Saturday, May 17, 2025
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Society divided: Dickens and revolution

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Though he is known in public consciousness for illuminating life in the nineteenth century, Charles Dickens wrote firmly in the shadow of the eighteenth. A Tale of Two Cities, his reflection on the French Revolution, is told not in grand political abstractions, but with a focus on the lives of French emigrants living in London, and their relationship with the old country. Originally published in 1859, A Tale of Two Cities constitutes Dickens’ first main attempt at ‘historical fiction.’

Dickens’ writing, constrained by serialisation, is perhaps uncharacteristically punchy. He takes us quickly through the historical timeline on which the plot is based, from the dusk of ancien régime Paris to the height of Robespierre’s terror.

The novel is half-remembered now for its famous opening line: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” These words are the key to unlocking A Tale of Two Cities’ underlying theme of duality. They epitomise the struggle of holding to opposing things side by side. Dickens knows it is far easier to hop off the fence and pick a side, as the people of France did in 1789. The ‘two cities’ are not merely geographical (Paris and London), but ideological—aristocratic excess versus revolutionary zeal.

In A Tale of Two Cities, both systems of thought result in acts of evil. Whether it be the Monsieur de Marquis running over a child with his carriage and proceeding to pay for the infant’s life with a single coin, or the Jacquerie’s reign of mob rule and guillotine justice.

Dickens quite deliberately shies away from individual presentations of what it is to be ‘bad’. Characters such as Madame Defarge emphasise the point, but the prevailing theme is one of collective mentality. The revolutionary crowds who storm the Bastille prison fortress are referred to as ‘the sea’, a metaphor that plainly suggests these individuals, put together as one, are an unstoppable natural force. Later in the novel, Dickens uses the same technique by personifying the entire St. Antoine district of Paris. The arsonist revolutionaries, the Jacques, who burn down the Evrémonde country chateau are known only as points of the compass, and their Parisian counterparts are numbered rather than named.

This has a whiff of privileged ignorance, or even arrogance, about it. Dickens seems reluctant to venture even the tiniest investigation of their character or motivation, because they are proletarian delinquents. But his detachment from the French partisans is consistent throughout the novel, regardless of class.

In his preliminary sketches of the rancid ancien régime, Dickens uses the term ‘Monseigneur’ quite ambiguously. The descriptions are abstract, targeting no one person in favour of lambasting the entire pre-revolutionary social order.

This technique, a focus on the collective, is integral to Dickens wider tale of two cities, his depiction of fundamental division in society between two extremes. In the novel’s closing chapters, this is shown quite movingly in the face-off between Miss Pross and Madame Defarge. The two cities are in this instance two women, who somehow know they are determined enemies. Yet the language barrier renders them incapable of communication, and they resort to primal violence.

It is hard to identify one single protagonist in A Tale of Two Cities, but the antagonist is in plain sight—division itself. The tragic sacrifice at the novel’s climax is the price we pay for being zealous and uncompromising. Rather than identifying ourselves by ideology, or how we voted in a referendum, Dickens asks that, every once in a while, we adhere to that quaint tradition of keeping our ears open and our mouths shut.

The Coen brothers: a dynamic directing duo

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Hollywood refuses to allow the name of more than one director to be placed in film credits unless the directors are an ‘established duo’. It is believed that, if directing was considered a collaborative process, it would undermine the role of the director by reducing his or her importance.

Therefore, in all of their pre-2003 works, Joel Coen is credited as director and Ethan Coen as writer. Indeed, in some instances they adopted an alias: Roderick Jaynes. Even now when both are credited as co-directors, there is a tendency amongst the public to think of the director in the singular sense. Collaboration is a concept which undermines the celebrity culture of the modern era, so cannot figure in public consciousness.

Perhaps this is why, when I told friends that I was writing this piece on the Coen brothers, I was met with near universal confusion: very few know who they are. This is despite the fact that they are one of only six directors to win three Oscars for the same film, and only the third directing duo to win an Academy award.

Joel Coen completed a degree programme at film school in New York, whilst Ethan studied philosophy, and this is manifested in a combination of quality cinematography with a sort of quasi-intellectualism that characterises their films. Fargo, with its bleak, snow-blown depiction of Minnesota inspires an existential terror as one is shown greed’s true and hideous face. No Country For Old Men, with its incredible panoramas of the modern American West, depicts humanity’s capacity for avarice in a chillingly empty and unfulfilling reality.

