare’. In her latest book, her protagonist Hazel is depicted as struggling with anxiety, something she has also personally experienced. The publication and positive reception of Duyvis’s work demonstrates what this movement can achieve. 

However, this hashtag is not without its obstacles. It has often come under criticism for publishers’ decisions on what authors can represent which communities. As a result, writers from diverse backgrounds can be denied opportunities on the notion of not being representative enough. This was the case with the author Tallie Rose, whose manuscript featuring a gay protagonist was recently rejected by Hurn Publications. The publishers believed that Rose did not come from the LGBTQ+ community and misrepresented the community in her work, despite her bisexual identity.

Writers are also increasingly frustrated by expectations to write only about certain communities or subjects. Historical fiction writer Cath outlines how her existence ‘and the existence of our BIPOC characters, are treated as inherently political’. She goes on to point out the ‘shades of either joy or trauma’ that are expected within her characters that consequently transform them into ‘educational tools’ or ‘trauma porn’. Not only do underrepresented authors face obstacles on entering the publishing industry, the material they produce  is under further limitations too.

When observing both sides of the #OwnVoices campaign, it is perhaps useful to turn to a collection that I believe transcends its limitations. Claudia Rankine’s Citizen: An American Lyric has been a powerful literary force in the last seven years since its original publication. Rankine’s collection provides important insight into the psychological trauma stemming from microaggressions, racial profiling and police brutality. As a black woman, Rankine’s voice is imperative in depicting these urgent issues in America.

However, the lack of identifiers in her collection universalises her poetry beyond the Black community in America. Her short, fragmented scenes feature narrators whose race and gender is often undisclosed: ‘You are in the dark, in the car, watching the black-tarred street being swallowed by speed; he tells you his dean is making him hire a person of color when there are so many great writers out there’. The respective races of the passenger and driver are easy to guess based on this brief snapshot of a scene. The passenger’s bigotry further reveals the professional boundaries often experienced by Black people in America as they are continuously excluded from traditionally white spaces.

Yet the unidentified race of the driver also ensures that any person of colour can connect to this scene. When asked about the most unexpected reaction to her book, Rankine reveals that ‘the most surprising thing has been the number of Asian women who have come up to me at book signings with tears in their eyes to say: this is my life you’re writing’. The authenticity of Citizen speaks more broadly to the experiences of people of colour as a whole. This is not to suggest that all experiences are the same, rather Rankine’s writing reveals the power of mutual grief and solidarity. 

It is therefore important that authors themselves get to choose who or what they want to write about. This choice is the key behind impactful writing. Underrepresented writers must be recognised as being able to push literature to new and exciting limits, like Rankine. While the #OwnVoices movement clearly has huge potential, there needs to be more emphasis on the word “own”. Authors need to be trusted to own their stories, whether they are a reflection of their own communities, or an exploration of something new. 

Image Credit: Daniel Thomas via Unsplash, CC0

Review: “Orestes”//Oxford Greek Play @ the Oxford Playhouse

On Wednesday the 28th of April, a live performance of the Greek tragedy Orestes took place at the Oxford Playhouse. This virtual, interactive and experimental production included creative new translations and discussions from leading academics rendering it unique. The online streaming of the little-known ancient Greek tragedy with a modern spin was exceptional. The play explores the ripples of trauma that follows crises of crime and punishment, and the difference between retributive and restorative justice. The setting of the play took place in the rooms of the respective actors, all of whom students at Oxford. The choice to perform in their rooms was significant. Performing in one’s room means performing in a very personal place and suggests very personal space; seclusion, protection. The rooms of the actors were bare but for a few pieces of furniture- instead focus could be directed towards the unveiling of the dynamic and the unfolding ideas of Euripides.  

What makes this ancient myth significant to the present day and worthy of watching is this transition from the archaic to the modern.

It should be noted that the Orestes of Euripides marked the change which had taken place in the thought and intellectual life of Athens since the Oresteia of Aeschylus was performed. The blood-stained story of the house of Atreus and the tale of Orestes echoes the history of the modern Greek state. The tragic myth spans a period from the fall of Troy to the foundation of Areopagus. Oxford Playhouse’s Orestes certainly employs most features of the legend of Euripides’s Orestes yet places emphasis on the studies of contemporary life, subject to the social and political conditions of the twenty-first century.

In Oxford Playhouse’s version we see Orestes killing Clytemnestra, his mother in a brutal act of revenge and forming a same-sex relationship with Pylades. A sexual relationship between two men would violate social norms. We see his particular experiences as a queer male, questioning notions of personal and collective identities. Concentrating on this dramatic twist, this sensitive portrait of a condition and a relationship has the tug of emotional truth. As society collapses, can Orestes and Electra trust the whispers of Helen, Menelaus and the gods?. Even though heroes were not perfect they had within them inherent faults, they still had a certain grandeur about them, however they are now brought low with a vengeance.

