The Pilot Trinity 25

The Pilot TRINITY 2025

Editorial Welcome to the final instalment of the Pilot for this academic year. In order to celebrate the effort and achievement of our most able students in the sixth form, this edition includes the Howard and Mitchell Essay prise winners and runners up. For this internal competition, LVIth students are encouraged to submit an essay on a topic of their choice which showcases rigorous research and lively academic writing. The Howard prize, celebrates thinking in the arts and humanities whereas the Mitchell prize is awarded to students who have produced a STEM thesis.

Also included in this edition is an outstanding comparative essay produced as part of the A level English Literature course and an award winning entry to the ‘If I was an engineer…’ national competition.

As always, we are grateful to Mr Edwin Aitken for his support in sharing some of the outstanding pieces of art that Chigwellians have produced. Within this edition, we have chosen to celebrate our young artists who have entered the Royal Academy Young Artists’ Summer Show and some our most outstanding A Level and GCSE pieces.

We wish you all a very happy summer.

CONTENTS FRONT COVER: PICASSO BLUE OR ROSE INSPIRED LANDSCAPE (watercolour + acrylic)

MILA PARVAIS

2. EDITORIAL 3. MITCHELL ESSAY WINNER: BACTERIOPHAGES JAMES ISHERWOOD 11. PICASSO BLUE OR ROSE INSPIRED LANDSCAPE (watercolour + acrylic) ANONYMOUS 12. HOWARD ESSAY WINNER: OXFORD’S BENEFACTORS CINDY LYU 20. JOURNEY (mixed media on paper) MEHAKI CHAN 21 MITCHELL ESSAY RUNNER UP: RESOURCE ALLOCATION FORMULA ADAM CIRUS 32. OWL (ink and pastel on paper) AARYAN AGARWAL 33. HOWARD ESSAY RUNNER UP: IMPACT OF LATIN ON ENGLISH ANGELIQUE DAWSON 44. TROPICAL (digital media) MATTHEW JOHNSON 45. COCO’S JOURNEY (digital media) BLAKE IROW 46. HAIR (pencil on paper) LAWIN NAYIR 47. EXPIATION IN HARDY’S 1912 POEMS AND MCEWAN’S ATONEMENT THOMAS REA 58. MOVIES – BLACK SWAN/WHITE SWAN (pencil on paper) ROSALIE AITKEN 59. IF YOU WERE AN ENGINEER COMPETITION – EAST OF ENGLAND WINNER WILLIAM COHEN 61. PICASSO BLUE OR ROSE INSPIRED LANDSCAPE (watercolour + acrylic) AYAT MAHMOOD

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In this prize winning Mitchell essay, James (LVIS) explores whether Bacteriophages can be a replacement for antibiotics

The discovery and use of antibiotics in the 20th century has transformed medicine, saving millions of lives. Alexander Fleming’s 1928 discovery of penicillin and its mass production during World War II turned many bacterial infections into treatable illnesses. Before antibiotics, common infections such as pneumonia or meningitis were often fatal. However, overuse and misuse of antibiotics (for example, failing to complete a prescribed course) has allowed many bacteria to evolve resistance over time and develop into ‘superbugs’. Resistant ‘superbugs’ now spread rapidly through populations, leading to severe health threats.

Bacterial genes can be spread through the population via horizontal gene transfer; a complex mechanism explored later in this essay. Due to this method of gene sharing, new resistance can sweep through bacterial communities without antibiotic pressure. Bacteriophages are an abundant virus particle, specifically infecting bacteria. There is hope this precise targeting and the fact that the viruses evolve with the bacteria can be used and studied by microbiologists to help solve and prevent the increase in antibiotic resistance.

Bacteriophages (‘phages’) are viruses that specifically infect bacteria. Phages were discovered accidentally by Frederick William Twort, a bacteriologist working for the Brown Institute in London. Two years later, Félix d’Herelle independently discovered phages at the Pasteur Institute in Paris. When studying them, Félix d’Herelle coined the term bacteriophage, which literally translates to ‘bacteria eater’. The most surprising fact about phages is the sheer quantity of them, being the most prominent biological entity on the planet, with roughly 10^31 of these specialised viruses on earth. In comparison, that’s more than 1 trillion times the number of grains of sand on planet earth! Phages have multiple mechanisms to destroy

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bacteria, thereby controlling/reducing bacterial populations. The two main mechanisms include the lytic and lysogenic cycles.

Thanks to complex molecular biology tools, scientists have been able to examine the structure of phages. The main techniques used have been transmission electron microscopy (‘TEM’), cryo-electron microscopy (‘Cryo-EM’), X-ray crystallography, genetic studies and biochemical analysis. The first images of phages were produced in 1939 by TEM, while more recent scientific tools such as Cryo-EM has allowed scientists to analyse phage viruses on an atomic level. The structure of phages comprises of a capsid, containing either double stranded DNA, or single stranded RNA. But, as with all viruses, cannot have both DNA and RNA. The primary role of the protein-made capsid is to protect the genetic material, preventing any damage from the external environment. The role of the tail sheath is to contract and force the tail core into the host cell wall. The tail core provides a pathway for the genetic material to travel down and enter the host, to be incorporated into the bacterial nucleoid/plasmid.

The base plate is a multiprotein structure at the end of the tail sheath, which adheres the phage to the host and enables attachment. The spikes/tail fibres are responsible for penetrating the cell wall and binding to specific receptors on the host, thereby controlling host specificity. Some spikes will also contain lysosomes, a specialised vesicle containing hydrolytic/digestive enzymes to break down and degrade the bacterial peptidoglycan cell wall.

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Phages are highly specific particles, which makes them such an effective use to combat bacterial infections without disrupting the diverse range of ‘good’ bacteria in our bodies which we require to function.

However, this also means that a specific strain of bacteria must be identified correctly for phage therapy to be used effectively.

Without precise targeting and the cause of the infection, phage therapy has little use. The reason phages are highly specific is that they can only attach to complementary structures on the bacterial peptidoglycan cell wall. Phages most commonly bind to glycoproteins, pili and other complex molecular structures in the cell wall. Phages will then inject their viral material and adhere to the bacterial membrane.

Once the viral DNA is inside of the bacterial cell, it is incorporated into its DNA via two main mechanisms: transduction and integration.

Antibiotic resistance is not a new phenomenon by any means. As soon as antibiotics were introduced, resistant bacteria were already beginning to emerge due to the process of evolution by natural selection. Bacteria, like any other organism, will develop complex strategies to survive and reproduce. Darwin's book, published in 1858 on the ‘Theory of Evolution by Natural Selection’ explains how organisms adapt to their environment to survive and reproduce. An example of this begins with a simple mutation- A rare, spontaneous change in the bacterial DNA. The mutation leads to variation within the bacterial population. This mutation may be beneficial for the bacteria, such as decreasing the permeability of the peptidoglycan cell wall, thereby preventing drug entry into the cell. A selection pressure is applied to the population, killing the susceptible bacteria, while the resistant bacteria are

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effectively immune, so therefore survive. The bacteria reproduce by binary fission, a type of asexual reproduction specific to bacteria, where their offspring will inherit the advantageous genes of resistance required for survival. Over time, the resistance genes are shared among the entire population by further reproduction and methods of horizontal gene transfer.

Conjugation is the main type of horizontal gene transfer (‘HGT’). Specifically, conjugation is a process where the donor cell carries a special plasmid, called the fertility (‘F’) plasmid. The donor bacterial cell forms a sex pilus, bringing the two bacteria in close proximity for the transfer of the plasmid. A strand of the plasmid is transferred through the conjugation bridge to the recipient bacteria. Both cells then replicate the strand to reform the complete plasmid, and then both cells involved are further capable of carrying out conjugation with other bacteria, meaning the resistance can be acquired by the entire population.

After Flemings accidental discovery of penicillin in 1928, medicine seemed to be changed for life. Antibiotics are easy to use, manufacture and have a broad range of targeting- making them ideal for treatment. Due to the discovery of antibiotics, much less resources and research went into phage therapy. Phages were seen as highly complicated ultra-microbes, and at the time it didn’t make sense for time and money to be invested into the potential uses of the intricate viruses. Therefore, in many areas of the world, the research and equipment was diverted towards antibiotics. However, we now face the disaster of antibiotic resistance.

The rise of resistance is largely down to overuse, misuse and overprescription. The problem has been identified- bacterial resistance is becoming increasingly common and we need to fix it. However, the process of finding a sustainable solution for this problem is far more

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complicated. A 2016 UK study on antimicrobial resistance (AMR) predicted approximately 10 million deaths per year by 2050 if no action is taken to combat AMR.

Phages have two possible cycles for infection- lytic and lysogenic. In a lytic cycle, a phage attaches to a complementary receptor on the bacterial cell, inserts the viral DNA/RNA into the cell, and like a typical virus particle, hijacks the host cell machinery to mass produce phages. But, in a lytic cycle, it is important to acknowledge that the phage DNA remains entirely separate from the bacterial genome. When the bacterial cell bursts open, many phages are released out of the cell.

Alternatively, phages can undergo a lysogenic cycle, whereby the viral genome is incorporated into the bacterial plasmid, but the bacteria don’t immediately burst as it would do in the lytic cycle. The lysogenic cycle allows the host bacterial cell to live normally with the viral genome.

The lysogenic cycle means bacterial cells can replicate by binary fission, the method bacteria use to asexually reproduce, while the viral DNA remains dormant inside of the bacterial genome- enabling the viral genome to be passed down multiple generations. During periods of stress, such as prolonged UV light exposure, lysogenic bacteria will enter the lytic cycle.

This causes the bacteria to burst open (lyse) and release hundreds of phage particles which can continue the same cycle. Regarding phage therapy use, scientists are most interesting in the lytic cycle for combating AMR as this immediately destroys the infectious bacteria.

Each person receiving phage therapy would each require a unique ‘cocktail’ of phages to treat their infection. This is the reason phage therapy is describes as ‘personalised’- the dose is always individual and specific to meet that persons infection. In practice, the patient would

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need to give a sample of the pathogenic bacteria to be cultured. Then, the isolated bacteria are tested against a ‘cocktail’ of phages from a phage bank. When scientists have carefully chosen the correct cocktail of phages to target the bacteria, they are administered by varying ways depending on the type and location of the infection. Once administered, the phages will replicate inside of the bacterial host and burst open the bacterial cells via the lytic cycle pathway, causing a positive feedback loop where more phages are released to infect more bacteria. Once all the pathogenic bacteria have been destroyed by the phages, the phages are unable to reproduce or survive as viruses require a host cell to function. Phages are described to have a self-limiting property, meaning they naturally are removed from the body via excretion or the immune system once they have destroyed the infecting bacteria.