Indeed, the covetous, self-serving tendencies of the modern age is perhaps, more than anything else, the overarching theme of the Coen brothers’ films. This should not be seen merely as a product of their liberal upbringing, with Joel and Ethan the children of an academic and artist raised in 1960s America. Rather, they are quintessentially products of the 1990s and 2000s: the age of the billionaire banker, the unsympathetic boss and above all the white-collar worker, transfixed on breaking out of his deathly dull shell into a world of irresistibly dangerous wealth.

Music, or the lack thereof, is a key component of Coen brothers films. At one extreme one would look at No Country For Old Men as an example of the Coen brothers at their most innovative. The film has almost no soundtrack whatsoever, yet its deathly silence awakens much deeper responses that one might think possible. This idea was presented by Ethan to a sceptical Joel, but the two agreed to go ahead with it, and reaped the rewards. The lack of music means the audience cannot rely on sounds to guide their responses, and this creates simultaneously a sense of unease but also engrossment.

Conversely, Inside Llewyn Davis uses sound to convey the deep-seated antipathy towards life that grows within the titular character as the film progresses. Perhaps the most resonant moment is when Llewyn is made to sing ‘Fare Thee Well’ by his hosts despite the fact that this song was traditionally sung by Llewyn’s now deceased partner. Mrs Gorfein then chimes in with a harmony, and Llewyn promptly loses his temper spectacularly, and the dissonance between his beautifully composed song on the one hand and the uncontrolled rage on the other shows how masterfully the Coen brothers can deploy auditory effects.

Yet theirs is not merely a two-way collaboration. One must also pay homage to regulars like George Clooney, Frances McDormand (Joel’s wife) and Steve Buscemi. Their ability to attract actors of this calibre illustrates the Coen brothers’ consummate skills as a directing duo: who can forget McDormand’s performance in Fargo as Marge, a pregnant police officer who becomes more and more aware and disgusted by the horrors that afflict her seemingly innocuously sleepy locality? Whilst the frequency of the McDormand-Coen collaboration may seem like the epitome of nepotism (and, indeed, it probably is), it is a successful, fruitful marital partnership on the big screen.

Joel and Ethan Coen are perhaps most famous for their inversion of genres, and their tendency to add a noir element to each of their films. For instance, one can see No Country For Old Men as a subversion of the classic Western and Miller’s Crossing as depicting twists on many of the tropes of Prohibition-era crime stories.

Their ability to tell wonderful stories by reworking classic film genres mirrors how we should rework our perception of the film director: they do not have to be an autonomous creator, but a coalescence of two great artists is equally valid: Joel and Ethan Coen most definitely constitute a dynamic duo.

SeXX-based cancer

The recent discovery of the biological basis for sex-based differences in health has acted as a catalyst for an explosion of understanding in the field of sex medicine.

The incidence of many different types of cancer varies between men and women. Meningioma, a form of usually benign brain tumour, is twice as likely to occur in adult females (30 to 70 years old) than adult males. A study in Japan also found that women are 2.14 times more likely to develop non-urothelial carcinoma than males, a rare form of aggressive bladder cancer. Yet it’s not all doom and gloom for females: gliomas, a normally malignant cancer of the brain’s glial cells, is much more common in males.

This sex-based difference in health has been attributed to the gonadal hormones, produced by the sex organs in males and females. These seem to be linked to differences in tumour rates. The incidence of bladder cancer was shown to be higher in post-menopausal women than in pre-menopausal, probably due to a decrease in the concentration of hormones such as oestrogen after menopause. Many cancers even have receptors that recognise female hormones on their surface, making them responsive to progesterone and oestrogen levels. What’s more, women undertaking hormone replacement therapy have increased risk of developing a meningioma. The same can be said of male prostate cancer patients who’ve had their hormones therapeutically decreased.

However, sex hormones alone are not sufficient to explain all variation between males and females. Scientists have observed differences in brain structure between mice of both sex which have been genetically engineered to prevent the development of sex organs and so are unable to produce sex hormones. This divergence has been attributed to basic genetic differences between the male and female cells.

