In the middle of Terry Eagleton’s new book, The Event of Literature, we come across the eighteenth century bishop who, having just read Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels, threw the book into his fireplace, declaring that he didn’t believe a word of it. Fictionality is not the only topic under discussion in this work (although that chapter is particularly rewarding).

Eagleton takes a look at literature through the conjunction of Continental literary theory and the Anglo-Saxon philosophy of literature. In a recent In Our Time episode, this dichotomy seemed to be revealed as an Anglo-American construction, alien to continental philosophers. But, for the sake of argument, or more realistically not making a huge fool of myself by taking on one of the most esteemed and groundbreaking literary theorists, we’ll leave that there.

In the chapter on realism and nominalism, he surveys the running battle between the empiricists and rationalists, noting that realism has been rebuked for generalisation, whilst nominalists have gotten flack for being so wrapped up in material imaginings that they can’t disentangle themselves from them, so much so that Plato threw the poets out of his Republic, so caught as they were in the sensuality of music that they couldn’t rise to the dignity of an abstract idea. Students of literature should watch out.

How is a poem different from a joke? How is a dream, written down, different from a novel, both combining imagery, wordplay, grippingly dramatic events, moral insight, fascinating characters and a compelling storyline? If a real duke plays a character who is a duke, is a film or play removed from its supposed fictionality? This exploration of dogmatism and meaning allows Eagleton swipes at liberals who attack didacticism and conviction, proof that the old Marxist is not dead. But this is no lengthy meditation on Marxist criticism. Tolstoy, Twain and Tropic Thunder are mentioned in the same breath.

He sets up what seems to be a reasonably plausible definition of literature, and then knocks it down: fictionality, the ability to yield significant insight into human experience, the self-conscious or heightened use of language, a lack of practicality, and highly valued as a piece of writing. Impracticality and fictionality work, as they exclude shopping lists. But what about the American Declaration of Independence? It is practical and a work of non-fiction, yet also a work of literature. We learn that Shelley wanted to class parliamentary statutes as poetry, creating harmony – as they supposedly did – out of disorder (although, to dispel the risk that David Cameron is considered the new Keats or Wordsworth, we should move on swiftly).

Eagleton’s book is a swirling nebula, a string of stars set against a seemingly impenetrable black sky. It is wonderfully accessible, and yet the subject tackled is gigantic, so massive as to extend beyond this world into questioning God’s nature and reality itself. Yet, you don’t leave sections on subjects like Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Investigations feeling a dolt. This is a book for those interested in literary theory, philosophy, or anything in between.

It is written in the Qur’an that the prophet Muhammad turned to his followers and said, ‘Beautiful writing clarifies the truth’. It is the aim of this collection to explore that very possibility. Comprising little more than ten antique pages, two modern paintings and some folio artefacts, one might initially feel underwhelmed by the Ashmolean’s Al-Qur’an Al-Karim exhibition; however, the condensed nature of this exhibit is a strength rather than a weakness. It allows for a clear focus and easy comparison of calligraphic styles which would be lost if awash with multifarious examples.

The word Qur’an comes from the Arabic word Qura’a meaning ‘to recite’. This is unsurprising considering that not only was the Qur’an not codified until after Muhammad’s death, completed finally in its present condition under the Caliph Uthman between 644-656 AD, surviving through oral transmission until that time, but also the Islamic Adhan, ‘call to prayer’, which occurs five times a day for Muslims, includes the recitation of the Shahada, ‘the statement of faith’. Indeed, with Adhan having been by some scholars derived from the word Udun meaning ‘ear’, we get a vibrant impression of the importance of aural communication in Islam, the inception of the Qur’an supposedly having been when Allah told the Prophet to ‘Proclaim’ the word of God.

However, debate has raged over the true meaning of God’s request, with some suggesting that the word ‘Proclaim’ should be translated as ‘Read’; with this, the importance of the written document is given primacy in a world in which most were illiterate, including the Prophet himself. The Ashmolean’s collection is arranged in chronological order, demonstrating the progression of calligraphic styles as each generation and nation sought to refine their own codified version of God’s word.