This picture is TEM image showing phages infecting a bacterial cell. The bar in the bottom right indicates the scale of the image, showing that the total size of a phage varies between 100 and 200nm. This image clearly shows the phages adsorbing to the bacterial wall, where it will then use the lytic or lysogenic cycle to infect the bacterium.

One of the most difficult challenges to overcome when developing new drugs is ensuring they are a safe option. Despite antibiotics being excellent at targeting bacteria, they have side effects to consider for the user, such as disrupting the gut microbiome and allergic reactions. On the other hand, Phage therapy is made a more appealing alternative to due to the safety studies conducted so far in clinical

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trials. As phage are no-toxic to all human cells, they can’t produce any direct side effects that would harm the patient. In clinical studies, patients treated by phage therapy have noted rare, minor side effects, showing a general trend of fewer side effects in comparison to antibiotics.

Bacteriophages have several key advantages over antibiotics, with the most important ones being their host specificity and their ability to co-evolve with the bacterium. Co-evolution is the process where two species evolve in response to each-other over time. In the context of bacteriophages and bacteria, the bacteria will mutate and evolve resistant to phages and the phages will develop new strategies to infect the resistant bacteria. For example, gram positive bacteria have a thick peptidoglycan cell wall, making it difficult for phages to penetrate. Some phages will produce specific enzymes such as endolysins to break into the tough cell wall and infect the bacterium.

Despite the many advantages phage therapy possesses, there are some challenges and limitations to consider before it is used globally. The fact that phages operate only on a specific host has huge benefits, as already explored in this essay, however this property of phages also comes with a challenge. The narrow host range of phages would mean an extremely accurate diagnosis of the bacterial strain causing the infection for the complementary phage to be selected and used in practise. Another challenge is using one specific phage to target the infecting bacteria, as the bacteria may mutate during the infection, causing the phage to stop working. However, microbiologists and bacteriologists have worked together to develop phage ‘cocktails’ that target the same bacterium in multiple ways, so even if the bacterium foes mutate, there are multiple phages that can combat this.

As phages are foreign virus particles, the human immune system is triggered, and an immune response is developed against the phages. This is a significant challenge as human antibodies

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may neutralise the phages before they reach the targeted bacteria, causing the phages to be removed from the body by phagocytosis or excretion before they have destroyed the pathogenic bacteria. Another challenge for phage therapy is the fact they can both spread and prevent antibiotic resistance. This is done by a process known as transduction where the phage may accidentally incorporate host bacterial resistant DNA instead of its own genomic DNA. When the phage infects the next bacterium, it will transfer these resistant genes, potentially spreading resistance. This is a major challenge as accidental biological processes could harm the reason phage therapy was being used in the first place.

In summary, bacteriophages offer many uses and will work best alongside antibiotics in order to combat the threat of antimicrobial resistance. Phage therapy shows many advantages, including specifically targeting one strain of bacteria, minimal disruption to the gut microbiome and the potential to treat antibiotic resistance. However, limitations such as immune clearance, the risk of horizontal gene transfer via transduction and the limited research, it is unlikely they will completely replace antibiotics. Instead, the most realistic future of phage therapy looks like a promising relationship, working alongside antibiotics to cure bacterial infections.

JAMES ISHERWOOD, LVITH

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ANONYMOUS IV

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In her prize winning Howard essay, Cindy (LVIL) explores whether Oxford should lower its admissions standards for the offspring of generous benefactors..

Some 24 years ago, Mr Philip Keevil—a City banker and long-time Oxford benefactor who had donated over £100,000 to the university over 15 years—was all set to cement his family’s legacy at Oxford. But fate (and Trinity College’s admissions office) had other plans: his second son was rejected, despite Mr Keevil’s substantial generosity (Cassidy, 2001). This anecdote highlights a persistent tension within elite university admissions: to what extent should financial contributions influence preferential access? The question centres on how universities allocate scarce educational resources, respond to financial incentives and balance equity against efficiency.

To explore these dimensions, this essay applies a macro-level PESTEL framework—Political, Economic, Social, Technological, Environmental and Legal—to evaluate the potential benefits and risks of such a policy and whether it aligns with Oxford’s values and long-term institutional interests. It also conducts a supply-and-demand analysis and considers what Oxford’s admissions criteria ought to prioritise, particularly in light of its current use of contextual admissions, before drawing a conclusion.

Oxford University has a long history of accepting donations from controversial figures— including slave traders, imperialists, fascists and arms dealers—drawing considerable political and ethical scrutiny (Bhutani, 2021). Yet such individuals have clearly passed the university’s internal review process, which asserts that it “takes legal, ethical and reputational issues into

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consideration 1” (SAGE, 2018). Despite sustained criticism of his business activities in postSoviet Russia and alleged ties to Vladimir Putin, Oxford accepted Leonard Blavatnik’s £75 million gift in 2010—then one of its largest donations—to found the School of Government (Watkins, 2024).

This leads to a deeper dilemma. Given Oxford’s long-standing entanglement with politically sensitive philanthropy, should it now extend admissions flexibility to such benefactors’ children? Before answering, it is essential to recognise that donor influence does not stop at financial support. International examples illustrate this risk: at George Mason University, the Koch Foundation was allowed to appoint two of five faculty selectors (Barakat, 2018).

Similarly, at the University of Pennsylvania, donor pressure over pro-Palestinian rallies prompted resignations and policy clarifications (Moody, 2023).

These examples underscore a broader political risk: large donations may invite subtle—or, at times, overt—external influence. Lowering entry requirements for major donors’ children could compromise Oxford’s institutional autonomy and political independence. The university must therefore remain vigilant when donations carry political, religious or ideological expectations.

From August 2021 to July 2022, Oxford received £249 million in philanthropic donations, just under 9% of its £2.78 billion annual budget (Oxford, 2022a; Oxford, 2022b). While there is no evidence that current donations influence admissions, the financial incentive is significant. In 1

Source: SAGE Publications. (2018). Ethical review in educational research: Challenges and concerns.

Ethics in Educational Research, 25(2), 112–125.

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the Ivy League, 4–5% of freshman admissions are linked to donations (Seigel, n.d.). Applying a 4.5% estimate to Oxford’s 2024 undergraduate population (12,375 students) suggests that over 550 places could be donor-influenced (Oxford, 2024). Assuming each donor contributed $500,000, this could generate an additional £206 million—over 80% of Oxford’s current annual philanthropic income.

Although this scenario remains speculative, rising global wealth and growing investment in education among the affluent may pressure Oxford to monetise admissions (Micelle, 2025).

If such a shift occurs, it could create a timely opportunity to expand its endowment. With global economic growth forecast at 3.3% and a projected 8.6% annual return, such an influx could grow to £3.07 billion over the next decade, significantly boosting Oxford’s financial future (International Monetary Fund, 2024).

Yet such a policy could send the symbolic message of “pay-to-enter,” discouraging meritbased donors and damaging Oxford’s fundraising capacity and financial resilience. Amid heightened criticism of institutional privilege, a tarnished meritocratic image may also deter top academic talent, jeopardising Oxford’s academic competitiveness. The short-term financial gains from preferential admissions must therefore be weighed carefully against these potential long-term economic costs.

Oxford currently ranks 4th globally, with Harvard remaining 5th despite high-profile donation controversies (QS, 2025). Harvard’s continued global stature exemplifies the symbiotic relationship between philanthropic capital and scholarly excellence—a pattern observed across 75% of the top 20 US institutions (Wood, 2025). Moreover, rejecting donations based

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on hypothetical future controversies may induce strategic indecision, as universities cannot foresee the long-term reputational trajectories of alumni or donors. Examples include Yahya Jammeh’s post-dictatorship notoriety and Mikheil Saakashvili’s corruption downfall (Pearson, 2014).

Yet Oxford’s prestige ecosystem faces a graver social peril: weakening social mobility and educational equity, ultimately challenging its signalling function. In recent years, Oxford has invested substantial effort in widening participation through contextual admissions, targeted outreach, and scholarship programmes (Oxford, 2020). Introducing preferential treatment for donor heirs could be perceived as compromising these initiatives, entrenching structural advantages and accelerating educational aristocratisation, where wealth is layered atop existing legacy networks.

According to Spence’s signalling model, an Oxford degree certifies unobservable productivity through rigorous selection (Hopkins, 2005). Admitting donor-affiliated under-performers— even marginally—dilutes this credential by reducing signalling costs for high-wealth, lowability applicants. Once employers begin to suspect that degrees are “purchased” rather than “earned,” they may rationally discount any Oxford graduate’s competence, which reduces the return on investment for every degree holder. For high-ability students from underrepresented backgrounds who rely on that signalling power, this cascade would diminish the degree’s human capital value and impair the university’s role as a vehicle for upward mobility.

Dropout risk adds a further concern. While Oxford’s 0.9% attrition rate (one-sixth of the UK average) suggests institutional resilience, admitting under-qualified cohorts carries hidden

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costs (Kelly, 2022). US data show that students in the bottom SAT quintile (<990) face a 62.5% attrition rate (Westrick et al., 2022). Though scaling this to Oxford’s hypothetical 4.5% donor cohort implies a negligible systemic impact, the true cost is distributional injustice: every seat sold to an underprepared, economically advantaged applicant represents a lost opportunity for a deserving one whose life prospects hinge on access.

Oxford’s vulnerability to research-related security risks is not new. During the Cold War, the university was implicated in high-profile espionage cases involving KGB infiltration (Walker, 1992). Similar risks remain today.

Since 2017, Oxford has accepted over £99 million in donations from China-linked individuals and entities, supporting initiatives such as the Dickson Poon China Centre and more than 20 other affiliated projects (Cherwell Investigations, 2024). While international collaboration is essential to technological advancement, approximately 38% of these donors are linked to state-owned enterprises or sanctioned institutions, such as Sichuan University, which reportedly collaborates with the People’s Liberation Army (Tabba, 2025). Transparency issues also persist: some donor acknowledgment pages remain blocked from mainland China.

Preferential admissions for donors’ children could create privileged pathways into sensitive STEM programmes or cyber research hubs, increasing the risk of “trusted insider” threats. The China Scholarship Council currently funds over 640 PhDs in the UK, and around 15% of Chinese students in the US, many under limited vetting procedures (UK-China Transparency, 2023; Molloy & Johnson, 2025). These concerns are further compounded by Oxford’s collaborations with high-risk partners such as Huawei (Chen, 2019; DCMS, 2022).