While male cells contain XY chromosomes, female cells contain XX. Due to its physical size, the X chromosome carries more genes than the Y chromosome. Indeed, female cells must inactivate one of their X chromosomes to prevent over-expression of these genes. When the X chromosome is incompletely inactivated genes found on it are over-expressed, with potentially severe consequences. This is associated with many diseases prevalent in women, including autoimmune diseases such as lupus. Interestingly, men with Klinefelter’s syndrome whose cells contain XXY chromosomes due to a failure of cellular machinery during meiosis (cell division to form sperm or eggs) are more at risk of developing diseases normally prevalent in women. This is most likely due to their increased levels of X chromosome expression.

Scientists are channeling their knowledge of sex-based diseases to combat them. For example, the protective effect of male hormones in inhibiting meningiomas could potentially be used to treat the tumour itself. The field’s innovative perspective on health is primed to revolutionise the way we prescribe medication and treat disease in the near future.

University denies reports of overseas campus

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Oxford University has denied reports that it is to open a foreign campus in France.

The Telegraph reported that French officials met with the University last week to discuss the proposed site, which would have been Oxford’s first ever foreign campus.

However, the University has denied that any such plan exists.

In a statement given to Cherwell, Stephen Rouse, Head of News and Information, said: “The University has received several constructive and helpful proposals from European colleagues since the Brexit vote. We are not, however, pursuing the model of a campus overseas.”

The Telegraph claimed that construction of any such site would begin in 2018, with courses being restructured to accommodate the prospective partnership.

This is a developing news story and will be updated with more information as we receive it.

The Winning Shots

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“The local trains in Mumbai are hectic, sweaty, and dangerous. This woman, with the city scape racing beside her, sits with tranquility, etched into her disposition like the lines on her face.”

Ava Scott

“I’ve been taking family portraits during meals and Christmas time. This is what Italian meals look like.”

Eleonora Narbone

 

“This is a film photograph trying to capture pre-finals fun times at the Rickety Press.”

Pauline Chatelan

“Maria Teresa Maurichi, an Italian lady, is portraited in her old home together with her beloved little dog. All our objects and belongings are the mirrors of our character and personality. This picture is part of a bigger project of analogic black and white photographs where people are portraited in the enviroment and surrounded by the things that represent them in order to show their most intimate and private aspects.”

Michelangelo Cao

Old&New: The potential of oranges

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During the exam period, in an attempt to escape revision, I scoured the art section of my sixth form library and decided to spend my free period reading about Abstract Expressionism.

Whilst I admired Rothko’s bold use of colour, and the movement and energy of De Kooning, my friends proceeded to mock the paintings. Their most common criticism was “even I could have done that,” as if art requires skill which exceeds that of the everyday, average person in order for it to have value.

I witnessed similar skepticism whilst scrolling down my Facebook feed. I came across a Tate post advertising the new Conceptual Art exhibition, and the comment section was rife with cynicism and criticisms. One person described Roelof Louw’s ‘Pyramid of oranges’ as a “greengrocer’s display”, dismissing the interesting concepts of decay and passing of time behind the work, as well as the exciting audience participation involved. Likewise, a friend recently posted a picture of Duchamp’s controversial ‘Fountain’ from their trip to the Tate Modern, a piece which challenged our ideas of what art could be. Yet again, I was struck by the number of complaints about modern art and how “it has gone too far.”

Yet isn’t that what art is all about? Throughout time, art has developed by pushing the boundaries and limits of what is acceptable. Whilst it is important to appreciate the impressiveness of art and music from the past, this doesn’t mean closing our minds to the exploration of new ideas that comes with modern art. Surely it is the fact that art and music are constantly changing which makes it so exciting?

It appears to me that many people have an expectation of what art should be in order for it to be ‘good’ or ‘real’ art. They expect the artist to have taken a long time creating it; they want art to be detailed and realistic and representational. Perhaps this is the result of school curricula which tend to focus on a student’s ability to reproduce what they see in a realistic and detailed style, since it would be diffi cult to compare work and award grades if some chose to pursue abstraction. Or perhaps it’s because the Oxford Dictionary’s definition of art places an emphasis on the beauty or emotional power of an artwork, and human creative skill involved in creating art.