The kufic script emerged in the eighth century as the preferred script and continued well into the twelfth century. However, the development of paper, in place of parchment, in the tenth century allowed for experiments with more rounded scripts. Six cursive hands were developed – the al-aqlam al-sitta or ‘six pens’ – which began to be adopted at various times and in various regions. The collection contains a beautiful example of the muhaqqah script which was predominant in Egypt and Iran from 1200-1400, considered by many to be the most majestic.

The calligraphy of a text is not the only means by which the scribes adorned their works, and there are interesting examples in the exhibition of illuminated writing. This, of course, differs greatly from those found in western manuscripts from the time, most notably owing to the fact that Muslims are forbidden from depicting in art the images of sentient beings. However, the inability to create images to adorn focuses the efforts of the calligrapher on the writing itself, with unsparing use of gold leaf to further impress. And this exhibition is truly impressive – one not to miss.

We could not provide an adequate account of our university’s unusual literary past without mentioning the man who established the Oxford stereotype that remains ingrained in the minds of the public today. Undergraduates applying to Oxford probably envisage an indulgent existence of champagne luncheons, decadent excess and diamond-encrusted tortoises, but they could not be more mistaken (except perhaps for the unconventional choice of college pets).

Evelyn Waugh, it would seem, not only wrote about the decadence of upper class society, but lived it too. His thoughtful, satiric portrayals of the aristocratic way of life in novels such as Brideshead Revisited were partly fuelled by first hand experience. Arguably, it was his time at Oxford that shaped the literary satirist that we have come to know so well.

Waugh’s talent for writing manifested itself at an early age. At seven, he had already become the author of his first work, ‘The Curse of the Race Horse’. His genius did not go unnoticed: Waugh, at least, thought himself ‘quite a clever little boy’. This confidence no doubt came in handy in the intellectual environment of Oxford.

Waugh’s elder brother, Alec, had followed family tradition and attended Sherborne. Unfortunately he was expelled after his homosexual relationship with another pupil was revealed. Alec subsequently wrote the novel The Loom of Youth, based on the homosexual goings on at Sherborne. This book proved so controversial that Evelyn was denied admission to the school, instead attending Lancing in 1917. At school, Evelyn went against the current and set up the satiric Corpse Club to parody the cadet corps ‘for those who were weary of life’.

At Oxford, Waugh enjoyed the social scene offered by his new university. He told a friend that ‘I do no work here and never go to Chapel’.Waugh also became secretary of the Hertford debating society, spoke at the Union and wrote for the Cherwell and Isis. He joined The Hypocrites’ Club, the centre of Oxford’s gay and artistic scene. Drinking and socialising formed the basis of his weekly activities.

The pressure of maintaining all of these extracurricular pursuits landed him with a third in History. His bohemian approach to work sparked a dispute between the writer and his history tutor, C.R.M.F Cruttwell, who also happened to be the Dean of his college. They plunged into a bitter battle and the Dean formed the basis for many of Waugh’s loathsome characters. Waugh’s poor academic effort lost him a scholarship and stopped him from returning to Oxford to finish his degree.

Despite this Waugh went on to achieve fame and fortune with the Oxford-inspired Brideshead Revisited. He is remembered as a successful satirical novelist, arguably one of the most acclaimed writers of the 20th century. He is a reminder that working hard here is not everything: experience is key.

Of the five Bluffers’ guides we’ve done so far this term, we are yet to feature a female playwright. To what, dear readers, ought this be attributed? Does Cherwell Stage hate women? Perhaps a better question is: where are all the female playwrights? The Wikipedia page lists a paltry 141 names, of which this reviewer had previously only come across three (one of whom is dead). It is unsurprising, then, that of the many productions being put on this term, not one is written by a woman. The problem seems to lie in the way in which contemporary women’s writing is received.  Last week’s allegations of sexism in the Jesus College JCR followed the opposition of a motion supporting making female empowerment events constitutional, where the most vocal adversaries were female. A similar movement, where women are not supporting other women, appears to be taking place internationally in Stage communities. Emily Glassberg Sands, a Harvard economist, conducted an extensive study which gave concrete evidence about the way in which female dramatists find it harder to have their work performed.

