Saturday 26th July 2025
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Poets raise concerns over new Professor of Poetry age limit

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Several poets have spoken out against new rules on age introduced for this year’s Oxford Professor of Poetry candidates. Poets cannot stand if they are over 69 years old, which has ruled out poet Michael Horovitz from running for the position.

The Professorship is one of the most prestigious positions for poets, and has previously been held by poets such as Seamus Heaney and Matthew Arnold. The main role of the Professor is to give a termly public lecture. A new professor is selected every four years. The University announced it was opening nominations for the position last month.

Horovitz, who stood for election in 2010 and had been intending to run again, first raised the issue of the new age limit on Twitter.

Several other poets soon came to his support, pointing out that it can take longer for some poets to get their careers off the ground. Sasha Dugdale commented: “This is discrimination – age caps for this type of honorary position work against women and BAME candidates who have to work much harder for longer to establish themselves as serious contenders.”

The age limit was imposed to bring the position into line with other University academic positions’ retirement policies. Under Council Regulations 3, an academic and academic-related employee should be retired by the Employer Justified Retirement Age (EJRA), meaning that under normal circumstances all staff should retire by the 30th September preceding their 69th birthday.

According to the University’s website, the EJRA is intended “primarily to enable refreshment, inter-generational fairness and improvements in diversity.”

However, some of those opposed to the move have suggested the Professorship should not Poets raise concerns over new Professor of Poetry age limit be treated in the same category as full-time teaching work.

Patience Agbabi, a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature who studied at Oxford, said: “They’ve made the mistake of assuming the post is comparable to a full-time teaching position. It’s exactly the kind of role that should be open to ALL poets.”

The position has previously been held by poets in their seventies. Christopher Ricks, who was Professor of Poetry between 2004 and 2009, was 70 when he was elected, while Geoffrey Hicks took on the position aged 78.

In a letter to the Guardian, Horovitz called on the University to change the policy. He said: “Applying conventional retirement rules to a four- to five-year job feels like a retrograde step on the part of Oxford. such discrimination is particularly inimical to the roles poetry and poets play in society.

“To rule out the potential contributions of numerous older poets who may want to apply in years to come, at a point in life when they will be likely to have achieved a considerable knowledge of poetic arts and crafts, seems not just unfair, but wilfully to defy administrative logic.

“I beseech my Oxford alma mater to rethink this blind, blanket application of routinely youthist policy, which will limit the dissemination of thought and learning from the very people who have devoted long careers to poetry, for what appears to be no good reason whatever.”

Nominations for candidacy closed on Thursday afternoon, with the final list of confirmed candidates including Alice Oswald and Andrew Macmillan.

Candidate’s statements will be published on 23rd May, and voting will be open from this date until 20th June. The results of the election will be declared at a meeting of Convocation on 21st June.

Language Centre Library closure woes continue

As the petition to save the Language Centre library from closure approaches 2,000 signatures, information obtained exclusively by Cherwell reveals how the closure was set in motion.

A consultation on the library’s future began in February this year, but by this point new restrictions were already being placed on spending. The librarian, Lucile Deslignères, was ordered not to make any purchases without her line manager’s approval.

In December 2018, all but one of the library’s computers were removed and the number of private study spaces was reduced to three. A month later, on 16th of January, the library’s award-winning social media accounts, with thousands of followers in total, were either shut down or taken over by management.

The first indications of an official process emerged on 11th of February, when library staff (one of whom had only begun her job a month earlier) were made aware of potential redundancies. They were soon after given a three-month period to accept voluntary severance, which originally ended on 17th of May, two weeks before the library consultation itself ended.

Following this, it was reported to Cherwell that Ms. Deslignères and her colleagues were relieved of many duties, despite assurances throughout the consultation process that no final decision had been taken. Although the consultation had begun by mid-February, information allegedly remained restricted to a small group of Language Centre and Administration Division staff.

When Ms. Deslignères spoke to her Bodleian colleague, responsible for re-homing the library’s 14,000-item collection, she reported that “no one had heard anything”.

In response to the apparent lack of external input into the consultation, on February 27th a petition was published by Ms. Deslignères calling for the library to remain open.

Shortly after, a brief note was published on the Language Centre website, summarising the situation and inviting comments. This was also sent out in an email to Language Centre “learners” (i.e. those enrolled on language courses), although registered library users were not officially notified until May 8th – only 3 weeks before the consultation’s end date.

When feedback was first welcomed Svenja Kunze, of Oxford’s University and College Union branch, told Cherwell that the move was possibly made “in the hope [that the consultation] will be forgotten by the start of Trinity”.