In many ways, I find this definition of art to be limiting, both for the artist and for the spectator. Firstly, does art really have to be beautiful to be good? What about artists like Francis Bacon, with his contorted and grotesque figures, or Jenny Saville’s unsettling and frank portraits? Is there not something shallow in only appreciating art if it is aesthetically pleasing? Art has the potential to do so much more than just look pretty. It can express philosophical or mathematical ideas, an example being conceptual art, which places more importance on the ideas behind the artwork than on the way it looks or the finished art product.

Read more next week.

Can we measure free will?

The question of whether humans have free will, or whether everything we do is predetermined, is one of the most debated and recurring issues in philosophy. There is little professional agreement on what defines free will and the distinction between voluntary and stimulus-generated action must also be taken into account. Despite these uncertainties, researchers in experimental psychology have attempted to test the concept using brain imaging technologies.

Some philosophers argue that we could predict every act and decision if we knew everything about all laws and probabilities, a concept known as determinism. The question that then remains is whether this is compatible with the notion of free will. An idea known as compatibilism states that it is and argues that the fact that all acts are, in theory, predictable takes nothing from the notion of volition.

Before we can perform experiments examining the existence of free will, we must first define it. Most people will intuitively think of free will as the independent agency of an individual to do as he or she wants at any given time. Some say it is the freedom to form any intention to act, others that it is the freedom to make a conscious decision resulting in an action, or at least an attempt at an action. It is also about how we feel: the undeniable phenomenological feeling that we are free to decide what to do and when to do it, and to change our minds in the process.

The American neuroscientist Benjamin Libet famously tried to show experimentally that free will does not exist in the traditional sense. In the 1980s, he and his team used EEG—a brain imaging technique which measures electrical activity on the scalp—to assess what they called ‘readiness potential’, a spike in neuron activity occurring before the conscious decision to act. Libet showed it was even possible to predict a simple action, flexing the wrist, before the participant was aware of any intention to do so.

The participants were instructed to pick a random point in time to flick their wrist while the experimenters recorded an EEG signal from the participants’ scalps. During the experiment, the participants were asked to note the position of a dot on an oscillating timer when “he/she was first aware of the wish or urge to act”. In a similar experiment, participants were asked to note the position of the dot when the urge occurred to them and subsequently ‘veto’ the decision to act and refrain from flexing their wrist.

It turned out that the EEG signal, readiness potential, started 550 milliseconds before the actual action and 350 milliseconds before the participants became aware of the urge to act. It is important to note that self-report measures of awareness can be highly problematic, telling us when certain brain processes come together based on the feelings of the individual, rather than when it actually occurs.

The results of Libet’s experiments have been widely claimed to be evidence against free will, seeming to suggest that voluntary action springs from subconscious brain areas, but Libet himself was not so quick to agree. The fact that participants could veto the urge to act suggested to Libet that there might be a ‘free won’t’ rather than a ‘free will’, that decisions are initiated unconsciously and free will is the veto-power.

Later neuroscientific experiments have confirmed Libet’s results, to the degree that we can now predict simple actions up to seven seconds before the participant was aware of their decision, but the interpretations are still widely disputed. Primarily, the neuroscientific experiments have questioned how aware we are of decisions being made, but notions of agency and volition still stand. The question then becomes one of consciousness, on which we still have little neurological traction.

Life Divided: rowing

For (Francesca Salisbury):

Floating down the river at a comfortable rate eighteen, you pause to watch the sun rise over the bridge ahead, speckles of light dance on the ripples in the water.

Though the air is sharp, and your cheeks are flushed, you’re wrapped up warm against the chilly breeze. Whilst your hands in fleece-lined gloves are hard at work, you enjoy a relatively peaceful morning on the Isis, passing time by comparing the boathouses on the bank.

Sound familiar? Didn’t think so. At least not for eight of the nine members of the boat. Welcome to the life of a cox. Otherwise known as: the dictator of the boat. This is the otherwise-insignificant figure who gets all the glory and none of the gruel.