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Unlike traditional espionage, this influence is not stolen through covert operations but openly purchased through philanthropy. Donations fund research infrastructure, while admissions flexibility enables its potential exploitation. Upholding rigorous admissions standards is therefore not just a matter of academic integrity but also a security necessity.

Donors may attach legal stipulations to their contributions. In Lindmark v. St. John’s University, US courts held that university donations are typically treated as charitable gifts (Philanthropy Roundtable, 2021). However, in Robertson v. Princeton University, the court ordered a $100 million repayment after the university failed to honour donor intent (Philanthropy Roundtable, 2021). Legal enforceability may arise when institutional actions diverge sharply from stated donor expectations.

Should Oxford lower its admissions standards for donor families, it may invite more explicit assumptions regarding admissions outcomes. Over time, this could blur the line between philanthropic support and contractual obligation, thereby increasing legal exposure and constraining institutional autonomy.

Oxford’s Donor Charter emphasizes respect for donor wishes while maintaining operational flexibility (Oxford, n.d.a). Its donor stewardship programme further manages expectations and ensures alignment (Oxford University Endowment Management, 2024). To preserve both legal defensibility and institutional sovereignty, the university must maintain strict boundaries between admissions policy and fundraising strategy.

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Donations have funded several of Oxford’s environmental innovations. From the Login5 Foundation’s support for precision agriculture to breakthroughs in photovoltaic efficiency, philanthropic funding has accelerated progress towards the university’s 2035 net-zero carbon emissions target and biodiversity net gain (Oxford, 2025). Yet funding remains a significant constraint, particularly as European universities frequently cite financial shortages as a primary barrier to environmental progress, suggesting a clear rationale for external support (Havergal, 2021).

However, relaxing admissions standards for “green donors” risks institutionalised greenwashing. Admitting a fossil fuel heiress with subpar academic credentials while her family funds carbon-capture research would undermine the integrity of Oxford’s climate commitments.

Ethical alignment is possible, as shown by the R21/Matrix-M vaccine lab, where philanthropy serves the public good without compromising admissions standards (Oxford, 2021). The imperative is clear: environmental urgency must not be used as leverage to dilute academic standards.

With undergraduate applications rising 21% from 19,000 to over 23,000 against fixed placements at around 3,700 since 2015, Oxford faces classic scarcity pressure (Oxford, 2020; Leland, 2025). Yet domestic tuition caps (£9,535/per year) and international student policy limits (now 43% of students) constrain revenue solutions (Oxford, n.d.b; Bolton & Gower, 2024). With supply relatively fixed and demand rising, economic theory suggests the potential

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to raise the “price” of admission. Treating admissions as a pricing mechanism, however, misapplies microeconomic theory: unlike commodities, academic seats derive their value from exclusivity of merit, not exchange efficiency.

The Operation Varsity Blues scandal revealed how wealthy families exploited fraudulent schemes to secure admission for under-qualified students (US Department of Justice, 2019).

A formalised donation-for-access framework may seem to redirect this persistent demand into a more regulated mechanism. In SFFA v. Harvard, families donating over $10 million saw a ninefold increase in admissions odds; at Stanford, a $500,000 gift may qualify a candidate as a “development case,” prompting relaxed standards (Parapadakis, 2023).

If Oxford must accommodate philanthropic interest, it should do so without compromising merit. One safeguard is to shield admissions panels from donor visibility, for example by partially anonymising applicant ties. Where donor-linked considerations are introduced, they must be narrowly applied to a small proportion of cases and subject to expiry. To ensure such generosity benefits the wider student body, all contributions should be ring-fenced for needblind financial aid. Crucially, any student admitted via this route must adhere to subjectaverage thresholds and maintain a minimum GPA after their first year to retain enrolment.

Such a model, driven by transparency and grounded in academic criteria, may offer a workable path forward: one that preserves Oxford’s integrity while channeling generosity into public good.

Oxford’s admissions policy sits at the intersection of competing priorities: academic merit, institutional independence, financial sustainability and social equity. As this essay’s PESTEL

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analysis has shown, lowering standards for donor families may yield short-term gains but risks systemic vulnerabilities across multiple dimensions.

Total resistance to philanthropic interest may be idealistic, but uncritical accommodation would be economically myopic. While addressing the financial realities of global higher education, Oxford must resist commodifying its admissions gate. The £206 million annual allure pales against the existential cost: turning Dominus illuminatio mea from a beacon of wisdom to a cheque written by a rich dad.

CINDY LYU, LVI

MEHAKI CHAN MVI

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Adam (LVIth L) was named runner up in the closely contested Mitchell essay prize competition. In this piece, he explores equitable solutions to resource allocations.

Resource allocation is a detrimental problem in the modern world and is part of the large economic problem faced by every country. Resource allocation in every economy is inefficient and wasteful of the finite and scare materials we have. It is the process of distributing limited resources across competing regions in a way that balances the three E’s. Efficiency, equity and effectiveness. In this essay, I will discuss how the allocation of resources can be made more efficient, with minimal waste of resources and scarce materials in the situation of an emergency, perhaps due to a natural hazard or emergency healthcare needs.

Firstly, to optimise resource allocation, we must derive the factors that increase allocation in a certain region. Currently, the most significant factor is population size. Population size will determine the area that should be allocated the most resources, as larger populations require more resources to sustain and maintain a good standard of living. This can be measured through a consensus or by creating a population model to calculate an approximation of people in a region of need. However, it is important to note that urgency is imperative, as situational needs can affect priority of a region. For example, an earthquake in region 1 with multiple road blockages requires more resources compared to another region with a car crash. It may be wasteful to send multiple ambulances to the region with the car crash, whereas sending more help to a region with an earthquake would be more beneficial as a greater number of people may have been affected. Resource allocation can be measured by severity indices. These are tools or scores that measure how critically or urgently a region needs a resource. Efficiency refers to directing resources where they are more likely to make

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a more substantial impact. The method used for this is cost effectiveness analysis, which is used to compare the costs and outcomes of different options to determine which provides the best results for the least cost. This will tell us how efficient resources are being used to achieve a specific goal. Resources can be allocated quicker in regions that are closer to the origin of the resource, this is called accessibility. This variable will impact how much will be allocated to each region based on how efficiently the resources can be transported, whether this is an emergency or long term. We can measure this through analysis of the terrain; if it’s in a mountainous area or in a desert.

Next, we must find the main factors that decrease resource allocation in a certain region. As the government must spend money on these resources and to transport them as well, if it’s not used efficiently then it is seen as wasteful expenditure. Therefore, cost can be derived as a big factor. Cost plays a big role in resource allocation as it ensures that resources are distributed efficiently within budgetary limits. The cost can be measured in several ways including delivery costs, labour costs and material costs. These are just the expenses of transporting, working and the resources themselves. Risk is a critical factor that includes challenges or external shocks that may blockade successful usage of resources. By including risk as a factor in decision making, fewer resources are allocated to regions of the likelihood of failure or when inefficiency is higher. This helps minimise waste and ensure that resources can be utilised in the most effective way possible to achieve the intended outcome.

After establishing the main factors, we must now generate a number for each and their respective ranges. For each of these factors, a letter will represent them in the subsequent formulae.

1) Total Population size across all regions: N

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2) Urgency: U 3) Efficiency: E 4) Accessibility: A 5) Cost: C 6) Risk: D 7) Total resources: R 8) Region i population size: 𝑁𝑁𝑖𝑖

We have generated an initial formula that can be added to throughout this essay:

𝑅𝑅 =

𝑁𝑁 . 𝑈𝑈 . 𝐸𝐸 . 𝐴𝐴 𝐶𝐶 . 𝐷𝐷

We can create a number by using a range for each component: 1) 0 < 𝑁𝑁𝑖𝑖 ≤ 𝑁𝑁 , where N is the total population across all regions

2) 0 ≤ U ≤ 1 , where 0 is no urgency and 1 is maximum urgency

3) 0 ≤ E ≤ 1 , where 0 is no efficiency and 1 is maximum efficiency 4) 0 ≤ 𝐴𝐴 ≤ 1 , where 0 is inaccessible and 1 is fully accessible 5) 0 ≤ 𝐶𝐶

6) 0 ≤ 𝐷𝐷 ≤ 2 , where 0 is no risk and 2 is maximum risk

WHY DO THESE RANGES WORK? Normalised 0-1 ranges allow all the components to be compared on the same scale, making calculations fairer and more proportional. In addition, the data can be adjusted or scaled to suit specific context or information. Flexibility is vital as it means the formula and its

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components can adapt to scenarios based on available information. Values and ranges reflect real life metrics that ensure decisions are not biased and are data driven.

HOW CAN WE IMPROVE OUR FORMULA? To achieve the most accuracy and a fairer result, we can incorporate smaller factors that alter the formula. Following this, we will now adapt the formula to include all possible improvements thus resulting in a final formula.

The first component to add to our formula is the total amount of resources multiplied by the fraction dedicated to a region. This can be:

𝑛𝑛

� 𝑅𝑅𝑖𝑖 𝑖𝑖=1

Where i is the resources for the particular region and n is the number of regions. This summation tells us the total resources as all the possible resources that can be allocated to all regions added together is the total resources available.

We can include variability which captures fluctuations in needs over time. This is vital for our formula, as it adds the factor of fluctuating needs for regions over time; a regions needs are rarely static and can change due to population changes or external shocks, such as natural disasters. This is important as it accounts for dynamic needs, real time responsiveness and efficiency. This can be measured by the statistical variance in the spread or fluctuation of resource needs over a time period. A higher variance represents more unpredictable needs which may result in additional resources allocated as a buffer or in the case of emergencies.

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Variance: 𝜎𝜎 2

To maintain consistency throughout the formula we will continue to use the range of: 0 ≤ 𝜎𝜎 2 ≤ 1 We can use integration to sum up the effects of the factors over a range. In this case it captures the total contribution of variables that vary continuously. We can use integration as it allows us to account for the entire cumulative impact rather than just isolated points. If you are trying to figure out how much food a village needs over a week, you don’t look at one day’s need, you add up the food needed for each day of the week. Integration does this by combining the small amounts over a range (the week) to find the total. This makes sure we are considering everything and not only one moment. 𝑏𝑏

� 𝑑𝑑𝑑𝑑

𝑎𝑎

Partial derivatives. This helps measure how specific factor fluctuations change in response to a particular variable; time, while keeping other factors constant. We use this as resource needs change dynamically due to evolving conditions, emergencies or shifting risks. Partial derivatives allow the formula to respond to these changes by showing the rate of change of a variable. The partial derivatives time unit will be in months, so if the rate of change per month is 20 then by the end of the year, we will have 240 added on. 𝜕𝜕 𝜕𝜕𝜕𝜕

𝜕𝜕𝑅𝑅

If 𝑅𝑅𝑖𝑖 (𝑡𝑡) represents resource allocation over time, 𝜕𝜕𝜕𝜕𝑖𝑖 shows how the allocation is changing at any given moment. This enables the system to adapt in real time.