Outrage from library staff has persisted, with a letter to the Editor of the Oxford Magazine from a Duty Officer of the Bodleian and Editor of the Journal of the Printing Historical Society, Paul Nash, condemning the “managerial weasel-wordage” surrounding the consultation: “The need to increase efficiency’ really means ‘the desire to save money’.

“Where once responsible managers saw the intellectual and educational value of the stock and resources they managed, and of their front-line staff, now they see only a financial burden. Many of the current generation of library managers are not custodians of wisdom but mere bean-counters.”

Initial criticism of the library proposals was largely based on their substance, with plans for closure described by Taylor Institution Subject Consultant Nick Hearn as threatening “to destroy a collection of national importance”.

Criticism is increasingly focusing, however, on the manner in which the consultation is being carried out, with the UCU stating that this raises “many questions” with “not enough answers”.

When contacted for comment, the AAD office contested claims made by staff, telling Cherwell: “We are currently consulting on proposed changes to the Language Centre library, in the light of low and declining usage, the increasing availability of online learning materials, and the need to increase efficiency to meet budget targets set for university services.

“No decision has yet been taken about proposals. A paper will be considered by the General Purposes Committee of Council on 1st July. This committee will then make a recommendation to Council on 15th July 2019.

“The consultation with affected staff is being carried out according to University policies. In line with agreed procedures, those affected were given advance notice that their posts may be at risk of redundancy at the start of the consultation process. This advance notice period will last until Council has reviewed the recommendations.”

“There has been no reduction in the library budget, or access to library facilities or resources. We are maintaining the budget and access to the library at previous levels until a decision on the proposals is made by Council.

“Further information, including the consultation paper and online survey, as well as information about an Open Forum event that took place on 7th May, can be found on the Language Centre website.”

Hungary’s Holocaust distortion

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There’s a stillness in the air around the site of the House of Fates, the new Holocaust museum in the run-down suburb of Józsefváros, just outside central Budapest. Temporary metal fences guard stairs around the perimeter, and armed police officers remove anyone who stands too close. Originally scheduled to open in 2014, it remains largely an empty shell, with furniture on the inside still wrapped in protective packaging. The building nevertheless makes itself seen, with a knowing lack of subtlety: the giant, elevated Star of David, which is supposed to be illuminated at night, sits between two rusty, metal buildings that resemble cattle cars.

On the part of historians, Holocaust educators, and Jewish groups, there exists wellfounded fear about the new museum, namely, that it will continue along the lines of a familiar narrative that begins with a museum elsewhere in the city: the House of Terror in the centre of Budapest, which opened in 2002 under the direction of Dr Maria Schmidt.

The House of Terror itself is a jarring and bizarre edutainment experience that blends together themed rooms on Hungary’s Nazi and Soviet occupations. The museum is nothing if not solemn, and you could be mistaken for thinking it means well. But look again: there is a political sleight of hand. The focus is on Nazism, intertwined with Communism. Hungarians are portrayed as victimised and powerless, their country rid of responsibility. The back of the information leaflet from when I visited thanked Orbán by name for his support for the project.

This is why many Holocaust historians, educators and Jews in Hungary have voiced concerns about the new museum. Dr Schmidt, who assumed the role of Director at the House of Fates, wanted to present a flawed vision of “love between Hungarian Jews and non-Jews” according to an interview with the blog Hungarian Spectrum. Schmidt has claimed that the museum has been subject to an “orgy of hate” from critics, which include the Israeli Holocaust museum Yad Vashem and the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum.

Her replacement as the project’s public face, Rabbi Slomó Köves, is known for being careful with his words. Although he received his doctorate in 2007 from the University of Debrecen in Eastern Hungary, there have been concerns raised internationally over his professional credentials as a curator and spokesperson of the broader Jewish community – and, furthermore, over his willingness to compromise with the government. In an interview with the conservative news website Origo, he has said that Jewish congregations should not take sides in political matters. Attempts to find common ground with the wider Jewish community in Budapest and more widely have been slow and pained, with a number of high-profile organisations giving up on the project entirely.

The greatest fear, amongst many, is that Hungary’s inability to recognise its own complicity in the Holocaust gives a carte blanche for Orbán (who studied political science for a short period at Pembroke College) to continue unchecked along the road to authoritarianism. It’s a path he has already made great strides along. Portraying Hungary as entirely the victim of so many years of terror, regardless of whether it is Nazi or Soviet (with little to distinguish between the two), has become a leitmotif in the rhetoric of Hungary’s popular right. Terror is terror, they claim – all of it imposed upon Hungary and never coming from within.