Deemed pretty much useless for any other sport due to vertical challenges, coxes relish the opportunity not only to participate in a sports team, but also verbally attack beefy crew members who they would never dare to cross on land. Whilst we vigorously attack anyone who may hint at the fact that we do less than the ‘real’ rowers (surprisingly scary coming from someone who is no more than 5ft tall and is probably half their weight), coxes know that they’ve got it easy.

2km erg tests at 9pm? No thanks. Circuits three times a week? I’m fine, actually. Squats on the raft at dawn? Nah. And we get to boss people about.*

Don’t be mistaken; a cox has serious responsibilities. Occasional steering and shouting at the rowers can be extremely taxing. In fact, it has not been unheard of for a cox to collapse from exhaustion after a hard morning’s rowing. In the end, though, the sacrifices are worth it, even if only the back of my head makes it into the official team photo.

*Disclaimer: The author herself is a 5ft-nothing cox and therefore is qualified to make these statements.

Against (Sian Bayley):

Like most freshers, I took part in a rowing taster session during my first week at university. Having previously watched the boat race on TV, I was excited to try out this new sport and fit snugly into the Oxford stereotype.

But, five minutes into the session, I fell out of the boat.

A combination of a broken seat, a very quiet cox, and my measly strength meant that as soon as I ‘caught a crab’ (a term used for when a rower is unable to release the blade from the water at the right time and it acts as a brake), I was overpowered, and quickly ejected from my seat into the muddy depths of the Isis. It was very cold. It was not refreshing.

And thus began my hatred of rowing. I admit, I partly hate rowing because I’m not very good at it. But having lived with three rowers in my second year, I have also had to put up with the forever intrusive and invasive rowing culture.

From initiations, to crew dates, to carbloading, to ‘rowchat’, I saw it all (quite literally, considering the amount of lycra they wore on a daily basis), and decided the whole thing was a farce.

Who on earth would want to get up at 5am on a cold winter day and do two hours of strenuous exercise, before eating twice their body weight for breakfast?

Who would want to pay £140 for a college splash jacket, running down rival colleges on an online chat board which replaces swear words with pig Latin equivalents, live under a two week ‘lash ban’, then be forced to drink yogurt from a condom and admit to salacious gossip about you by downing your drink as part of a fun night out?

I’ll admit it, sipping Pimms on the sunbaked riverside whilst watching Torpids or Eights is fun. But rowing, its early starts, and the laddish culture which accompanies it, just isn’t for me.

Cocktail of the week: Raspberry fields forever

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Hailing from Liverpool, I couldn’t not make at least one reference to the Beatles in my time as Food & Drink editor.

Yesterday got you down? Oxford got you working eight days a week? Well don’t let me or your hangover brunch down and make the most of brunch with this refreshing cocktail. In my life, I’ve not had many cocktails better than this—all the flavours come together in a perfect blend and the fruity tastes are the perfect accompaniment to your brunch. You can’t buy me love, but you can sure buy yourself some alcohol-fuelled happiness with this cocktail.

After a few of these cocktails, you’ll be nostalgically singing any Beatles song, as we all should be doing when drunk.

Ingredients:
2 Parts (Raspberry) Vodka
1 Part Raspberry Puree
Lemonade
1 Piece Lemon
1 Whole Raspberry to garnish

Method:

1. Add a handful of fresh raspberries and a sprinkle of raw sugar to the bottom of a glass.

2. Muddle your raspberries to create the puree. Use a muddler (a wooden spoon will work too!) to smash your fruit until it has the appearance of jam.

3. Add Vodka and ice to the glass.

4. Give the drink a good stir to make sure everything is well mixed.

5. Top up with lemonade.

6. Garnish with a lemon slice and a fresh raspberry.

Enjoy (with a little help from your friends)!

Oxford allegedly in talks to open campus in France

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Reports suggest that Oxford University are in talks with the French government about the possibility of opening a campus in France.

According to The Telegraph, French officials met with the University last week to discuss the proposed site. Should the campus be established, it would the University’s first ever foreign campus.

A spokesperson for Oxford University told the Telegraph: “Oxford has been an international university throughout its history and it is determined to remain open to the world whatever the future political landscape looks like.”

The Telegraph claims that construction of any such site would begin in 2018, with courses being restructured to accommodate the prospective partnership.

Oxford University have been contacted for comment.

This is a breaking news story and will be updated with more information as we receive it.