Esther Ofarim

Stunned. Rubbled. 

UCAS: How NOT to Do It.

The other day I wrote and posted a fictional example of what I would really want to see in the UCAS personal statement of a candidate applying to read English at Oxbridge: the kind that makes us prick up our ears and anticipate an applicant of high quality and obvious talent. The main desiderata are: evidence of wide reading, an inquiring intelligence, critical skills, and curiosity. You can read it here.

I had a quick google and found hundreds of websites purportedly showing you how to put a personal statement together. Dismayingly, the ones for English were uniformly horrible; precious, pretentious, and content-light. Alas, I must report that this accurately reflects a high proportion of the sort of material Oxford receives every year, which fairly often are poorly spelled, ill-punctuated, or simply incoherent. So, again, I've written a wholly fictional example of how NOT to do it. I've probably read several hundred of these things, and a significant minority (a third? half?) actually are just like this. But to repeat: this is impressionistic, entirely authored by me, and not based on the work of any actual applicants. Unfortunately, it's also not in the least exaggerated, and though it makes for depressing reading I hope that someone out there will find it useful.

Miss Sandy Leah Muffett: PERSONAL STATEMENT

Since I became intrigued by the harrowing, callous, almost inconceivable horror of the brutality of the Holocaust when I was a  tiny child, I have been filled with a coruscating passion to study English literature. I read 'The Diary of Anne Frank' and its poignancy has shown me how English literature compells us to advance our morals and those of society. Intrigued and fascinated in addition by the broken numbness of poems such as Sylvia Plath's which i have enjoyed unpicking to see what they really mean, I have become more and more convinced that my destiny is to study English, where I intend to examine all the ramifications of indifference and man's inhumanity to man. I would deeply relish the chance to write about and discuss texts with people with similar enthusiasms.

I am very interested indeed in symbolism and metaphor in Literature, as in the poems of Carol Ann Duffy. This can likewise be noted in the poems of Jackie Kay, in which she tries to articulate what it was like to be adopted as a Lesbian. We are forced to empathise with a child's emotions and her perspective on the things which happen to her so that a child's perspective can effectively manipulate the reader's emotions. To me all Literature and especially Poetry is an intensely personal thing which is capable of carrying feelings more deeply and conveying them better than any other, which I see especially in Stephen King, whose utilisation of metaphor and imagery impresses me deeply.

I am an enthusiastic actress in my schools' musicals and this year I have written and will direct and star in the sixth form Revue. I also run a creative writing Club for younger Students and have recently attained my Duke of Edinburgh's Award (Bronze) which required me to work at weekends in an Old People's Home and to orienteer from Huntingdon to Abington. I found this an immensely rewarding experience which gave me an insight into the kind of strength of character we see in classic characters like 'Jane Eyre', and other classic characters. In particular Danny Boyle's 'Frankenstein' which drew links with my study of the Gothic.

My various interests all come together in a love of words---words which are the best way to understand the experience of people living in past eras, and the way I spend much of my time outside of formal Education is in Reading. On a personal level I am diligent and highly focussed, witness my Grade 8 ballet and the great deal of knowledge I have gained from my History and Geography AS, knowledge which has enthralled me with the 'Otherness' of different Societies. I can think of nothing I would enjoy or benefit from more than being part of a thriving intellectual community in which i could take my study of English to the highest level. I would cherish the chance to be considered by you.

Commentary

Miss Sandy Leah Muffett: PERSONAL STATEMENT

'Miss'? Is it 1809?

Since I became intrigued by the harrowing, callous, almost inconceivable horror of the brutality of the Holocaust when I was a  tiny child,

First of all: what?! Second of all: WHAAAT?! Are we supposed to think Miss Muffett is an aspiring intellectual because of a cheap Holocaust reference? Poor taste. And WTF is the 'tiny child' stuff about? Are we supposed to believe this person was reading Hannah Arendt in her playpen?!

 I have been filled with a coruscating passion to study English literature. 

Spare us the flowery adjectives.

I read 'The Diary of Anne Frank' and its poignancy has shown me how English literature compells us to advance our morals and those of society. 

Does it now...Incidentally, that tragic document wasn't written in English.

Intrigued and fascinated in addition by the broken numbness of poems such as Sylvia Plath's which i have enjoyed unpicking to see what they really mean, 

Poems are, and mean, what they say: they are constituted by the language the poet deploys. They aren't a kind of code you have to crack to extract some banality. And which poems of Sylvia Plath?! Do all of them display numb brokenness? What even is that?!