Sands reviewed 20,000 playwrights in the Dramatists Guild and Doollee.com, an online database of  playwrights,  and  discovered  that  there were  twice  as many male  playwrights  as  female  ones and that these men tended to produce work at a substantially faster rate. To an extent, this explains why good scripts by women are in such short supply. Yet the most compelling results from this study are revealed not from the limited number of scripts but from the way in which these scripts are received. Sands sent identical scripts to artistic directors and literary managers around the United States, labelling half the scripts as being by a man (for example, John Doe), and the other half as being by a woman (i.e. Jane Doe). Jane’s scripts received significantly worse ratings in terms of quality, economic prospects and audience response than John’s. Clearly, a large part of the problem stems from the way in which women’s work is received. The most troubling thing about this, however, is that these results were ‘driven exclusively by the responses of female artistic directors and literary managers.  Men rate men and women playwrights exactly the same.’

Evidently this is a widespread problem in the greater dramatic world, but is the same true within Oxford? The current OUDS president is female, as is half of the committee – a fantastic statistic in a university where women are grossly underrepresented in positions of leadership. Furthermore, the inimitable Meera Syal – actress, singer, writer, playwright, comedienne, and general all-round wonder – judged the OUDS New Writing festival. But it’s not all rosy: of the four plays that were eventually produced this year, all were written by men.

Now is a time to encourage women’s writing, and support its production. The Bluffers’ Guide below highlights the unfortunate stock roles that women so often have to play: women’s writing often features female protagonists, who challenge tedious, two-dimensional representations of women on stage. A call to the women of the Oxford Stage community, then: write. And those around them, support them, if not for the good of the wider community, then because it would be jolly  nice to feature a female playwright on the Cherwell Stage page.

The Femme Fatale

My God, she’s sexy. But not in a wholesome kind of way, and certainly not in a way of which your mother would approve. To use a word laden with feminist connotations, the femme fatale is nothing if not problematic, both for the women who watch her and the men unlucky enough to be caught in her trap onstage. Unlike the strumpet, who simply romps with wild abandon, the femme fatale chooses her prey and conducts a systemized and highly strategic plan of attack and seduction, until such point as the leading man either champions above it, leaving her looking silly, or yields to her many temptations. And then what? She’ll either lose interest virtually immediately, or he’ll come to his senses, leaving her lost and alone – until someone else comes her way, and the cycle repeats itself.

Cherwell’s pick: ‘Lady Macbeth’, Macbeth

The Strumpet

The moral opposite of the Love Interest waiting patiently for her man, she provides a fantastically entertaining contrast, without necessitating too much thought on the part of either the playwright or the audience. Useful as a plot device to throw herself at one of the male characters, or to provide symbolic temptation; also useful if you think the audience is getting bored and need some snogging to get them interested again. Basically shorthand for ‘young, free and single’, so best played as nothing but giggles and seductive smiles. Perpetual drunkenness is definitely an option, as is the rendition of a bawdy musical number, ideally with all her strumpet friends.  A character best relegated to chorus duties, or possibly as a lasting love interest for some minor comedic role.

Cherwell’s pick: ‘Jaquenetta’, Love’s Labour’s Lost

The Biddy

Perhaps a housekeeper or nanny, the extent of whose contribution is to wander around the stage fidgeting with props while more serious conversations take place, or to walk in at comically or tragically  inopportune moments. Actresses require the ability to walk in a slow, shuffling manner, whilst wringing their hands or carrying a cup of tea. Ability to affect a regional accent is desirable, but not required. Depending on the tone of the play, you may like to have the old woman drop sexual innuendo into the conversation, ideally in the presence of the younger, better looking cast members. If it’s not a comedy, however, expect lots of charmingly antiquated, but surprisingly relevant advice. And if you favour a more touching ending, perhaps introduce an elderly man for her to pine over.