In speaking to the Hungarians who remain critical of the ruling party Fidesz, there already exists the belief that Orbán rules his country without any real challenge, and that the Országgyűlés has become a rubber-stamp Parliament. “There is no democracy any more in Hungary,” one student told me. In recent years, Orbán has targeted media freedom, immigrants and academia (most notably, the George Soros-funded Central European University, which is currently in the process of moving across the border to Vienna). Courtrooms and state newsrooms alike are packed with voices sympathetic to the ruling party. Internationally, Orbán has keenly espoused a resurgent European and global hard-right perspective.

Most notably, he has a close relationship with the Israeli Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahu (who earlier this year led a scorched-earth election campaign built on authoritarian principles), and has praised Brazil’s Jair Bolsonaro (who has frequently spoken out in support of the country’s former military dictatorship).

For all of the political concern that surrounds the museum and all it represents, it is still a quiet place – although not for long, if we’re to believe the Hungarian Prime Minister’s office. In a press conference last September, Dr Schmidt, Rabbi Köves, and Minister Gergely Gulyás anticipated an opening later this year, with the Government providing 2 billion florints (6.1 million euros) to the museum’s owners as well as contributing towards operating costs.

Köves, thanking Gulyás at the end of the conference, added that “every Secondary School pupil must visit this museum at least once”. The museum’s target demographic is young people: what are the lessons the museum expects to teach them? Though debates over curation and management continue, the project is quickly becoming an embarrassment. It is clear that opening is now a priority.

University’s visa advice to student a potential breach of immigration law

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A St Hilda’s student was advised by the University to travel to the UK on a tourist visa, a potential breach of immigration laws, Cherwell can reveal.

Anyone applying for a tourist visa must state that their main purpose of travel is not studying. The University told Cherwell that use of the Bodleian libraries alone “probably doesn’t meet the Home Office’s idea of study.”

The student had suspended her studies due to a serious illness and returned to her home country as a result. She was asked to continue her studies during her suspension, which necessitated the use of the Bodleian libraries.

The student requested a new Tier 4 visa to allow her to return to the UK but was informed that this would not be available possible the next academic year under Home Office rules.

Emails seen by Cherwell show that when she approached St Hilda’s for assistance, the College’s academic registrar advised her to travel to the UK on a tourist visa: “I have spoken with the University Student Immigration team about your situation.

“They tell me that if you want to come to the UK to use the library, you will need to organise a tourist visa to do so.”

The student responded to the email by writing: “Is there any chance you [could] have a conversation with the emigration team once more? “Because opening the tourist visa would be a lie – I don’t come to the UK for tourism in this case, I come simply for study, and I don’t like lying.”

Speaking to Cherwell, the student added: “I believe that foreign students can be taken better care of.

“When we accept our offers, we agree to the fact that Oxford will be executing some form of control over us. They put forth certain requirements and work targets that we have to fulfil to complete our degrees.

“It is rather strange, however, that having made the rules of the game clear, the Oxford administration then starts putting up barriers that make it more difficult to fulfil their own criteria.”

The College responded by reiterating their position, telling the student: “Under Home Office legislation, the University Student Immigration team cannot process an application for your new Tier 4 visa with a start date earlier than the start of October.

“Therefore, your only available route if you want to use Oxford libraries is to come to the UK on a short term tourist visa.”

It is legal to study for up to 30 days on a tourist visa, but according to Home Office guidance: “The study must be an extra activity that you do during your visit to the UK, and can’t be the main purpose of your visit.”

Speaking to Cherwell, St. Hilda’s academic registrar Rebekah Unwin explained: “After receiving the student’s initial email earlier this week, I spoke with the University Student Immigration Team, who advised that under Home Office legislation they cannot process a request for a Tier 4 visa with a start date earlier than the start of the academic year and that therefore if the student plans to come to the UK for a couple of weeks in the summer the only course of action open to her is to apply for a tourist visa.

“I then passed this advice on to the student, and also advised her to make contact with the Immigration Team herself for further details.”

Asked about the student’s use of the Bodleian library, the University’s Tier 4 visa compliance unit said: “If someone is coming to use a library without enrolling on a short course, or being accepted by a UK institution to undertake research or be taught about research, then this might not meet the Home Office’s idea of study and therefore would probably not be a problem for a visitor to carry out, even if it was the main purpose of their trip.”

Lady Margaret Hall JCR plans ambitious constitutional reforms

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Lady Margaret Hall has put forward proposals branded “the most wide-ranging restructure of the JCR in modern JCR history” by its president Josh Tulloch.

Lady Margaret Hall’s JCR are set to put an ambitious set of reforms to a vote at a general meeting on Sunday, following a wide-ranging review conducted by the LMH “Constitutional Reform Committee”. The reforms have been presented to JCR members by its President Josh Tulloch, a third-year PPE student.

