Oxford's biggest student newspaper, produced by and for members of the University of Oxford, since 1991.
The Nightingale and the Rose is reminiscent of a fairy tale, but it is far from a bedtime story for children. This adaption of one of Oscar Wilde’s short stories is dark, enthralling and raises questions about love and sacrifice. Wilde’s story focuses on a student who is deeply in love, however the object of […]
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What in particular draws you to the short story form as opposed to the novel? Well, every writer is different, but to me novels seem to get overloaded with unnecessary background filler. No one cares what a character had for breakfast. Also, a lot of character development rings false to me. It seems contrived. People […]
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It’s winter when he goes back to Oxford – perhaps it’s been winter since he left – and they meet at the gate of the Botanic Gardens, where Ted has his hands in his pockets and is looking twice his size. Ted says, “You took your time, Denny. I’ve been waiting seventy years.” He laughs […]
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Varlam Shalamov (1907-1982) is probably the best-known Gulag writer after Solzhenitsyn, spending twelve years in labour camps. He wrote lots of short stories about his experiences. This one is from his collection The Resurrection of the Larch, and describes his arrival at a remote prison camp. The Berth of Hell (1967) The heavy doors of […]
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It is an important and oft-lamented fact that students never have time for pleasure reading. Between deadlines, social lives and cleaning flatmates’ vomit off the bathroom ceiling (which is as inconvenient as it is mildly impressive), the student lifestyle simply doesn’t leave room for anything as time-consuming as a novel. Short fiction, on the other […]
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I’ve been to the river in a village on the outskirts of town only three times in my long life. The first time was one of my happiest days, and the second one of my most miserable. The third visit, of course, fell somewhere in between.
Continue ReadingThe Obsidian Poplar and Other Stories, an anthology of ten works, half of which are written by Oxford students and the other half by students from Cambridge, is a pleasantly eclectic collection of works, covering love, loss, and all that runs between the two. The stories are impressive for the breadth of experiences which they […]
Continue ReadingA country house in winter is something which brings to mind a rather romantic picture. But the glittering frosts always come later than expected, and are always accompanied with such an unanticipated, biting bitterness from the cold that the crystals fade half-forgotten on the dull brown leaves. The cold inside the house staunches […]
Continue ReadingReaching one arm from the bathroom window, Mary watches snowflakes lighting on the fine, raised hairs of her skin: they perch for a moment in perilous, lacy wetness before retracting into even more miniscule droplets. The fan rasps its endless breath. Last night, with the shape of her own breath above her in the silent […]
Continue Reading“Welcome kids! I’m going to be your guide as we go through the museum today, telling you everything you need to know about what life was like at the beginning of the 21st century. If you have any questions, just raise your hands. “This is the Transport Room. Here are old vehicles workers used to […]
Continue Reading“You must stay drunk on writing so that reality cannot destroy you.” Ray Bradbury As the weather turns colder, it gets increasingly easier to stay curled up in bed, under the duvet, reveling in the warmth of dreams. But you need to get up, tear yourself out of the sheets, and deal with the world. Sometimes […]
Continue ReadingDecember 22, 2012: Fuck physics, fuck Cambridge, fuck everything. If you could’ve only seen her, Stevie! Glowing there among the coloured bulbs and the quaint ornaments of the Christmas tree. It was at the Trents’ Christmas party. Mrs Trent invited some of the Eton boys as usual — only the party wasn’t boring as […]
Continue ReadingThere is another woman living in my apartment. She wears my clothes to work, she eats my food. I find her hair caught in the shower drain or stuck to the exposed glue where the label has peeled back from a jar of peaches. She is not neat. Her bobby pins snake across the bathroom […]
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