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𝜕𝜕𝜕𝜕

E.g. a natural disaster hits a region and (R) needs an increase. 𝜕𝜕𝜕𝜕 > 0 indicates that 𝜕𝜕𝜕𝜕

allocation must increase. Once the disaster is contained, 𝜕𝜕𝜕𝜕 < 0, shows that resources can

be scaled back.

To work this out we can create two formulas, a linear and exponential: Linear formula: 𝑛𝑛

𝑅𝑅𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡 (𝑡𝑡) = � 𝑅𝑅𝑖𝑖 + ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑜𝑜 𝑚𝑚𝑚𝑚𝑚𝑚ℎ 𝑡𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑒 𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟 𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖 𝑒𝑒𝑒𝑒𝑒𝑒ℎ 𝑚𝑚𝑚𝑚𝑚𝑚𝑚𝑚ℎ 𝑖𝑖=1

This could be labelled as 𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎 where 𝑎𝑎 is the proportional increase to 𝑡𝑡 in months.

1 ≤ 𝑎𝑎

1 ≤ 𝑡𝑡 ≤ 12

This formula is for when resources grow per month.

Exponential formula: 𝑛𝑛

Where:

𝑅𝑅𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡 (𝑡𝑡) = � 𝑅𝑅𝑖𝑖 × ℇ−𝑟𝑟%𝑡𝑡 𝑖𝑖=1

0% ≤ 𝑟𝑟 ≤ 100% Then if we differentiate 𝑅𝑅𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡 (𝑡𝑡) with respect to 𝑡𝑡:

𝜕𝜕 (𝑡𝑡) = ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑜𝑜 𝑚𝑚𝑚𝑚𝑚𝑚ℎ 𝑡𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑒 𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟 𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖 𝑏𝑏𝑏𝑏 𝑅𝑅 𝜕𝜕𝜕𝜕 𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡 𝜕𝜕 (𝑡𝑡) = −𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟 . 𝑅𝑅𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡 (𝑡𝑡) 𝑅𝑅 𝜕𝜕𝜕𝜕 𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡

26

Our final formula with everything in it is: 𝑛𝑛

𝑛𝑛

𝒏𝒏

𝑖𝑖=1

𝒊𝒊=𝟏𝟏

𝑁𝑁(𝑥𝑥, 𝑡𝑡) . 𝑈𝑈(𝑥𝑥, 𝑡𝑡) . 𝐸𝐸(𝑥𝑥, 𝑡𝑡) . 𝐴𝐴(𝑥𝑥, 𝑡𝑡) . 𝜎𝜎 2 (𝑥𝑥, 𝑡𝑡) 𝜕𝜕 𝑅𝑅𝑖𝑖 (𝑡𝑡) = [� 𝑑𝑑𝑑𝑑] × (�(𝑅𝑅𝑖𝑖 ) + � 𝑹𝑹𝒊𝒊 ) 𝜕𝜕𝜕𝜕 𝐶𝐶(𝑥𝑥, 𝑡𝑡) . 𝐷𝐷(𝑥𝑥, 𝑡𝑡) 1

We can put this into a word formula to understand what the formula is calculating: 𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟 𝑛𝑛𝑛𝑛𝑛𝑛𝑛𝑛𝑛𝑛𝑛𝑛 𝑝𝑝𝑝𝑝𝑝𝑝 𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟 =

𝑛𝑛𝑛𝑛𝑛𝑛𝑛𝑛 × 𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖 𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓 × 𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎 𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓 𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓𝑓 𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎 𝑣𝑣𝑣𝑣𝑣𝑣𝑣𝑣𝑣𝑣𝑣𝑣𝑣𝑣𝑣𝑣𝑣𝑣𝑣𝑣𝑣𝑣 𝑐𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎 𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎 𝑐𝑐𝑐𝑐𝑐𝑐𝑐𝑐𝑐𝑐

USING THE FORMULA:

STEP 1: SETTING UP THE INTERGRAL The integral term calculates the contribution of each region to the total resources based on the factors provided:

REGIO

POPULATIO

URGENC

EFFICEINC

ACCESSIBILIT VARIABILIT

COST

RIS

N

N SIZE (N)

Y

Y

Y

Y

(C)

K

(U)

(E)

(A)

(𝜎𝜎 2 )

0.8

1.0

0.9

0.7

(x) 1

10

(D) 100,00

1.2

0 2

15

0.9

0.8

0.7

0.6

200,00

1.0

0 3

20

1.0

0.7

0.6

0.8

300,00 0

3

27

𝑛𝑛 = 3

� 𝑅𝑅𝑖𝑖 = 100 𝑖𝑖=1

0.9

3

3

3

𝑖𝑖=1

𝑖𝑖=1

𝑁𝑁(𝑥𝑥, 𝑡𝑡) . 𝑈𝑈(𝑥𝑥, 𝑡𝑡) . 𝐸𝐸(𝑥𝑥, 𝑡𝑡) . 𝐴𝐴(𝑥𝑥, 𝑡𝑡) . 𝜎𝜎 2 (𝑥𝑥, 𝑡𝑡) 𝜕𝜕 𝑅𝑅𝑖𝑖 (𝑡𝑡) = [� 𝑑𝑑𝑑𝑑] . (� 𝑅𝑅𝑖𝑖 + � 𝑅𝑅𝑖𝑖 ) 𝐶𝐶(𝑥𝑥, 𝑡𝑡) . 𝐷𝐷(𝑥𝑥, 𝑡𝑡) 𝜕𝜕𝜕𝜕 1 3

� 0.000042 + 0.00002268 + 0.00002489 = 0.00008957 1

STEP 2: SOLVING THE INTERGRAL

𝑅𝑅1 + 𝑅𝑅2 + 𝑅𝑅3 = 1

3

� (0.00008957)𝑑𝑑𝑑𝑑 = 0.00017914 1

𝑅𝑅1 × 0.00017914 =

21 250000

𝑅𝑅2 × 0.00017914 = 0.00004536 𝑅𝑅3 × 0.00017914 = 0.00004978

Now we can deduce fractions for which each region will receive the part of total resources. 𝑅𝑅1 =

21 ÷ 0.00017914 250000

𝑅𝑅2 =

4200

Region 1: 8957

𝑅𝑅3 =

0.00004536 0.00017914 0.00004978 0.00017914

2268

Region 2:8957 2489

Region 3:8957

STEP 3: INCORPORATE THE PARTIAL DERIVATIVE Let’s assume the total resources are increasing linearly at a rate of 10 units per month (Δ𝑅𝑅 = 10). 𝜕𝜕

So, 𝜕𝜕𝜕𝜕 × ∑3𝑖𝑖=1 𝑅𝑅𝑖𝑖 = 10

28

𝑛𝑛

𝑛𝑛

𝑖𝑖=1

𝑖𝑖=1

𝜕𝜕 𝑅𝑅𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡 (𝑡𝑡) = � 𝑅𝑅𝑖𝑖 + � 𝑅𝑅𝑖𝑖 𝜕𝜕𝜕𝜕

Rewriting this in words to make it simpler:

𝑅𝑅𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡 (𝑡𝑡) = 𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡 𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟 𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎 + 𝑡𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑒 𝑐𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎𝑎 𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖 𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡𝑡 𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟 𝑒𝑒𝑒𝑒𝑒𝑒𝑒𝑒𝑒𝑒 𝑚𝑚𝑚𝑚𝑚𝑚𝑚𝑚ℎ.

3

3

𝑖𝑖=1

𝑖𝑖=1

𝜕𝜕 𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖𝑖 𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟𝑟 × ( � 𝑅𝑅𝑖𝑖 + � 𝑅𝑅𝑖𝑖 ) 𝜕𝜕𝜕𝜕

If we say that the time period is one month as there will be a need for Instant resources and long-term resources, then:

3

3

𝑖𝑖=1

𝑖𝑖=1

𝜕𝜕 � 𝑅𝑅𝑖𝑖 + � 𝑅𝑅𝑖𝑖 = 110 𝜕𝜕𝜕𝜕 Finally, with each integral result we can multiply the total available resources with that, to get the total amount of resources per region.

𝑅𝑅1 (𝑡𝑡) =

4200 × 110 = 51.57977001 8957

𝑅𝑅3 (𝑡𝑡) =

2489 × 110 = 30.56715418 8957

𝑅𝑅2 (𝑡𝑡) =

2268 × 110 = 27.85307581 8957

Now we can round the numbers as we can’t have 30.56 cars or food. 𝑅𝑅1 (𝑡𝑡) = 52

𝑅𝑅2 (𝑡𝑡) = 28 𝑅𝑅3 (𝑡𝑡) = 31

We must adjust the values so they all add up to the total, so:

29

𝑅𝑅1 (𝑡𝑡) = 51

𝑅𝑅2 (𝑡𝑡) = 28

𝑅𝑅3 (𝑡𝑡) = 31 31+28+51=110

WHY IS MAKING A FORMULA FOR FAIR RESOURCE ALLOCATION RELEVANT FOR REAL WORLD APPLICATIONS? Resource allocation is mostly inefficient and as a result, causes wastage. This isn’t sustainable and could lead to shortages in the future. Creating a formula provides a fair and statistical approach based on numbers; this negates unconscious bias and any other factors affecting fairer decision making. Money, time, workforce and resources are often limited, a formula can help optimise their distribution and where they will make the most significant impact.

This ensures there is the least amount of waste and the maximal efficiency. There is inequality in the allocation of resources, a formula helps incorporate factors such as population size, urgency, and priority to address the disparities between unequal regions or groups. This topic is mainly affected by cost and risk; factoring these into our formula supports complex decision making which helps in consistency and providing clarity. Dynamic fluctuating situations require flexible approaches to create a solution; a formula allows fluctuating data allowing decisions to be made quicker. By leveraging measurable data and balancing competing priorities, these formulas ensure ethical and impactful resource distribution, promoting sustainable and equitable outcomes across various fields.

30

WHAT RESOURCES DOES THIS FORMULA APPLY TO AND WHAT DOES IT NOT APPLY TO? This formula only works for resources that are: quantifiable and divisible. Some examples are funding, medical supplies and food aid. These resources can be allocated in measurable numbers, allowing proportional distribution. It also works for resources that are costly or difficult to transport to different regions, requiring prioritisation based on accessibility, costefficiency and urgency. The formula does not apply to non-quantifiable resources. Some examples are electricity, water and access to clean air. In times of emergencies, it is largely about having a multitude of resources available rather than a specific amount. This makes these unquantifiable and therefore doesn’t apply to the formula.