The Oxford Playhouse’s Orestes belongs to the tradition of postmodern theatre which plays a significant role in diagnosing the contemporary condition of man through classical texts. What makes this ancient myth significant to the present day and worthy of watching is this transition from the archaic to the modern. This relation between tradition and contemporaneity of postmodern aesthetics is critical in understanding why watching a play of the 6th century BC is still relevant in the 21st century. By deconstructing Euripides’ classical text we invest in the future of an ancient tradition, addressing important contemporary matters instead of reproducing finished clichés. The edge-of-the-seat effect was what made the performance worth watching, with its blend of revelation and withholding. The intense and nuanced performances, the queasy mix of fear and fury palpable with a small glimmer of hope, made Oxford’s Orestes a very capturing play.

Image Credit: Egisto Sani via Flickr/ License: CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

Bookshops are Back: The Joys of In-Person Book Buying

It’s that time again folks! Retail has been released from its hiatus and, more importantly, bookshops are back open. Since the easing of the latest lockdown, book sales have risen massively. The hustle and bustle of shoppers has returned to Waterstones and Blackwells, and many independent bookstores are now breathing a sigh of relief. Personally, I’m overjoyed that I am once again allowed to contribute to these businesses, mostly because it means I am encouraged not to buy from the mega-company that is Amazon. I feel much more environmentally friendly buying ‘Oxford World Classics’ from Oxford; it just makes more sense!

However, my love for bookshops extends past just my hatred of Amazon. In my opinion, they are extremely important spaces. There’s something magical about running your fingers across a shelf, gazing over each stack and meandering through a cavern full of works of literature. When it comes to picking a book to read, it’s such a huge help if you can hold the physical thing in your hand. I often feel like I need to read the blurb, piece through the pages and appreciate the cover before I decide which edition of a text to buy, or, as an English student, whether to study that book at all. I often find little moments of magic when I am searching for books on my reading list, slowly gazing down the names only to find that the book I need has an even more interesting book next to it. It feels like having so many books in one place encourages you to make more spontaneous discoveries and develop your knowledge more naturally.

I also find it very helpful to be able to sit in one place and read bits of a book without buying it. When I was younger, my mum couldn’t really keep up financially with my intense reading habit. To remedy this, I used to sit in Waterstones on a selection of beanbags and frantically read the newest Jacqueline Wilson novel in under an hour. 8-year-old me thought that that was the very definition of fun. Since then, I have discovered the joys of café bookshops and have spent many hours perusing newly released fiction over a steamy cup of tea. 

I can vividly remember spending my sixth form years tottering down from my college after 3:30 into the city centre. I would spend every afternoon sprawled across a table in Leeds Waterstones Café annotating poems, picking up new books to read and filling out loyalty card after loyalty card in buying white mochas and fruit toast with marmalade. It was my haven, my special place where time stood still. I’m not ashamed to say that I made very good friends with pretty much all of the baristas. However, despite what you may think, I did also have my own ‘bookshop’ crowd; a group of my indie vintage-camera-critique-coffee-buy-ukulele friends. Bookshop cafés were a place where us weirdos could go to meet other weirdos, a place where we all could fit in. 

One particular memory that resonates with me is a barista peering over my shoulder as I painstakingly highlighted my A-Level poetry anthology with unnecessary precision. As he cleared away cups and plates, he complimented my annotations and told me how he believed annotations and scribbles make books more beautiful. I had never thought of it that way, but once I had, it changed my entire view of the reading process. Books are objects to be experienced, so why shouldn’t we change them? Different readings became just as important to me as the physical text itself. Bookshops became epicentres of knowledge that I could leave my own stamp on. (Disclaimer: I always bought the books before I scribbled in them, please do the same!)

Despite this, there is one place I love even more than the bookshop: Public Libraries. Need I say more? While bookshops are quiet places in which you can spend many hours, libraries are the only city centre places you can sit in without the expectation of spending money. I view this as essential to communities and to children. Everyone can benefit from a free inside space, especially one which is created for the experiencing of literature and the learning of knowledge. It’s a travesty that austerity has meant the government has closed down over half of public libraries, an action that will likely impact the education of the next generation and the opportunities available for current OAPs. 

I have fond memories of completing the UK public libraries ‘summer reading challenge’ as a child, a challenge which likely led me here to Oxford to study English as an undergraduate. Whenever I walk past my local library now, I feel a pang of sadness. What was once a calming, friendly place is now a ‘community centre’ where the local council conducts meetings with people on probation, unemployed people and people with housing issues. While this community centre is obviously essential, council cuts have led it to move from the town hall into the library, taking up over half the space and pretty much eradicating the children’s area.  

Now bookshops are back, I demand free public libraries for all. Everyone should be able to experience books, regardless of cost.

(Bonus: Picture of me aged 18 at Waterstones café)

Image Credit: Elena Trowsdale and Pixabay.

Judging books by their covers?