Cherwell’s pick: ‘Mrs Elton’, The Deep Blue Sea

The Love Interest

When Shakespeare wrote women, they always had to end up either with a man or dead, passed from the protection of their father to a new husband. It may have been the TudorPeriod, but what reason do you have to break the Great Bard’s tradition? Write the love interest like this as passively as possible – her purpose is either to be fought over by two male characters or to drive a man to madness by her cold indifference. Requires a pretty actress who can sit on stage in a dressing gown (or something similar) and provide the audience for impressive speeches delivered by her various suitors. Not rambunctiously sexual, but certainly with a degree of charm, frequently in a common-or-garden English sort of way. Seriously undermined if she doesn’t end up with a man – what else is she there for?

Cherwell’s pick: ‘Adelaide’, Guys and Dolls

Ruffs, make-up and boys in drag: when we think about Shakespeare productions through history, the notion of all-male casts and all their trappings is bound to come to mind. But this is not a directorial decision that has been consigned to the annals of theatrical past: all-male productions continue to be staged today, often with great success. An acclaimed current example is the man extravaganza that is Propeller, which has even managed to work in bits and pieces of Beyoncé to heighten the theatrical experience. Contemporary revivals of this casting choice are sometimes attributed to ‘authenticity’ (although the authentic tradition of bear baiting in the interval always seems to get overlooked), or for the sheer energy and testosterone that it can bring to the more masculine of Shakespeare’s plays. 

But what about the other side? Are all-female Shakespeare productions ‘a thing’? It certainly happens, but does it work?  Many of Shakespeare’s plays are characterised as being overwhelmingly masculine – they are stories of military campaigns and political intrigue, with the female characters often represented as concerned wives or trophies of war.  And from a feminist perspective, some of these roles are deeply, deeply problematic: take novice nun Isabella, from Measure for Measure, who is eventually married off after five acts of resistance without so much as a by-your-leave. But how do these characterisations affect all-female renditions of Shakespeare’s greats? You’d hope that these would present a more nuanced representation of the work, with  a female perspective on imperial power, honour or truth. Unfortunately, the opposite is true: these all-female productions have a terrible habit of being somewhat lacklustre.

An all-female production of Julius Caesar set the play in a playground, between squabbling schoolgirls. It’s an interesting idea, but one that may appear to many to be missing the point – can schoolyard hierachy adequately convey the play’s exploration of imperial power? Some attribute resistance to the idea of women playing these sorts of roles to an ingrained societal prejudice against the idea of women holding political power. Equally though, Shakespeare’s plays are a product of their time – a time of rigid gender roles – of course there are strong women, but they still all end up in the same place. 

Having said that, we are not without a handful of exceptional cases of cross casting – Hamlet being  an  excellent  example. The first female Hamlet, Sarah Bernhardt, appeared in 1899, to rave reviews.  Actors have been discovering new aspects of the Danish Prince for generations; as Oscar Wilde said, there is no ‘Shakespeare’s Hamlet’.

With a character so famed for being open to interpretation and reinvention, it would be absurdly reductive to halve the number of potential players.  A female Hamlet could indeed be able to discover hidden depths in this seemingly inexhaustible character, but the individual performance will always be more important than the actor’s gender. Opening Shakespeare’s greatest characters up to women doubles the number of exceptional individuals who can play those parts, and potentially the number of innovative interpretations.

Does this mean that cross casting Shakespeare should be taken up with gusto? Maybe. Sometimes it is out of sheer necessity – as many Oxford directors will know, finding enough theatrical young men to fill all the parts demanded can be a struggle. But necessity often breeds creativity, and these cross-cast productions have, in recent years, made for fascinating interpretations of classic texts.