To conclude “generating a formula for fair resource allocation” allows resources to be distributed efficiently, ethically, and proportionally in emergencies. The hardest factors by far to measure are urgency and efficiency due to it being a nonphysical thing. By using measurable factors such as urgency, efficiency, cost and risk, and applying tools such as integration and partial derivatives, the formula adapts to changing needs over time. This structured approach reduces waste, improves impact, and supports more equal, data-driven decision-making across regions.

ADAM CIRUS, LVI

31

AARYAN AGARWAL MVI

32

Angelique was a highly commended runner up in the Howard essay prize. In this piece she explores whether writing in the English language would be enriched if more writers had studied Latin.

For over a millennium, Latin formed the backbone of Western education. From the candlelit monastic schools of the Middle Ages to the silk-robed scholars of Renaissance humanism, students parsed Cicero’s linguistic labyrinths and memorised Virgil’s formidable footfalls rarely without stumbling. Even into the twentieth century, Latin remained ubiquitous in English secondary schools. Yet in the past fifty years its place has been eroded by an emphasis on modern languages, STEM subjects, and ‘communicative’ pedagogies that prioritise spoken fluency over grammatical analysis. Given Latin’s proven educational impact, it is essential that Latin continues to be taught because an understanding of even elementary Latin sharpens linguistic insight, enriches syntactic flexibility, and enhances intertextual craftsmanship, ultimately making English prose measurably richer.

Recent initiatives, such as the UK’s Latin Excellence Programme (launched 2022), aimed to reverse the trend of Latin decline; several diocesan trusts taught Latin from ages seven to eleven, reporting gains not only in literacy but in science and history attainment 2. Still, Latin remains largely optional, and its advocates warn that abandoning it risks losing more than vocabulary: its absence unpicks the very tapestry of how we once approached language, structure and narrative.

2 (Times, 2024)

33

Rote Learning and Syntactic Discipline Classical Latin instruction traditionally began with drilling paradigms: first- and seconddeclension nouns, four conjugations of verbs, and the six chief parts of irregulars. Early studies (Baca, Mandel & Neshat 1979) found that pupils who sustained three years of Latin study outperformed peers on English reading and vocabulary tests – improving at approximately twice the expected rate 3.

Parsing Latin sentences, which routinely nest multiple subordinate clauses, trains students to hold complex syntactic structures in working memory. As a result, those trained in Latin often demonstrate superior abilities in sentence‐level analysis and in crafting periodic prose sentences that build through clauses before delivering the main verb or idea at the end, a hallmark of classical rhetoric.

Cognitive and Verbal Gains A meta-analysis of hundreds of students showed that while Latin is not unique in boosting general cognitive scores compared to other languages, it does yield significantly greater gains in English vocabulary and grammatical awareness, likely because two-thirds of English words derive from Latin roots2. This metalinguistic awareness is like slipping on a pair of X-ray glasses while reading; suddenly, meanings shimmer beneath the surface. Many modern pedagogues argue that this metalinguistic insight underpins better reading comprehension and more precise writing in one’s native tongue.

3 (Holliday, 2012)

34

Case Study (1): J. R. R. Tolkien’s Philological Imagination J. R. R. Tolkien (Anglo-Saxon professor and expert in Latin, Greek, Gothic, and Old Norse) infused his fiction with structural and lexical insights from classical languages. In his famed fictional language “High Elvish” (Quenya) used extensively in Lord of the Rings, Tolkien modelled inflectional patterns on Latin and Finnish; his internal consistency mirrors the grammatical rigour he taught at Oxford 4. Quenya has noun cases, verb conjugations, and inflections – all complex grammatical structures which resemble Latin. Furthermore, the elegance and musicality of Quenya were consciously crafted to reflect the ‘noble’ feel of classical languages such as Latin and Greek. His English prose similarly displays Latin-inspired periodicity. Consider the balanced

sentence

in

The

Fellowship of

the

Ring:

“One by one, our lives he unravels, until - at last - we turn to face him.”

Here, clauses accumulate detail before a climactic “turn to face him,” evoking the delayedverb effect prized by Cicero and Quintilian. Tolkien didn’t just invent a fantasy language – he built a structured linguistic system inspired by Latin’s precision and cultural depth. This is a fascinating demonstration of how a deep knowledge of Latin can inform world-building, narrative tone, and even character development in imaginative writing.

Case Study (2): Vladimir Nabokov’s Etymological Precision Although Russian-born, Nabokov received a classical education steeped in Latin and French.

In his memoir Speak, Memory, Nabokov recalls learning Latin declensions by age seven, and developing an early fascination with etymology and structure. His novels and essays demonstrate an almost obsessive attention to root meanings, as he famously refused to let a

4 (Cornwell, 2011)

35

single word drift ‘accidentally’. He was notoriously exacting about his word choice, once remarking: “my head swims with the riches of words, my pen shudders when it must choose”.

Nabokov himself credits this meticulous approach to word-formation to his Latin education.

As he explains in Strong Opinions (1973): “For my nymphet I needed a diminutive with a lyrical lilt to it…The suffix “-ita” has a lot of Latin tenderness, and this I required too. Hence: Lolita.” 5 This obsession with precision, etymology, and subtle shades of meaning is deeply rooted in classical training. Latin, with its strict grammatical rules and clear logic, taught Nabokov to treat language as a mathematical system, where each part must be perfectly placed for maximum effect. In Nabokov’s celebrated and influential books Pale Fire and Ada, puns and narrative structures hinge on Latin-derived cognates, rewarding readers attuned to their classical lineage 6. Nabokov’s teaching at Cornell also emphasised ‘word roots as windows’ into nuance, mirroring Latin memorisation exercises where students learned dozens of cognate families at a time, thus enriching their English vocabulary and stylistic options.

Nabokov’s prose glints like a mosaic: every word a tessera, every sentence an ornate pattern visible only through classical eyes. Nabokov’s writings demonstrate that Latin is not just a rigid academic exercise, but it can actively enhance creative writing. His canon highlights that writers with classical training often: write with more syntactic and structural control, embed layers of hidden meaning through etymological awareness, and use rhetorical techniques from Latin literature to construct complex narratives.

5 (Nabokov, 1973) 6 (Boyd, 1991)

36

Intertextuality: Ancient Techniques in Modern Fiction In literature, intertextuality is defined by the ways in which one text refers to, echoes, or builds upon another. This can be direct (such as quoting a line from Shakespeare), or subtle (for example, borrowing a plot structure, myth, or character type from other works). The term was coined by the literary theorist Julia Kristeva in the 1960s, building on the work of Mikhail Bakhtin. Kristeva argued that no text is completely original, and instead every text is woven from a tessellation of references to other texts. This concept is not a modern invention - in fact, classical authors were among its earliest pioneers. An example of this is in Virgil’s Aeneid (written circa 29-19 BCE), which is deliberately inspired by two Homeric epics. Book 1-6 of the Aeneid mirror Homer’s Odyssey: Aeneas’ encounter with Dido parallels Odysseus’ temptation

by Calypso, alongside the shared themes of the fall of Troy, tumultuous storms, and divine obstacles.

These examples of intertextuality are most notably described in Book 4, in which Queen Dido of Carthage falls in love with Aeneas, who is destined to leave her to found Rome. Despite her pleas, Aeneas departs, obeying the gods’ command. Heartbroken, Dido curses him and takes her own life, setting in motion political consequences that foreshadow future wars. Virgil’s portrayal of Dido echoes Homer’s Odyssey, where the goddess Calypso shelters a hero on her island, falling in love with him and attempting to delay his journey. Odysseus is reminded by the gods of his destiny and leaves. Although Calypso laments his departure, she ultimately accepts the gods’ will and lets him go. Both Dido and Calypso are powerful female figures who temporarily halt the hero’s journey through emotional entanglement. This suggests that Virgil isn’t just copying, but rather using Homer as a literary template, which he transforms to serve

37

Rome’s national myth. In other words, the Aeneid doesn’t plagiarise Homer - it duets with him, sometimes in harmony, sometimes in discord.

Virgil’s mastery of intertextuality stemmed from his deep immersion in Greek literature. His work highlights the value of recognising intertextual patterns and classical techniques such as mirroring, inversion, and foreshadowing in shaping how stories evolve and enriching modern fiction. Many contemporary writers continue this practice. In Penelopiad (2005) 7, Margaret Atwood retells the Odyssey from Penelope’s viewpoint and Jeanette Winterson reimagines the story of Atlas in Weight. 8 Yet some scholars note that much of modern “innovation” in this genre derives from recombining these ancient templates rather than inventing wholly new narrative strategies9. A grounding in classical intertextual techniques equips authors to craft more deliberate and nuanced allusions, weaving together refrains, motifs, and rhetorical patterns (such as anaphora or chiasmus) with an awareness of their enduring resonance across centuries.

If modern authors were schooled in Latin, as Virgil was in Greek, they might approach storytelling with greater depth, seeing literature not merely as personal expression, but as a dialogue with the past, shaped by memory, tradition, and transformation.

Word Order and Poetic Emphasis Latin’s notoriously flexible word order offers writers an invaluable tool for shading emphasis and surprise, a technique known in Latin as hyperbaton. By interposing modifiers between nouns and their qualifiers or delaying the main verb, poets like Virgil and Catullus could force

7 (Atwood, 2005)

8 (Winterson, 2005)

9 (Matoušková, n.d.)

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readers to linger on a phrase before delivering its emotional payoff: Virgil’s “saevae memorem Iūnōnis ob īram” (on account of the mindful anger of cruel Juno) scatters its adjectives and nouns so that the reader must assemble them, heightening the sense of Juno’s “mindful anger,” while Catullus surrounds his verb with two noun phrases to underscore singular devotion, remarking “quam Catullus unam / plus quam se atque suos amavit omnes” (whom alone Catullus loved more than himself and all his own). Through Catullus’ use of two noun phrases surrounding the verb ‘amavit’ (loved), he draws attention to the phrase ‘whom alone’ and underscores Catullus’ exceptional affection.

