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‘Technologies of capture’: Ben Lerner’s ‘Transcription’ Reviewed

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CW: Disordered eating.

As an Oxford student, I often think it would be nice to have fewer screens in my life. No more phone, no more tablet – I’d rid myself of these pointless objects and live life to the fullest, rapturously taking in every note of birdsong, every tree, every tiny vein on every leaf of every tree. I’d be fully engaged with the world instead of aimlessly googling whatever happens to come to my mind at any moment of the day. Most importantly, I might even finish my degree. I’d become a productivity machine.

On the other hand, maybe it would be a kind of living hell. This is a possibility that Ben Lerner’s short new book, Transcription (2026), raises. The book opens with the unnamed narrator travelling to interview his academic mentor and 90-year-old intellectual superstar, Thomas, for a magazine. In the hotel he’s staying in, just before he’s due to meet Thomas, he knocks his phone into the sink. Cue lots of panicking about how he’s not going to be able to record the interview – FOMO of the very worst kind. And yet he’s too embarrassed to simply say, “I knocked my phone into the sink and so I can’t record you”, and instead thinks up a semi-elaborate lie as to why their first meeting should merely be a preparation for the real interview. Not only that, though, the narrator’s lack of a phone makes him less attentive, not more. “Shamefully unresponsive to the old media that surrounded me”, as he puts it. “Paintings, analogue photographs, a vinyl record spinning somewhere in my mentor’s house.” He has the opportunity to engage with all these things, but all he wants to do is check his emails. A bit like me when I’m ‘working’.

Lerner, who is somewhat of a literary superstar, at least in the US, is not afraid to take on the big themes. In Transcription, we find not only the question of “technologies of capture”, in the narrator’s words, but also, in no necessary order of importance: paternal abandonment, dementia, anorexia, suicide, Covid, the generation gap and euthanasia, often all mixed into the same page. It’s a lot to take on, and it’s not always entirely clear what each of these elements is doing, other than to add a certain seriousness to proceedings. And yet there’s something hypnotic about Lerner’s trim and often surprisingly hilarious prose, which keeps you reading on.

And the question the book raises is an interesting one, even if everybody has been asking it for a long time now. Are our screens good for us – an infinite source of knowledge which I’d once have had to traipse to the Radcam and read actual books to get – or are they gradually destroying our souls and our ability to connect with the world and even with each other? One of the strengths of Transcription is that it doesn’t give a definitive answer to this. It’s not a coincidence that Thomas’s anorexic granddaughter only finally starts to eat food once she has the distracting, soothing effect of as much screen time as she could possibly want. “Dad, I want you to cut me an apple”, she says one day as she is watching endless ASMR unboxing videos on YouTube. For her and also for her highly privileged parents, screen time is the greatest of blessings, far more so than books, a university education, and all the organic berries and grassfed beef their money brings them. 

In complicating rather than answering the question, the book is very much a work of fiction, and indeed, fiction is another of Lerner’s themes. People experience different technologies in different ways, some good, some bad, some in between, but one idea the book raises is that there’s a parallel between our screen-dominated lives and fiction. When the narrator is accused of falsifying what becomes his famous interview with Thomas, the charge against him is that of turning the interview into fiction, as a “defence against the reality of losing” his mentor. Fiction as escape, fiction as a kind of reconstructed, mediated reality. Thought of in this way, it’s not clear how much difference there is between fiction and our permanently online world – or whether the one can really be that much worse than the other.

Not unrelatedly, the book also suggests that maybe there isn’t that much difference between a life which is mediated by screens and one which isn’t. Screens have constructed an alternate reality, one in which we quite literally live online, in the same digital house as millions of others, relating to each other in seemingly peculiar ways, hating them, loving them, completely misunderstanding them. But even when the people in Lerner’s book aren’t connected to one another via their phones or tablets, their world is a messy, incomprehensible place. People talk past each other, people forget who it is they’re talking to, people constantly worry about how others are perceiving them. In other words, the ‘real’ world isn’t any more appealing than the online world, precisely because it isn’t all that different. Where exactly this leaves us on the screen question is difficult to know. And what it means for my degree, I’ve got no idea. But I think that I’ll stick to my devices for now.

The post ‘Technologies of capture’: Ben Lerner’s ‘Transcription’ Reviewed appeared first on Cherwell.