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Think of your favourite book cover. It might be one that is sentimental to you – perhaps it was the first novel you read whilst growing up, perhaps it reminds you of your childhood, perhaps it belongs to a famous author or a timeless classic. Now think, what is it about that cover that draws you to the story? It could be the bold, brazen image of a dinosaur skeleton slapped onto the cover of Jurassic Park, the playing cards whirling around Alice’s head in the Penguin Classics edition of Alice in Wonderland, or the teary-eyed stare of Francis Cugat’s epochal illustration for The Great Gatsby (which he was paid a mere $100 to design back in 1925).

I can confirm I have read none of these in full – I know, I have a lot of classic novels to catch up on – but from their covers I feel as if I have in many ways experienced them already. After all, many stories can already be summarised by the imagery which later comes to define them. What is the essence of Franz Kafka’s Metamorphosis if not the feelings captured by its original jacket – horror, mystery and intrigue. A man covers his eyes in fear, whilst behind him is an open door to a room in which darkness conceals an ambiguous creature within. This open door invites us into the world of the novella without explicitly showing us what is inside. As with much of literature, it is upon this first glance at the cover that the story begins. But what is it that makes a book cover so memorable? Is it the colour scheme, the graphics, the font? Furthermore, why have some of them stood the test of time whereas others have been reimagined or redesigned, or simply faded into obscurity?

Despite the popular saying, I am sorry to say that I often judge books by their covers. When browsing the shelves of a bookshop, what I am most drawn to is art. I hunt for the brightest colour, the most striking typography, a good-looking image with which to decorate my bedside table. On Instagram, a quick search for the hashtag #bookstagram confirms that I am not the only one. From the 57.8M posts under this category, all but a few of them are concerned with achieving a certain aesthetic, displaying books against a backdrop of flowers, fairy-lights, library shelves, coffee cups, houseplants. It is clear that literature is not only meant to be thought-provoking and interesting, it is meant to be visually exciting too. Book covers can use their beauty to their advantage, or even as a form of rebellion.

As the recent surge in popularity of e-readers has threatened to replace hard-copy books, designers have fought back, with even flashier fonts, fluorescent colours, even interactive designs. In brief, anything short of bland. Take Chip Kidd’s design for IQ84, Haruki Murakami’s multi-layered novel in which a Japanese woman one day enters a parallel universe. This features a semi-translucent jacket which provides a contrasting overlay to the image on the book’s cover, allowing two parallel worlds, and two parallel designs, to exist side-by-side.

The cover of a novel is not only a space onto which to project the core idea of what is inside, but it is also a space to explore and interact with art. In the 1960s, Penguin Publishing’s art director, Germano Facetti, began pairing science fiction novels with the works of various modern artists, allowing book covers to become the canvases for Dadaism, Cubism and Op art. The result of this are the haunting, often overly surreal images we encounter of the covers of novels such as J.G Ballard’s The Four-Dimensional Nightmare and George Orwell’s 1984. Another trend which emerged during the later half of the twentieth century was publishers using the works of old masters to illustrate their book covers; unlike the works of modern artists, these paintings belonged to the public domain and were therefore practically free to use. Now, even the most humble paperback has been transformed, and any member of the public could buy their own copy of an artwork which would otherwise only be available to view in avant-garde galleries or art museums.

The dawn of the twenty-first century brought with it a new artistic style and a new approach to designing book covers. Classics from the sixties and seventies were re-marketed to the public after having been given shiny new minimalist makeovers by their respective publishing houses. An example is Anthony Burgess’s A Clockwork Orange, whose iconic, brightly coloured cover featuring the ‘cog-eyed droog’ had become hard-wired into pop culture since its release in 1972. In 2005 it was given a total revamp by photographer Véronique Rolland to feature only a glass of milk against a white background. The latest edition, revealed in 2021, takes it one step further on the path to minimalism as well as abstraction – it features the words ‘a clockwork’ followed underneath by a radically simple orange circle. The cover is therefore almost useless in terms of artistic value – it says nothing more than simply ‘this is a Clockwork Orange’.

 This journey towards minimalism strikes me as, in many senses, unnerving. With many publishers choosing stock images or text over an artistic commission, could the era of art-gallery worthy book covers be coming to an end? Will Kindles, iPads and other e-readers eventually usurp hard copy books, no longer necessitating an enticing cover that jumps out at browsers in a bookstore?  Or could it be that the book cover is a dying species, destined to become more and more minimalist until everything is as austere and weird as that cover of A Clockwork Orange?

 Whilst e-reading is useful it certainly holds nothing against the beauty and tangibility of a paperback or a hardback book, especially when many e-readers are not built with colour displays. After all, when you think back to your favourite book cover, it’s most likely not even the cover that you like the most at all. Because let’s face it, nobody really remembers the cover of Frankenstein, or The Kite Runner, or the Twilight series (OK I lied, I do remember that one). There have been too many iterations and redesigns to count, and many books were first published without elaborate cover art. What we normally remember about our favourite book cover is the story it represents, and the attachment we have to that story. Of course, we can try to aestheticise books, to pair them with art or make them the star of a social media post. But the truth remains that our parents, teachers and the motivational quotes on Facebook were right. It’s what’s on the inside that counts.

Image Credit: Flickr (Licence: CC-BY-2.0).