Although modern English syntax is more rigid, poets have long borrowed the tactic of inversion to create emphasis and shape meaning. For example, in T.S. Eliot’s The Waste Land, the line “In the room the women come and go / Talking of Michelangelo” inverts the expected order; normally, one would say ‘The women come and go in the room, talking of Michelangelo.’ By placing the setting first, Eliot slows the rhythm and draws immediate attention to the confined space, creating a hypnotic atmosphere that sets the tone for the scene. Similarly, Edgar Allan Poe’s The Raven begins with the line “Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,” which rearranges the subject and verb from the more conventional ‘I stood there long, peering deep into that darkness, wondering and fearing.’ This inversion delays the narrator’s presence, heightening suspense and reflecting his fearful, cautious gaze. Both examples illustrate how inversion, much like Latin’s hyperbaton, allows poets to foreground particular images or emotions, thus enriching the reader’s experience.

Experimental studies suggest that students trained in Latin's emphasis-through-placement are not only more willing, but also more adept, at reordering adverbial phrases and fronting key words in English. This produces sentences that feel more dynamic and precisely tuned to

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their thematic core. For instance, a study by Sanz et al. (2012) 10involved participants receiving explicit instruction in Latin grammar, focusing on case functions and thematic roles. The research found that Latin instruction significantly improved participants' understanding of grammatical structures, which in turn enhanced their ability to manipulate sentence elements and apply these skills in writing tasks. This supports the idea that Latin training cultivates metalinguistic awareness and syntactic flexibility, key components for creative and effective writing in English.

For contemporary writers, mastering these techniques can transform prose and verse into a living dialogue between words and expectations, turning the simple act of rearranging a phrase into a powerful creative choice. If more authors were equipped with a Latin background, they would perhaps possess a heightened sensitivity to syntax’s rhetorical possibilities and a richer palette for crafting sentences that surprise, emphasise, and resonate.

Classical Roots of Universal Themes Classical myths undoubtedly distil archetypal human experiences, such as hubris, transformation, love, and revenge, into narratives that resonate across time and culture.

Greek and Roman stories of prideful Icarus, metamorphic Daphne, passionate Pyramus and Thisbe, and vengeful Medea address universal emotional arcs that Carl Jung11, (the founder of analytical psychology 12) later identified as collective archetypes, innate patterns shaping human thought and behaviour. 13

10 (Stafford, 2012) 11 (Leigh, 2011) 12 (Jung, 2015)

13 (Hopwood, n.d.)

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A writer schooled in Latin literature internalises not only these enduring themes but also the structural scaffolding that carries them: the theorem of tragic reversal (where a hero’s downfall follows hubristic overreach), the progression of the heroic journey (from exile through trials to apotheosis), and the mechanics of metamorphosis narratives (where physical transformation mirrors inner change). Literary scholars often point to Ovid’s Metamorphoses 14as a masterclass in narrative patterning: in his prologue, Ovid declares his intention to craft

a 'perpetuum carmen' - a continuous poem that traces an unbroken arc from the creation of the world to his contemporary Rome 15, seamlessly weaving together over 250 myths into a single, cohesive narrative. The Latin phrase “perpetuum… carmen” translates to ‘continuous song’ which encapsulates two key ambitions: first, an Epic Scope, aligning Ovid’s poem within the grandeur of Homeric and Hesiodic tradition, while distinguishing it through unified narrative continuity rather than isolated tales, and, secondly, Callimachean Elegance - a promise to make a seamless text, despite the poem’s vast scale 16. Together, it promises a woven epic - a poem that never breaks its pattern but moves seamlessly from the dawn of creation through 250 mythic episodes, and finally to the apotheosis of Julius Caesar. For modern writers, understanding this ‘perpetual song’ illustrates how a truly integrated epic can be built from discrete stories, enabling scholars to craft novels or series that feel both richly episodic and satisfyingly cohesive. By contrast, authors without a classical background frequently rely on a narrower set of contemporary tropes, and overused plot devices that can leave stories feeling formulaic and predictable 17. In the crowded marketplace of modern fiction, tropes like ‘enemies-to-lovers’ or ‘the chosen one’ dominate, but often at the expense

14 (Ovid, n.d.)

15 (Steiner, n.d.)

16 (Hardy, 2007)

17 (Pathak, 2017)

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of deeper structural innovation. A Latin-educated writer can more deftly weave Ovidian transformations or Virgilian ekphrases into modern settings, enriching both form and theme.

Greater familiarity with Latin among authors would likely enhance the structural complexity and thematic depth of their English prose, fostering a more profound engagement with readers through a dialogue rooted in our collective mythological heritage.

Counterpoints and a Pluralistic Curriculum While Latin provides a powerful foundation for engaging with Western literature, it is important to recognise that it represents just one branch within the world’s expansive and diverse literary heritage. Global narrative traditions, such as the Shahnameh of Persia, the Popol Vuh of the Maya, and the Epic of Sundiata from West Africa, contain their own sophisticated narrative structures, archetypes, and rhetorical devices. These texts often explore themes that overlap with those of classical mythology (heroism, divine-human interaction, cycles of war and peace) but do so through entirely different metaphysical frameworks and stylistic conventions. For instance, the Mahābhārata employs deeply nested frame-narratives: an outer layer begins with the bard Śoṇa Ugraśrava recounting the epic to sages, within which the sage Vaiśampāyana narrates to King Janamejaya, who in turn hears the story of the Kurukṣetra War, which itself contains hundreds of further sub-stories and digressions.18 This recursive ‘story-within-a-story’ structure, often layering three or more narrative frames, demonstrates a departure from linear time and perspective while embedding philosophical, ethical, and mythic commentary at each level. This challenges linear storytelling in a way that parallels Ovid’s fluid transitions in Metamorphoses, yet emerges from a different cosmological vision. Whilst Tolkien’s and Nabokov’s intertextual 18 (Adluri, n.d.)

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techniques resemble this complexity, few modern Western writers match the narrative depth built into the Mahābhārata’s structural DNA. Another key consideration is accessibility: Latin’s long-standing association with private schools, elite universities, and Eurocentric canons can alienate students from diverse backgrounds or reinforce the perception that it belongs to an ivory-tower legacy. Recent efforts to democratise Latin learning, such as the UK’s Latin Excellence Programme 2022, piloted in primary schools, were designed to broaden access by supporting Latin lessons for more than 8,000 pupils across 40 non-selective state schools. This initiative challenged perceptions of Latin as elitist by making it available to a more diverse student body.

Unfortunately, government funding for this “popular programme”18 was pulled earlier this year, 19 thereby forcing these state school pupils to drop GCSE Latin altogether. Tom Holland, the award-winning author, expressed his disappointment in the government’s decision to discontinue funding, asserting that: “A lot of English literature is saturated with knowledge of Latin” 20 , highlighting the detrimental effect of this funding cut.

A genuinely pluralistic literary education should not have to choose between Latin and other traditions but deliberately juxtapose them. Classical languages offer structure, discipline, and access to a long arc of literary history, while global literatures introduce alternate rhythms, moral logics, and aesthetic frameworks. Together, they can equip young writers not only with technical proficiency, but also cultural agility: the capacity to craft prose that honours the past while boldly embracing the future.

19 (Adams, 2025)

20 (Unknown, 2025)

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Conclusion: Toward a New Literary Renaissance Reinstating Latin in all schools need not be a nostalgic quixotic quest. If taught inclusively, and in dialogue with other world literatures, Latin can furnish writers with unparalleled grammatical precision, a deep reservoir of narrative techniques, and a direct link to archetypal mythic structures. Seminal figures such as Tolkien and Nabokov illustrate how classical training can infuse modern prose with structural depth and evocative power. Yet the greatest gains emerge when Latin study is integrated into a wider, pluralistic curriculum, one that champions diversity of voices while preserving the discipline and artistry of the classical tradition. This could perhaps mark the beginning of a new golden age of writing, where the ancient and the yet-to-be-written shake hands across time.

ANGELIQUE DAWSON, LVI

MATTHEW JOHNSON MVI

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BLAKE IROW UV

45

LAWIN NAYIR UV

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Tom’s comparative coursework provided the opportunity to explore the theme of expiation in McEwan’s Atonement and Hardy’s Poems 1912-1913

In Hardy’s 1912-13 elegies and McEwan’s Atonement, protagonists attempt to atone for their behaviour whilst realising that they cannot ever achieve consolation. Hardy is ‘forced to confront not just [Emma’s] death but the extent to which, over the course of a long marriage, the passionate early love …had itself cooled’ 21 whilst Briony records her misinterpretation of reality which solidifies into a testimony that destroys Robbie and Cecilia’s romance. Their attempts ‘to repair the irreparable past’22 are futile with their reparative methods compromised by the self-consciously literary process through which they distort and recreate the past. The texts explore how self-recrimination and incriminating others qualifies atonement and both writers craft their endings to question the extent to which there is any consolation at all.

Both authors construct narrative personae who write to make amends to a lost relative.

Hardy’s poetry seeks consolation for the loss of his wife, Emma Gifford, and the demise of their relationship, suggesting ‘from the moment that she died, Hardy set about reanimating her as a phantom of his own figuring recreating the scenes and landscapes of their courtship in defiance of the present.’23 A recreation of the past takes place in Atonement, too, where Briony spends the first part of the novel recounting her ‘crime’ in ‘mistakenly identifying Lola’s rapist.’ 24 However, whereas Hardy’s recreations glorify the Emma of his youth, Briony’s

21 Armstrong, T. 2000 Haunted Hardy London: Palgrave Macmillan

22 Weston, E Resisting Loss: Guilt and Consolation in Ian McEwan’s Atonement Journal of Modern Literature Vol 42, No. 3,

Reading a Century of Affects (Spring 2019) pp 92-109

23 Finney, B. Briony’s Stand Against Oblivion: the making of fiction in Ian McEwan’s Atonement. Journal of Modern

Literature. Vol 27, No 3, 2004 pp 68-82

24 Weston E Resisting Loss: Guilt and Consolation in Ian McEwan’s Atonement Journal of Modern Literature Vol 42, No. 3,

Reading a Century of Affects (Spring 2019) pp 92-109

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attempt at a less rose-tinted reconstruction, ironically, conveys the ‘dangerously seductive power of story and its ability to fabricate rather than merely reflect the lives of others’ 25.