Reforms include the introduction of subcommittees to replace the current singletier officer system, as well as the expansion of the specific legal duties of the College Trustees. The JCR is also hoping to create a new role, that of an independent Chair. The Chair would run elections, provide constitutional interpretations and relieve the President of neutrality obligations.

The constitutional reforms will require approval by a majority of attendees at the General Meeting on Sunday, before the new constitution is introduced. President Josh Tulloch commented: “We are confident that these changes will better equip our officers to serve the needs of the JCR far more effectively.

“Comprehensive reform was promised to the JCR, and this document delivers!”

Chair of the LMH JCR’s Constitutional Reform Committee and co-author of the constitutional reform proposals, Matthew Judson, a second-year PPE student at the college, said: “I’m delighted that we have managed to pull together some really robust reforms which I believe will strengthen governance, clarify grey areas, and help the JCR operate more smoothly.

He continued: “I’m optimistic that the proposals will gain the confidence of both the JCR membership and the College, and I look forward to leaving our JCR in the best possible shape for future generations of LMH students.”

The new constitution will replace the existing committee with a senior committee comprised only of the current trustees (the President, Treasurer and Secretary), along with the chairs of the four new subcommittees: welfare, equalities, internal, and social.

The consultation document argues that the new system will allow decisions to “be made by manageable-sized groups of Officers who are all directly concerned with the issues at hand.”

The new position of an independent Chair is intended to ensure impartiality in enforcement of JCR rules, thereby releiving the trustees of their neutrality obligations and providing a check on the President’s power. The document acknowledges that the Chair will hold a large amount of power, but argues that this will be constrained by their ease of removal.

The changes also includes the creation of Honourary Memberships of the JCR, and a provision allowing the Trustees to veto general meetings in the event of legal issues.

Interview: Lucy Worsley

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I meet Lucy in her office, set in the beautiful Tudor part of Hampton Court Palace, where she spends most of her time when not making television programmes in her day job as Chief Curator at Historic Royal Places. She invites me in, wonderfully dressed as always with her trademark bright lipstick, and I notice that her office is full of amazing memorabilia from previous programmes that she has made over the years, including several pairs of what appear to be historic dancing shoes. There are also shelves and shelves of books lining her walls, including her recently released work Queen Victoria: Daughter, Wife, Mother, Widow, which she kindly gifts me a copy of. We get talking firstly about her recent projects, especially regarding her focus on including women in the narrative.

Why do you enjoy writing about women in history?

I don’t like to ram it down peoples’ throats – I don’t have a lot of power in life, but I do have some influence and I like to be the sugar-coated face of feminism. It’s my secret mission that if we do a programme about the history of women it doesn’t say “women” all over it – it’s just entertaining and people hopefully may find it relevant and they may just imbibe from that the underlying feminist agenda. Although we have just been nominated for a BAFTA for our programme about the Suffragettes. I consider myself to be the sort of historian who’s work isn’t for other historians – it’s for people who don’t necessarily even like history or who don’t think that they like history. I am always looking for ways to make it entertaining as well as educational or serious or heavy – the flip side of that is that I could be accused of being frivolous – but I don’t mind that! I don’t think that’s a bad thing.

When you’re making a programme how do you decide on the educational value? How do you strike a balance between entertainment and so-called serious history?

I know that a lot of people get fed up with topics that appear to be obvious like Henry VIII for example – he does get a lot of programmes made about him. The reason is that he’s “box office” – the commissioners know that people will tune in – so I’ve got to find a sweet spot between topics that people will have heard of and find some connection to and yet where there is something fresh and new to say about them. Celebrity culture even applies to history! I hope what we did when we covered Henry VIII for BBC1 was to do it through the means of his wives and to put them at the centre of the story. That was considered to be slightly left field –that’s the sort of degree of radicalness that you can afford in a television environment.

You have recently written a book and made a programme about Queen Victoria, and you’re coming to the Oxford Playhouse later this month to give a talk. Why does she interest you?

On the 24th May she is 200 years old – it’s a big birthday that’s been in my diary for the last 10 years or so. Not only have I been working on this book but also on some new exhibitions at Kensington palace about her life – opening on the 24th of May. She was born in Kensington Palace and lived there until she was 18 years and 3 weeks old which is when she became the queen – an amazing joyful moment in her life and then at that point she leaves Kensington palace (our property) and then moved to Buckingham palace. One exhibition is in in the rooms where she grew up and that’s permanent – then we also have for this summer only a temporary exhibition which tells the story from 18 to death – the whole of the rest of her life when she wasn’t at Kensington Palace.

As a historian, what do you think about TV dramatisations that sometimes lack historical accuracy?