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Student Life

Oxford, and the ongoing appeal of the literary canon

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I remember my tutor asking us if we thought our literature options were broad enough at the end of an Italian tutorial last term. This question really stuck with me: not because I have a clear answer (I still don’t – could a reading list ever actually be broad enough?), but because, surely, whether I thought so or not, Oxford would continue to teach the same novels that it has been teaching for hundreds of years

As a Modern Languages student at Oxford – a primarily literature-focused course – I am no stranger to reading lists built around canonical authors. In theory, we are given freedom within a reading list; we choose, to some extent, the works that we want to study (though of course these include Dante and Petrarch). It would be, as I answered my tutor’s question, easy to describe our literature options as broad. After all, I have managed to study female authors without having to choose a specific ‘women writers’ topic. And yet these choices are already framed by the same set of already-established works. The range of choices may appear to be wide, but its boundaries are clear. 

In reality, while they seem to be fairly inclusive, our reading lists are composed entirely of works that form part of the literary canon – works deemed ‘essential’ and of the highest quality, historically chosen by a narrow and influential elite. These are the books that our tutors studied, as did the scholars teaching them, with their authority only accumulating over time. This status seems to justify their quality: they are good because they are famous, and famous because they are good. With this assumption, though, comes the question of whether we have inherited the habit of valuing these canonical works, rather than that of analysing and questioning them ourselves. 

There is a certain pressure to enjoy the classics at Oxford, especially given our university’s emphasis on tradition, and yet I have found myself writing essays on novels that I didn’t actually like. Enjoying the texts feels like a marker of intellect, seriousness, and taste, while failure to do so is accompanied by a sense of guilt and a suspicion that I’m just not clever enough to “get it”. 

I wonder whether our admiration of these books and the appeal of the canon itself is genuine or just learned. Appreciation of the canon can become performative, something that is expressed rather than felt. I myself have avoided expressing opinions on novels I’ve studied here (in all honesty, I am not a fan of Sand’s Indiana, nor of Ginzburg’s Lessico famigliare): there is a certain awkwardness that arises in a tutorial when someone says that they didn’t like a set text, one which I would much rather avoid. 

Oxford’s relationship with tradition only exacerbates the idea that the canon has endured because of its status: studying here comes with a continual awareness that we are not only reading a selection of texts, but the same novels that have been studied here for decades. There’s a sense of continuity, a link to the past – we are partaking in an intellectual conversation that began years ago. The canon, through our reading lists, is continually pushed onto us, and it can be difficult to form our own opinions on these novels away from the appreciation that is expected from us. When we read a classic, we are aware of its status even before we begin to develop our own opinions; they come with an implicit weight and an expectation of depth, of importance. Our response is shaped before we start to read, which we then do according to this expectation.

So does the canon only endure because we’ve learned not to question it, or is it actually because of the merit of the texts themselves? The canon isn’t simply imposed and followed – its works are (or at least most of the time) there for a reason, and I won’t pretend that I don’t love studying the majority of the works that comprise my degree. The same novels have often remained so influential and so widely read not only because of tradition, but because they continue to offer something to their readers. As a Languages student, reading texts in the original and finally understanding one of Petrarch’s sonnets or a canto of the Divina Commedia provides an intellectual satisfaction that is hard to replicate elsewhere. Though it can sometimes be difficult to separate authority from quality, in most cases, canonical and classic works are genuinely well-written. We have standards for everything else, so why wouldn’t we for books? And I think that’s why the canon is so hard to reject: it’s not just elitism and snobbiness, but its works have genuine appeal. 

It’s easy to think that the canon endures only because of tradition, and because we are taught that it should, but perhaps it continues to hold so much weight because it continues to persuade us. Even as we are encouraged to question it – as I myself was in my recent tutorial – we find ourselves not only guided to but drawn to it. Maybe it has continued for so long just on status alone, but to say this takes away from the genuine appeal that a lot of its works have.

Since I have been considering this tension, I’ve become less interested in whether the canon deserves its status and more in how I respond to its texts. We can approach the canon with both scepticism and appreciation, and doubt about the canon’s prestige can coexist with a genuine enjoyment of its books.



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Plans for new Oxford graduate college approved

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Oxford City Council has approved plans for a new postgraduate medical college in Headington. The plans also include a mental health hospital and a modern facility for brain sciences research, forming a new Warneford Park development centred on mental health and brain research.  

The proposal, led by the Oxford University Hospitals Trust in collaboration with the University of Oxford, was approved on 21st April. Permission, however, is not officially issued until details of the conditions are agreed with the council. Once official, phased delivery of the new campus will take place over the next ten years, with healthcare, research, and teaching provision to continue throughout construction. 