Whereas the narrative perspective of Hardy’s poet narrator is relatively singular, McEwan’s narrative in Part I is problematised by a duality of perspective since ‘there are two writers’ voices...though still in the third person, the texts alludes to both the child writer Briony and another, older Briony – a fiction writer who six decades later remembers the scene observed by her 13 year old self.’ 26 That the older Briony tries to ‘use fiction to make amends for the damage that fiction has induced her to cause in the first place’ 27 is evident in the impression she gives of the younger Briony ‘lost to her writing fantasies,’ 28 whose ‘passion for tidiness was also satisfied, for an unruly world could be made just so.’ 29 The noun ‘fantasies’ is synonymous with unrealistic creation whereas the adjective “lost” suggests Briony’s complete abandonment to the non-existent. An “unruly world”, where the adjective suggests a lack of stricture, is negated with the noun “tidiness” suggesting Briony uses fiction to satiate her desire for order, a desire that the older Briony foregrounds in her description of the events of Part I. Whilst this appears innocent in her retelling of ‘The Trials of Arabella’ where her ‘love of order... shaped the principles of justice…’, 30 Briony’s older voice makes it clear that her imagination leads to Robbie’s false conviction, compelling her to see him as a ‘maniac treading through the night with a dark, unfulfilled heart.” 31 The noun ‘maniac’ connotes a feral lack of

25 Bradley, Arthur, and Andrew Tate. The New Atheist Novel: Fiction, Philosophy and Polemic after 9/11. Continuum, 2010.

26 O'Dwyer, Erin. “Of Letters, Love, and Lack: A Lacanian Analysis of Ian McEwan's Epistolary Novel Atonement.” Critique:

Studies in Contemporary Fiction, vol. 57, no. 2, 2016, pp. 178-190.

27 Finney, B. Briony’s Stand Against Oblivion: the making of fiction in Ian McEwan’s Atonement. Journal of Modern Literature. Vol 27, No 3, 2004 pp 68-82 28 McEwan, I., 2001. Atonement. 1st Edition ed. s.l.:Vintage. pp 146 29 Ibid. pp 147 30 Ibid pp 147 31 Ibid pp 150

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restraint resulting from his ‘dark, unfulfilled heart,’ where the adjectives convey his yearning for something mysteriously evil. The verb ‘treading’ conveys a stealthy, predatory action and, allied to the Byronic description of his restless ‘heart’, enables the older Briony to signpost her younger self’s, pre-pubescent obsession - an obsession that fuels her misinterpretation of a suddenly sexualised Robbie and Cecilia as well as Lola’s attack. Her demonisation of Robbie leads the younger Briony to ask Lola ‘“it was Robbie wasn’t it?’ The Maniac…” and reassure Lola that, ‘[she/Briony] can and [she/Briony] will’ since ‘if her poor cousin wasn’t able to command the truth then she would do it for her.’ 32 The verb “command” implies a power over truth – a truth that has become simultaneously certain and abstract. Of note is her description of her accusations as “her own discovery… her story, the one that was writing itself around her,” 33 where contrasting nouns “discovery” and “story” conflate revelation and fabrication and the passive nature of the truth ‘writing itself around her’ suggests both her lack of control and her egocentricity. When Briony says “she would have preferred to qualify her use of the word ‘saw.’ Less like seeing, more like knowing,” 34 the verbs highlight how Briony has assumed Robbie’s guilt rather than having witnessed it and signals the narrative perspective of the older Briony in pointing out the foolishness of her younger self’s dogged determination to defend her allegation. This is confirmed when Briony admits that “the truth instructed her eyes.” The verb “instructed” gives the agency in the sentence to “truth” suggesting her self-righteous belief that she is led by what is socially acceptable and that ‘her wish for a harmonious, organised world denied her the reckless possibilities of wrongdoing.’ 35 Consequently, Briony uses Part I of the narrative to confess her younger self’s behaviour.

32 Ibid pp 154 33 Ibid pp 155 34 Ibid pp 155 35 Ibid pp 155

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Contrastingly, Hardy’s response to Emma’s death and his discovery of the diary recording her complaints about him, ‘What I think of my Husband,’ is to reconstruct a more nostalgic view of a past that pre-dates the decline in their relationship. This can be seen in ‘Beeny Cliff,’ which is ‘pointedly subtitled March 1870-March 1913 as if Hardy wanted to prove to the reader his ability to exhume an emotion many decades later…’ 36 In his autobiography, Hardy described Emma as ‘so living’ 37 and the date of his first encounter, 7th March 1870, was to be an anniversary commemorated with his desk calendar set to that date in perpetuity. In Beeny Cliff, Hardy describes Emma as, ‘the woman riding high above with bright hair flapping free’ 38.

The verb phrase “flapping free” conveys Emma’s liberty and couples with the adjective “bright” in creating a positive image of her. Additionally, the phrase “riding high”, without the side saddle, suggests an unconventional spirit which Hardy so admired. Such a focus on his courtship envisions a return to a simpler past, when ‘life unfolded its very best’ and makes the poems ‘the finest and strangest celebrations of the dead in English poetry.’ 39 However, Ramazani disagrees, suggesting that, often ‘what had begun as an elegy for Hardy’s wife ends as an elegy for Hardy.’ 40 At the close of Beeny Cliff Hardy moves from recollection of the past in all its glorious ‘clear sunned’ days and ‘the woman whom I so loved’ to a melancholic reflection on life’s transiency. In contrast to the certainty of ‘old Beeny’, the tone of Hardy’s description of his (and Emma’s) ability to inhabit this space becomes more fretfully uncertain when he questions ‘shall she and I not go there...and the sweet things said in that March say anew by and by?’ The final stanza apparently answers the question and ends with a resignation to Emma’s indifference to the world, irrespective of its going on without her. The

36 Armstrong, T. 2000 Haunted Hardy London: Palgrave Macmillan pp 27

37 Tomalin C. Thomas Hardy, The Time Torn Man 2012 London: Penguin pp 29

38 Hardy, T., 2009. Thomas Hardy Selected Poetry. Reissue ed. Oxford: OUP Oxford.

39 Tomalin C. Thomas Hardy, The Time Torn Man 2012 London: Penguin pp 38

40 Ramazani J 1991. Hardy and the Poetics of Melancholia: Poems of 1912-13 and Other Elegies for Emma. ELH, LVIII(4), pp.

957-977.

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contrast between the ‘chasmal beauty’ and the ‘wild, weird western shore’ of their early courtship and the parenthetical ‘-elsewhere-’ which denotes Emma’s resting place shows Hardy’s rejection of his attempt to reconstruct the past as a method of gaining solace.

Consequently, both writers construct narratives that attempt to reconstruct the past but whereas Briony’s confessional attempts solace through a return to the ‘crime’ for which she has to atone, Hardy’s nostalgia sees him attempting to relive a past that exempts him from acknowledging the subsequent dysfunction of his marriage but leads him to admit he is powerless to seek reparation since she ‘nor knows nor cares’ anymore.

Both personae incriminate others, diminishing the extent to which their reflections are an effective means of atonement. Briony implicates the police interrogation as ‘firmly recall[ing] her to her earliest statements’ and how, in reiterating those statements ‘it was comforting to feel she was confirming what they already knew.’ 41 The adverb “firmly” suggests coercion, the verb ‘confirming’ suggesting a provincial thirst to see Robbie undone. This is emphasised when she describes how ‘an imposing congregation had massed itself around her first certainties and now it was waiting and she could not disappoint it at the altar,’ where “imposing” suggests manipulation and the lexical field of religion compares the social pressure to an enforced confession of sin. That ‘class is inevitably a big preoccupation,’42 is evident in how Robbie is defined as the “charlady’s son,” and Mrs Tallis believes him a ‘hobby of Jack’s...living proof of some levelling principle’. 43 At the time of the novel’s setting, the outbreak of the second World War, British society retained a rigid class structure with the educated middle and upper classes asserting their superiority over the working classes.

41 McEwan, I. 2001. Atonement. 1st Edition ed. s.l.:Vintage. pp 200

42 Mendelsohn, D. 2002 Unforgiven New York Books https://nymag.com/nymetro/arts/books/reviews/5776/ 43 McEwan, I., 2001. Atonement. 1st Edition ed. s.l.:Vintage. pp 220

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Consequently, the older Briony uses her knowledge of how resentment about Robbie’s social mobility might have affected her 13 year old self to suggest that ‘what she meant was rather more complex than what everyone else had so eagerly understood,’ 44 where ‘eagerly’ qualifies the verb ‘understood’ suggesting that her audience deliberately misunderstood her testimony. Similarly, Hardy blames Emma for their broken communication asking, “Why did you give no hint that night… calmly as if indifferent quite, you would close your term here and be gone….” 45 The direct question creates an accusation of cold indifference augmented by the verb phrase ‘close your term’ suggesting a business-like premeditation to leave before any preparation, let alone reparation, could be affected. The adverb “calmly” and adjective ‘indifferent” condemn her nonchalance to him which is unsurprising since ‘they had run out of conversation, he was in love with another woman, and for some years now she had withdrawn from him, choosing to sleep alone in a small room in the attic.’ 46 However, despite their recrimination of others neither narrators escape self-censure. In The Going, Hardy’s vituperative attack on Emma subsides to a regret that must be shared, the shift in pronoun from ‘you’ to ‘we’ signals a more reflective questioning of his role in the deterioration of their marriage, hypothesising that they ‘might have said’ things to resuscitate their relationship.

Similarly, in Part III, Briony reins in her condemnation of others acknowledging how ‘she would never be able to console herself that she was pressured or bullied. She never was. She trapped herself, she marched into the labyrinth of her own construction and was too young, too awestruck, too keen to please, to insist on making her own way back.’ 47 In doing so, Briony ostensibly acknowledges that she is culpable for her slander of Robbie; however, she

44 Ibid pp 220

45 Hardy, T., 2009. Thomas Hardy Selected Poetry. Reissue ed. Oxford: OUP Oxford.

46 Tomalin C. Thomas Hardy, The Time Torn Man 2012 London: Penguin pp 54 47 McEwan, I., 2001. Atonement. 1st Edition ed. s.l.:Vintage. pp 130

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undercuts the negation of societal pressure with the implication that it did affect her in the phrase ‘too keen to please’, suggesting deflection of guilt.