They’re brilliant! I will take them because they are gateway drugs if you like. I have a friend who teaches French 17th century history at Trinity College Oxford and she found that people were applying to do her subject because they had seen a crazy drama called Versailles. That’s very much entertainment but there was a nugget at the core of it that made people want to know more about this subject and that can be the first step on the ladder of involvement. I did genuinely get a letter from somebody who said “I came to Hampton Court Palace and saw an exhibition – I then watched a documentary about the same topic and then I read book, then an evening class, and then an Open University degree and now I want to come get a job as a curator here.” That was such a “yes” moment for me. You’ve got to start somewhere.

I got into it through historical fiction – I used to love reading historical novels and that was perhaps what drew me to it first of all. I’m not too proud to say that! I didn’t start by reading the Calendar of State Papers Domestic – I started by reading Jean Plaidy!

What do you think of Queen Victoria as a female monarch?

What interests me about her is that she had to meet or break the rules of being female that existed in the 19th century. Of course she had power and privilege so in a sense there are other women from the 19th century whose stories deserve to be told more but she is so well documented that there’s loads there to work with. The British edition of my book has a subtitle “daughter, wife, mother, widow” because she was those four things as well as being the Queen – the fact that she was the monarch was second choice to everybody – everyone wanted it to be a man. She was breaking the rules before she even started. The Victorians had such expectations of what daughters and wives and widows were supposed to do that she had to work within that and actually it was a really clever way of being a queen in the 19th century by presenting yourself as a wife, a daughter, a mother, I think, because these were the highest values of the Victorian age. They loved the idea of having the woman as the homemaker and Queen Victoria just went with that – she said I may be the queen but I’m also a lovely humble retiring home maker and I’m sure that’s part of the reason she survived while other countries were having revolutions. It’s like Queen Victoria was so unthreatening that she was so appealing to Victorian sensibilities that she wasn’t worth overthrowing – that is I think the secret of her success. That she presented herself as a little old lady is like the Miss Marple school of leadership!

Has life got better for women in society as time has gone on?

I don’t think history always “gets better” – you assume it does but if you have women being more economically active in the 18th century then less economically active in the 19th century because of changing social norms then let’s not take what we’ve got for granted in some areas of life – in America at the moment I would say we do see a reversing status of women in society.

How did you get interested in curation?

When I was 18 I visited a National Trust property – about the age when I had started my history degree – and I was thinking about what to do next and it suddenly struck me that this was a job! I know I’m quite lucky that it happened to me when I was 18 because for some people that light never goes off in their head, but I knew immediately what I was going to do so I did my degree and started searching for a job in this field. I did my PhD whilst working for English heritage, and the research that I did became an exhibition.

Do you have any advice for your university-age self?

Take yourself less seriously! I did a lot of things; I was involved with the RAG parade, I worked quite hard, I rowed [queue a loud exclamation from me].  I was so uptight and stressed and tense the whole time! This is advice that I would still give myself that I should chill out and relax a bit more. This is the problem us swots have!

How did you get into writing?

It had always been my goal to write a book – after I finished my PhD I could have turned it into a scholarly monograph but I wanted to turn it into a trade book instead, a book for the general reader. I like to think my genre is called non-fiction bodice ripper! When I published my PhD thesis with Faber and Faber they sexed up the title and called it “Cavalier: The story of a 17th century playboy”! The job of a historian is to do a piece of research work, but the job of the public historian is to do a piece of research work and then to make sure it is used in different ways. My PhD has been used in the form of an exhibition and an audio guide through that book and then later I made a BBC4 programme.

I noticed that sitting in the fireplace of Lucy’s office were three pairs of beautiful historical shoes, and we got onto the topic of historical fashion.

Sometimes I appear in a costume in my programmes which is partly because it’s cheaper than hiring actors, but also because of my love of dressing up! And it’s partly because one of our collections here at Hampton Court is a dress collection. It’s the royal ceremonial dress collection, and I think that historic costumes are a worthy topic of scholarly enquiry – they’re an excellent way into social history through material culture. I believe that clothes are important in the construction of an image, as we see queen Victoria doing, so I don’t mind putting some effort into wearing an outfit for the camera; it seems to be part of the job. Another part of me thinks that it doesn’t matter what we look like surely, but that messes with my head a bit; art historian thinks that it does but feminist thinks that it doesn’t. clothing from the past is all about hierarchy; that’s the big difference between the class structure of the 18th century – it is very clear, very delineated through clothing, and a lot of that is to do with the restriction of the movement of the women; she doesn’t need to move because she has servants to do that, that’s the signature of her high status. It doesn’t matter that she can’t hurry, pick anything up, labour; she’s not supposed to which is a sign of high status but a sign of entrapment I suppose.