The new college will be known as Radcliffe College, the first University of Oxford college to be located in Headington, and will admit postgraduate medical students. Plans for the development of the college include restoring the Grade II-listed Warneford Hospital building, which will form the centre of the college. 

Radcliffe College will be the first new University of Oxford college founded since Reuben College was established, marking a relatively rare expansion in the University’s collegiate system. 

The site is expected to provide newly-built accommodation for around 250 students, including graduates, DPhil, and postdoctoral researchers in medicine, life sciences, medical engineering, and other related subjects. Researchers and clinicians who currently have no college affiliation are also expected to find teaching roles and membership at the new college. 

The plans have drawn criticism from local residents and councillors, particularly over proposals to increase parking provision on the site by more than 50%. Some have described the changes as “egregious” and “catastrophic”, raising concerns about traffic, environmental damage to Warneford Meadow, and the impact on children travelling to nearby schools.

The new mental health hospital would replace the current 200-year-old Warneford Hospital, which has been deemed no longer fit to provide modern clinical facilities. 

The 200th anniversary of mental health care at the Warnerford Hospital will be commemorated with an exhibition scheduled to take place at the Museum of Oxford, over the summer, on the Hospital’s history. As part of the program of events for the anniversary, there will also be a new play performed at the Old Fire Station theatre which will focus on those who lived at the institution.

The centre is set to cost £750 million and will focus on mental health and brain sciences, forming a major medical research and innovation facility. Combining Oxford’s two Biomedical Research Centres, the research on brain sciences is projected to create an annual growth opportunity for the UK of over £1 billion.

Oxford University has been approached for a comment.



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Honorary Degree recipients announced for 2026

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The University of Oxford has announced its 2026 honorary degree recipients, with seven individuals to be conferred with degrees at the Encaenia ceremony on 24th June. 

The honourees come from a wide variety of careers. Those awarded include former world number one tennis player Billie Jean King; economist and Nobel Laureate Professor Daniel Acemoglu; and former chief executive of GSK, Dame Emma Walmsley DBE. They are joined by dancer and choreographer Carlos Acosta CBE; biochemist Professor Katalan Karikó  and Nobel Laureate Professor Shuji Nakamura; and Emmy nominated filmmaker and historian Henry Louis Gates Jr.

The University has been granting honorary degrees since the 1400s, whilst the Encaenia ceremony can be dated back to the 16th century, assuming its current form around 1760. 

Recipient Billy Jean King won 39 Grand Slam singles, doubles and mixed doubles titles, including winning a record 20 Wimbledon championships. She is also known for campaigning to equalise prize money in professional competitions across both womens’ and mens’ professional championships. Carlos Acosta was awarded a CBE in 2014 and retired from Classical Ballet in 2016, but continued to choreograph and perform.

Professor Acemoglu was awarded the Nobel Prize for Economics in 2024 alongside two others for “studies of how institutions are formed and affect prosperity”.  Fellow recipient Professor Nakamura was also awarded a Nobel Prize, for Physics in 2014, for emitting energy-saving efficient blue light-emitting diodes, whilst Professor Karikó won a Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine for discoveries enabling nucleoside-modified mRNA vaccines.

Dame Walmsley worked at GSK for 15 years and served as Chief Executive Officer of GSK for 9 years, retiring in December 2025. She is joined on the list of honourees by Henry Louis Gates Jr, known for his work as a literary critic, professor and history, as well as a literary critic. Gates was nominated for an Emmy Award for “Exceptional Merit in Documentary Filmmaking”  in 2022 for his work as Executive Producer for the documentary Frederik Douglas: In Five Speeches.

Honorary degree recipients are recognised for their distinction in their field or service to society. Previous honorees include former US Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, former Chilean President Michelle Bachelet, and Monty Python comedian Sir Michael Palin. Decisions on recipients of honorary degrees are made by a selection committee. Encaenia 2026 comes after Lord Hague awarded eight honorary degrees in February this year in a Special Honorary Degree Ceremony to celebrate the beginning of Lord Hague’s term as Chancellor at the University. 

The ceremony involves the heads of colleges, university dignitaries and holders of Oxford doctoral degrees in Divinity, Civil Law, Medicine, Letters, Science, and Music. The honourees assemble and walk in procession to the Sheldonian Theatre. There, they are introduced by the Public Orator with a speech in Latin, and finally granted their new degrees by the Chancellor, Lord William Hague. Students at the University may attend the ceremony, with tickets released on  5th May. 



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