The writers explore the theme of reparation through the fabrication of interactions with others. In Atonement this can be seen in Part II which imagines Robbie’s experiences on the front line and in Part III when Briony engineers a narrative reconciliation at Balham. In Part II, Briony usurps Robbie’s voice and experience, in a move that is potentially reparative since ‘captur[ing] and remember[ing] [the past’s] horrors’’ 48 and Robbie’s suffering acts as a means of self torture and penance. This leads Finney to suggest that the ‘generic switch to historical fiction indicates her abandonment of the historical blindness implicit in Two Figures by a Fountain’,49 signalling her desire to empathise and avoid the ‘narrativized narcissism that expanded to fill in the gaps [in other parts of the narrative]’ 50. Alternatively, this section enables the inclusion of more self-accusation such as Cecilia’s letter to Robbie which states, ‘They chose to believe the evidence of a silly hysterical little girl. In fact, they encouraged her by giving her no room to turn back’. 51 This simultaneously enables Briony’s self-recrimination and evasion of responsibility, suggesting an oscillation between feelings of guilt and avoidance. In the interaction at Balham, imagining Robbie “torn between breaking your small neck right here and throwing you down the stairs…” 52 enables Briony to fantasise the punishment she would like to receive. However, a concocted opportunity to tell him “[she is] very, very sorry [she has] caused him such terrible distress,” 53 (with the repeated quantifier

48 Wells , L. Ian McEwan. Palgrave Macmillan, 2010.

49 Finney, B. Briony’s Stand Against Oblivion: the making of fiction in Ian McEwan’s Atonement. Journal of Modern

Literature. Vol 27, No 3, 2004 pp 68-82

50 Bradley, Arthur, and Andrew Tate. The New Atheist Novel: Fiction, Philosophy and Polemic after 9/11. Continuum, 2010.

51 McEwan, I., 2001. Atonement. 1st Edition ed. s.l.:Vintage. pp 160 52 Ibid pp 160 53 Ibid pp 162

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and adjective “terrible” emphasising her remorse) is undermined with her imagining of Robbie’s reaction in which she fantasises him ‘softly’ telling her to “just do all the things we’ve asked,” where ‘softly’ connotes tender forgiveness, whilst the reductive qualifier “just” maps the simple path to redemption. Consequently, in simultaneously falsifying the confrontation of guilt and fabricating the ease with which she can achieve repentance, ‘fantasy resolution rather than true reparation permeates the text’54. Similarly, Hardy imagines interactions with Emma’s ghost, suggesting that ‘the gulf separating Emma’s spectre from Hardy...can be seen as the final embodiment of the divisions that separated them in the later years of their marriage... whatever the nature of the visitation, each is interpreted by Hardy as either promising or refusing to mend the breach that they failed to mend in life, or as a disconcerting mixture of both.’ 55 In ‘The Haunter’ Hardy emphasises Emma’s ghostly devotion to him. He begins by having her declare that ‘he does not think that I haunt here nightly’ and that ‘whither his fancy sets him wandering I, too, alertly go…’ 56 The adverbs ‘nightly’ and ‘alertly’ describe the frequency and loyalty of her posthumous devotion to him augmented by ‘whither’ which implies a lack of direction by which she is undeterred. The verb ‘haunt’ highlights their separation but contrasts with the adverb ‘nightly’ implying habitual proximity.

Such contrast is furthered through how she ‘hover[s] and hover[s] a few feet from him just as [she] used to,’ where repetition of ‘hover’ suggests both constant proximity but also the spectral and ethereal confirming distance. The negation of a possible rapprochement is central but his usurpation of voice allows a gentler, posthumous tone than ‘What I think about my husband’. He has Emma describe herself as ‘a faithful one… doing all that love can do still that his oath may be worth pursuing, and to bring peace thereto,’ referencing a ‘love’ and

54 Wells , L. Ian McEwan. Palgrave Macmillan, 2010.

55 Ford, M. 2023 Woman Much Missed Oxford OUP

56 Hardy T., 2009. Thomas Hardy Selected Poetry. Reissue ed. Oxford: OUP Oxford.

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‘oath’ reminiscent of the couple’s wedding vows, whilst the abstract noun ‘peace’ implies an avoidance of the conflict that blighted the marriage. Consequently, Hardy’s poems suggest that reparation is futile, but, like Briony, he fabricates interactions in the hope that they might be a salve to his despair. Both personae construct interactions with others as a means to selfaccuse and also evade complete censure.

Both personae undergo redemptive suffering including the self-destruction of the narratives of reconciliation they have produced. Briony “abandon[s] herself to a life of strictures”57 where the pluralised “strictures” suggest the suppression of self necessary to atone.

However, the undermining of an act of “skivvying or humble nursing” to “undo the damage,” suggests the work is a cynical attempt to repent, highlighting the irony in Briony’s previous assessment of Robbie’s heroism as “ surely a cynical attempt to win forgiveness for what could never be forgiven.” Ostensibly, training as a nurse, Briony’s ‘internalisation of judgement’58 is reflected in her isolation and lack of agency when it is revealed that ‘she had no identity beyond her badge.’ However, Briony defies the sister by revealing her name to a patient, thereby suggesting that if, ‘weak, stupid, confused, cowardly, evasive’, she did lose her agency, her agency is quickly recovered by the end of part III. A similar self-destruction happens in Hardy’s elegies with the relinquishment of his ‘narcissistic idea...[and the fact that he] punishes himself with an astonishing image of his own death’ 59 seeming ‘but a dead man held on end/To sink down soon.’60 Moreover, Hardy suffers the acknowledgment of his own mortality compared to Emma’s immortality, as in The Phantom Horsewoman, in which he

57 McEwan, I., 2001. Atonement. 1st Edition ed. s.l.:Vintage. pp 165

58 Williston B. The Importance of Self Forgiveness American Philosophical Quarterly, Vol. 49, No. 1 (JANUARY 2012), pp. 67-80

59 Ramazani J 1991. Hardy and the Poetics of Melancholia: Poems of 1912-13 and Other Elegies for Emma. ELH, LVIII(4), pp.

957-977.

60 Hardy T., 2009. Thomas Hardy Selected Poetry. Reissue ed. Oxford: OUP Oxford.

55

notes ‘time touches her not’ but ‘he withers daily...toil-tried’ suggesting he indulges in a ‘fantasy of self punishment’ 61 where many of the elegies end on ‘a gesture of self destruction’. 62 Perhaps the most self-destructive elements are inherent in the literary selfconsciousness invested in the endings. Both writers undermine atonement in what, for McEwan, is ‘the most dramatic refusal of consolation.’63 In Briony’s revelation that her rewrite of Robbie and Cecilia’s narrative arc is a self-serving fabrication since ‘Robbie and Cecilia [were] casualties of war before Briony could own up to her sin... and receive actual, that is personal, forgiveness’ 64, she denies consolation. In informing the reader that the second two parts of the novel were her attempt to fictively remember and thereby ‘redeem the tragic consequences of what is recounted in the first’ leads ‘what was originally an omniscient sympathetic point of view to be devalued.’ 65 Furthermore, ‘retreat[ing] from the courage of harsh realism’66 before ultimately retreating from holding herself to account at all, she questions, ‘How can a novelist achieve atonement when, with her absolute power of deciding outcomes, she is also God.’ 67 Her self-deification speaks to her egoism but also questions the author’s “absolute power” and whether it renders the process of atonement futile.

Interestingly, this brings scrutiny to “a novelist’s treatment of what is fantasised as fact” 68, allowing the reader to draw parallels between Briony’s lack of credibility as an author and accusations that McEwan copied ‘phrases and sentences for his best-selling novel ‘Atonement’ in 2001 from a memoir published in 1977 by Lucilla Andrews, a former nurse and

61 Ramazani J 1991. Hardy and the Poetics of Melancholia: Poems of 1912-13 and Other Elegies for Emma. ELH, LVIII(4), pp.

957-977.

62 Ibid

63 Phelan, J. Experiencing Fiction: Judgments, Progressions, and the Rhetorical Theory of Narrative. Ohio State UP, 2007. PP

14

64 Shah, B. The Sin of Ian McEwan’s Fictive Atonement New Blackfriars, Vol. 90, No. 1025 (January 2009), pp. 38-49 65 Ibid

66 O'Dwyer, Erin. “Of Letters, Love, and Lack: A Lacanian Analysis of Ian McEwan's Epistolary Novel Atonement.” Critique:

Studies in Contemporary Fiction, vol. 57, no. 2, 2016, pp. 178-190.

67 McEwan, I., 2001. Atonement. 1st Edition ed. s.l.:Vintage. pp 318

68 Kermode, F, ‘Point of View’ ,London Review of Books, vol. 23, n° 19, October 2001.

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an acclaimed writer of romantic novels.’ 69 Whilst Briony’s revelation of early on-set dementia seems to be a natural, externally imposed retreat from recollection and guilt, she is unequivocal in her suggestion she might redraft their story: ‘I was not so self-serving as to let them forgive me. Not quite, not yet.’ 70 Therefore, Briony does not seem to have grown out of the belief that Robbie and Cecilia are characters in her own narrative, challenging how “Briony’s character undergoes a change from egocentric and foolish to remorseful.”71 Similarly, Hardy acknowledges his projection of needs in ‘Looking at a Picture on an Anniversary,’ when he writes ‘if this face I con does not declare consciousness living on still in it, little I care to live myself, my dear, lone-labouring here.’ 72 Ostensibly, this reiterates the self-destructive endings to many of his elegies. However, the pun in ‘con’ flags how he ‘deceive[d] himself into thinking that the picture can both embody a living consciousness and reflect his desires.’ 73 In reality she is, in death and in life when she was a muse for much of his writing, a ‘dead reflector of his needs’74.

In conclusion, both the fictitious Briony and Hardy’s narrator seek atonement and their narratives attempt to repair the irreparable. Hardy initially reanimates the distant past to evade the pain of Emma’s death whereas Briony uses the first order narrative as a project of self renewal and forgiveness, confessing her younger self’s sins to achieve forgiveness. Both deny culpability but also incorporate modes of expiation that do not ‘ameliorate or excuse

69 The New York Times

https://www.nytimes.com › 2006/11/28 › arts 70 McEwan, I., 2001. Atonement. 1st Edition ed. s.l.:Vintage. pp 180

71 Fillomova, I. 2014 Childhood’s trauma in The Go Between and Atonement

Available at //efaidnbmnnnibpcajpcglclefindmkaj/https://skemman.is/bitstream/1946/19708/1/BA%20Essay%2C%20final.pdf 72 Hardy, T., 2009. Thomas Hardy Selected Poetry. Reissue ed. Oxford: OUP Oxford.

73 Ramazani J 1991. Hardy and the Poetics of Melancholia: Poems of 1912-13 and Other Elegies for Emma. ELH, LVIII(4), pp.

957-977.

74 Ibid

57

the past’ 75. Consequently, both writers suggest that ‘there is no satisfying salve for history, there is only remembering’. 76 THOMAS REA MVI

ROSALIE AITKEN UV 75 Wells, Lynn. Ian McEwan. Palgrave Macmillan, 2010. PP127

76 Phelan, James. Experiencing Fiction: Judgments, Progressions, and the Rhetorical Theory of Narrative. Ohio State UP,

2007. PP 14

58

Removes student, Willian, won the East of England “If you were an Engineer, what would you do?” competition. He put together a design for a kinetic floor tile using piezoelectric crystals to harness the energy of commuters to power the lights in underground stations.

59

WILLIAM COHEN REM

60

AYAT MAHMOOD IV

61