[Lucy goes over to the mantlepiece and brings three pairs of shoes over to the table]

I did a programme about the history of dancing and we learned historical dances: these are the shoes of the 18th century minuet, a formal dance, these are the shoes of the 19th century polka, which is freer, and these are the shoes of the 1920s, which was my favourite dance because I was no longer wearing a corset, my potential husband had died in World War One, I had a vote, I had a job; I was liberated in my dress and my attitudes and my wild jazz inspired Charleston. I loved this project; the reason it happened was that when I got married my husband made me sign a pre-nuptial contract that I would never appear on Strictly!

Like you say, the personal is the political; it comes into everything; personally, I like the nitty gritty dirty detail of daily life; I know our visitors like it. They often come in thinking they should ask about the aesthetics of the Baroque or the reformation but what they really want to know is how did Tudor people go to the loo! They want to know how different their lives were to ours, and the answer to that is in some ways familiar, which is your way in, but the next job I have to do is to make them seem strange; they’re not just like us dressed in historic costumes; they had different language, different world view, different views on religion.

What I learn from history is that nothing stays the same, that change is possible. You can look at the world today and think that there is the possibility of me changing this. That’s what I think is ultimately the point of learning about history. Finally and most importantly it gives you the sense that political change is possible; whether that’s to do with underpants or Brexit!

Lucy’s show Queen Victoria: Daughter, Wife Mother and Widow comes to the Oxford Playhouse on the 27th May.

One van to rule them all?

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Many of you will already have a favourite kebab truck, and I bet you hold your opinion with conviction. An e-coli outbreak wouldn’t change your mind, let alone a review by some puny undergrad. Nevertheless, let me tell you who I think is the best in the business.

If you’re looking for love, forget the Taylorian – try the kebab truck parked out front. In the frigid air of an Oxford night, Hussain’s lights have an almost candle-like quality. The soft glow of the sign that adorns the van beckons visitors like a lighthouse to an island of deliciousness.

As you arrive, in an instant, the cold and darkness melt away and you find yourself bathed in the warmth of the van’s open façade. A golden rectangle illuminates the patch of pavement you stand on. It’s as if the van has achieved enlightenment, and has invited you to share in it.

Take a moment to stare in wonder at the menu. If you have ever craved food after a night of hedonism, Hussain’s will supply it. Pizza, kebabs, curry, falafel, hot dogs, you name it. How do they cook up such marvels in that small truck? Is there a secret underground kitchen? If so, does it connect to the Gladstone Link? I digress.

A wise man once said “ judge the character of a kebab truck by the character of its chips”, and Hussain’s passes this test with frying colours. The chips are hot, crunchy, and, most importantly, appropriately salted (it’s not sexy, but it matters). All of your standard toppings are on offer, but I tend to stick with just cheese. Anything more seems decadent.

If the universally loved chip symbolises the sharedness of human nature, then the mains represent joyful expression of self. Two in particular are worthy of note. The doner kebab is tender, and the flavours engage the sauces in a subtle dance of consistency and contrast across the palate. The popcorn chicken has a deliciously crunchy exterior, but, like your favourite tutor, is delightfully soft inside. You can get your meat in a wrap too, but try to avoid the (worryingly crunchy) rice. Whatever you choose, it’s unlikely to exceed a fiver.

One item, however, steals the show. The Special Chicken Burger is as exquisite as it is unique. While a sizeable piece of chicken sizzles in preparation, an egg is fried on the hot plate. In a few graceful sweeps of the boss’s dexterous hands, both nestle cosily together between soft white buns, alongside salads and sauces of your choosing.

The egg in burger move seems deliciously simple, right? But only with the benefit of hindsight. Lesser innovators try to break from the obvious, but the true visionaries redefine it.

So, next time you need a late-night meal, don’t be a tourist. Venture beyond Broad Street. Who knows, you might just like it.

In Search of a Poet

As far as the British literary landscape is concerned, few public appointments provoke such interest as that to be the next Oxford Professor of Poetry. Established thanks to a bequest of a Berkshire landowner more than three hundred years ago, the role has grown to become internationally important, with the Nobel Prize laureates Wole Soyinka and Derek Walcott, from Nigeria and St Lucia respectively, being past contenders.

The Professor’s responsibilities are relatively straightforward: give one public lecture per term throughout their appointment, help to judgesome of the University’s writing awards, including the Newdigate Prize and Jon Stallworthy Prize, and, in the University’s own words, ‘encourage the art of poetry’.

Winner of last year’s Queen’s Gold Medal for Poetry, Simon Armitage, is due to deliver his final lecture as Professor of Poetry, entitled ‘When I Heard the Learn’d Astronomer’, in 3rd Week. Alongside devoting lectures to individual figures including Elizabeth Bishop and Bob Dylan, Armitage has dealt with medieval literature and questions of literary form.

Every four years, as the Professor’s time in office draws to a close, Oxford University opens nominations for the next election. To become a candidate in the election, an individual must receive at least fifty nominations from members of Convocation, defined as ‘all the former student members of the University who have been admitted to a degree (other than an honorary degree) of the University, and of any other persons who are members of Congregation or who have retired having been members of Congregation on the date of their retirement’. Once nominations have closed, the final list of candidates is published, alongside the names of all those who nominated them, and an online election held. Shortly afterwards, at a meeting of Convocation, the result is announced. This year, the result will come on the last day of term – the 21st of June – making for an exciting end to the academic year.

If media speculation is to be believed, the search for the forty-sixth Professor is nearing its end. With five candidates in the race, Alice Oswald is tipped as the favourite, backed to beat Aaron Kent, Todd Swift, John Leonard, and Andrew Mcmillan. Were she to receive the most votes, she would be the first woman to be appointed to the position. Awarded the Geoffrey Faber Memorial Prize for her 2005 collection Woods, etc, Oswald studied Classics at New College, so Oxford is hardly unfamiliar to her. Her work synthesises this knowledge of classical literature with her experience of the natural world. Dart (2002) mixes Greek legend with folk myth to tell the story of the Devonshire river.

Renewed interest in who will be the next Professor of Poetry is almost certainly attributable to two developments: more scrutiny than ever before about appointments to senior positions in prestigious public institutions, and a surge in the reading and purchasing of poetry (in 2018, sales of poetry books rose by more than 12%). Nominations having closed at 4pm yesterday, we now know who is definitely in the running. Let the voting commence.

‘In Search of Equillibrium’

Reading In Search of Equilibrium is unquestionably difficult. The poems are shocking, not because they trigger something alien, but because they are unsettlingly familiar. Their intense identification with the basic points of humanity activates an equally intense process of introspection; Lola, the current Young People’s Laureate for London, forces us to look at ourselves with precision in those moments when we are at our most vulnerable.

The entire collection can be summarised, in one sense, by the verb ‘process’. We are alert to the processing of a devastating loss, which the speaker achieves through her cathartic act of writing. At the same time, the reader is challenged to process these emotions at a heightened level of intimacy and empathy. The poems are uncomfortable to read, and I found the level of intensity demanding at times. Any hope of reading a gentle, relaxed poetry collection is quickly dispelled in the face of the realities of age, life, and disease. The vulnerability we are expected to emulate as readers is exhausting. If there is anywhere that Lola is less successful, it is these moments that lack reprieve.

The intensity of the poems could easily lead to their integral message being lost, and the collection does teeter on the brink of saturation with despondency. However, I felt that we are not meant immediately to understand the poems, but take our time in processing them, however painful. The poet Anthony Anaxagorou has said that ‘Theresa Lola will soon become one of the most important writers in the UK’, and his emphasis on the need for her poems, not necessarily their easiness to read, stands out. Reading the collection is a draining experience, but ultimately a rewarding one.

‘Process’ embodies a further meaning in Lola’s deliberate inclusion of the language of technology. She transforms the human brain into a computer, processing the indeterminable data of loss and love. My favourite poem from the collection, ‘<h> Cutting Back on Work Shifts </h1>’, is framed by computer- coding language, the angled brackets imploring us to ‘let the computer rest for a minute, exhale, today let silence be your search engine for peace’. I found an ultimately overwhelming sense of closure amidst the collection’s frequently- exhibited grieving: a reassurance that it is alright to cry, to rest, and to feel happy again. At the point where the poems become most painful and tender, Lola, as poet and griever, is able to take a step back and clarify the process with a striking precision. These are elegiac poems for a technological world.

The collection as a whole asks us, with a gentle but unescapable force, to re-examine our comprehension of faith, love, and grief. The title is active – she has not completed her quest, but is still searching for equilibrium and for closure. We are invited to join her in this pursuit, making the reading of her poems a shared experience, as we reflect on what it is to feel love, pain, and grief. This is a collection for those disillusioned by our often-impersonal modern world, and well worth buying if you are looking to question what it is to be human at an essential level.

The Power of Telling Tales in Ali Smith’s ‘Spring’

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The third instalment in Ali Smith’s seasonal quartet is a triumph. An uplifting and generous read, it utilises the formula established by the previous two novels of the series expertly, the result being a work that stands alongside its predecessors, but firmly on its own two feet. A novel concerned first and foremost with storytelling, it’s narrative weaves together art and modernity with all the ease and flair readers have come to expect of Smith. Yet where Autumn was striking for establishing the formula, and Winter for taking it further, Spring seems to stand apart as a distinctively complete work, a cut above in the sophistication of the ideas it explores. 

Just as Autumn began with an invocation our greatest writer of social commentary, Charles Dickens, so Spring opens with a wry nod to his 1854 novel, Hard Times: ‘Now what we don’t want is facts.’ This subversion of the mantra of Dickens’ arch-capitalist Gradgrind (‘Now, what I want is, Facts’) forms a part of a series of monologues distributed throughout the text which seem to represent the ‘story’ as the establishment would have us read it. Throughout the text these passages attempt a piercing deconstruction of the narratives so prevalent in contemporary media, an attempt to get at the truth in a post-truth world. Yet Smith’s invocation of Dickens points to a wider sense of the novel itself as bound up in questions of storytelling, of truth and misrepresentation.

The opening chapter of the novel finds Richard, a small time TV director, at a station platform busy resisting the urge to write his life into story, disillusioned as he has become. He observes himself ‘storying his own absence’ until his becomes a ‘story of myself avoiding stories’; 

‘He was a man on a railway platform. There was no story.’ 

His is a disillusionment fed by a script he is working on, with its hyper-sexualised, near-ludicrous account of the lives of poet Rainer Maria Rilke and writer Katherine Mansfield, veering about as far from the truth as is possible. Richard’s existence (as an artist) is thrown into chaos. His despair (he is also mourning his friend, lover and long-time collaborator Paddy) is such that he attempts suicide. The idea of killing the story becomes, for Smith, akin to suicide. Yet what to do when those stories become corrupted, seem under threat and ineffectual? It is in typical Smithian fashion that, before he manages to kill himself, a chance encounter throws Richard’s life off course, and ultimately reunites him with the power of the story and its truth. 

Across the quartet so far, Smith seems dedicated to the power of these chance encounters, of the magic when two strangers of opposing world views meet and interact. The notion is evocative of E. M. Forster’s ‘only connect’, and it is surely in such a condition-of-England tradition that Smith writes. She is the Forster or the Gaskell for our time, the novelist-as-national-healer made post-modern.  

Later on in the novel Smith relates the passion with which Rilke, at the end of his life, read the novels of D. H. Lawrence, giving him new creative energy – which for an artist means hope. More broadly than the power of storytelling, however, Smith is concerned with the power of art. As with the last two instalments, the novel also serves as a showcase for the work of a British artist, this time Tacita Dean. Richard attends an exhibition of her work ‘hung with pictures of clouds’ and is instantly struck by its power as art;

‘As he stood there what he was looking at stopped being chalk on a slate, stopped being a picture of a mountain. It became something terrible, seen.’ 

Smith’s use of ‘terrible’ is ambiguous here, yet the experience enriches Richard, making ‘the real clouds above London look[-] different’, as if ‘they were something you could read as breathing space.’ Art thus becomes a means of reading the world around oneself, but also of bringing people together, as Richard exchanges a ‘look[-]’ and ‘laugh[-]’ with a fellow exhibition attendee. Later, describing another of Dean’s works, Smith’s narrator observes its effect; ‘what’s left is the story of human beings and air.’ The power of art comes full circle and becomes the power of storytelling itself; the story Richard reads in the cloud’s after seeing Dean’s clouds, the story of his interaction with another at the exhibition. Stories are revealed to be essential to our comprehension of the world around us, the one irrefutable.

Smith does more than her bit to fight back against the mis-telling of stories in the mainstream media. Her acknowledgements reveal the research that went into her portrayal of the experiences of detainees in UK Immigration Removal Centres, and the appalling conditions they are forced to endure. In this way the novel functions as a necessary and powerful response to Windrush. 

The ending of the novel is ambiguous in its treatment of story. It’s final chapters are staged dramatically, teasing narrative detail piece by piece for maximum effect. The denouement is perfectly choreographed into something beautifully tragic. Here, Smith drops her self-reflexive stance to allow the power of the story, the very thing the novel has attempted defended from misuse, to take full hold over the reader. Story, then, becomes rapture as well as site of interrogation, and while Smith’s conclusion offers no easy solution, the lasting impression of the novel is one of hope.  The story is allowed its time to act as a force for good, returned to its proper position, reclaimed from the careless story-tellers that dominate the media today. Smith’s is a call for the truth of the story.

A necessary and tender novel, it is this spring’s must-read. This third instalment in Smith’s quartet is perhaps the best yet; a novel for our times that asks all the right questions of the current climate, but also of itself. With Smith at the helm we are never in danger of entering the realm of propaganda; always there is ambiguity and rumination, self-awareness and humility, allowing the reader the chance to fit the pieces together for themselves rather than be told what to think. With one more novel to come, Smith’s four-year project is shaping-up to be a stunning achievement in contemporary literary fiction, and a necessary remedy to the mis-use of story-telling in our time.