I have become more and more convinced that my destiny is to study English, where I intend to examine all the ramifications of indifference and man's inhumanity to man.

Grandiose, inflated, meaningless...

 I would deeply relish the chance to write about and discuss texts with people with similar enthusiasms.

'Relish' is a condiment. Keep it out of your UCAS form.

I am very interested indeed in symbolism and metaphor in Literature,

Wayward capitalisation...pointless 'indeed'...plus the heartsink feeling that the candidate would be unable to answer the question 'what is metaphor, then?' if I asked it in interview.

 as in the poems of Carol Ann Duffy. This can likewise be noted in the poems of Jackie Kay, in which she tries to articulate what it was like to be adopted as a Lesbian. 

Says NOTHING about Duffy. More wayward caps. Clunky venture into politics and identity. Kay wasn't 'adopted as a lesbian' (or even a 'Lesbian')---she was adopted as a child who grew up to be gay and who occasionally writes about it.

We are forced to empathise with a child's emotions and her perspective on the things which happen to her so that a child's perspective can effectively manipulate the reader's emotions. 

A meaningless and convoluted sentence which rereading should have picked up. 'Forced'? And what about the jingling repetition of 'child', 'perspective' and 'emotions'? The applicant is not convincing me that they can pay close attention to language....

To me all literature and especially poetry is an intensely personal thing which is capable of carrying feelings more deeply and conveying them better than any other, which I see especially in Stephen King, whose utilisation of metaphor and imagery impresses me deeply. 

Where to begin? Questions I might ask about this gloriously dim statement: 'Does poetry never play a public, political role, if it's so intensely personal?' 'Can prose not convey deep emotion too?' And don't even bother mentioning Stephen King when applying for one of the most intense and challenging English Literature degrees in the world.

I am an enthusiastic actress in my schools' musicals and this year I have written and will direct and star in the sixth form Revue. I also run a creative writing club for younger students and have recently attained my Duke of Edinburgh's Award (Bronze) which required me to work at weekends in an Old People's Home and to orienteer from Huntingdon to Abington. 

COMPLETELY IRRELEVANT. 

I found this an immensely rewarding experienced which gave me an insight into the kind of strength of character we see in classic characters like 'Jane Eyre', and other classic characters. 

So wandering over a fen with a compass and a soggy cheese sandwich helped you to understand the nineteenth cent...oh, never mind. More poor, repetitive, meaningless phrasing.

In particular Danny Boyle's 'Frankenstein' which drew links with my study of the Gothic.

Not a sentence. Frankenstein is by Mary Shelley: no distinction drawn between the novel and the theatrical adaptation. (Does the applicant realise they are different?) And what does the vague, spongy 'drew links with' mean? No sign of critical acuity here.

My various interests all come together in a love of words---words which are the best way to understand the experience of people living in past eras, and the way I spend much of my time outside of formal Education is in Reading. 

For someone who purportedly loves words there is little evidence that the applicant can deploy them. Wayward capitalisation leads to another clanger: Reading has a lovely shopping centre though...

On a personal level I am diligent and highly focussed, 

To quote Orlando: 'I find no evidence of that in your conversation'.

witness my Grade 8 ballet and the great deal of knowledge I have gained from my History and Geography AS, 

She's clearly never read an article on grade inflation if she thinks an AS imparts a 'great deal' of knowledge...

knowledge which has enthralled me with the 'Otherness' of different Societies.

I bet that if I ask "what do you mean by 'Otherness'?" the applicant won't be able to tell me. Note: I'm not expecting the ability to discuss Lévinas here.

 I can think of nothing I would enjoy or benefit from more than being part of a thriving intellectual community in which i could take my study of English to the highest level. 

I can.

I would cherish the chance to be considered by you.

Sigh. The trouble is we would probably interview this candidate: she would score poorly for this UCAS statement, but the ELAT test and the essay sent in might both do reasonably well, pushing her by force of mathematics above the parapet beneath we we do not summon for interview. (Unless she is the first person in her family to apply for university or if she comes from a 'deprived' school, in which case Oxford interviews automatically.) But, to be frank, this type of statement---simultaneously self-promoting and vapid---is characteristic of white, middle class, goodish-school mediocrities. Dismally, it is entirely possible for the kind of applicant who writes this badly to have 11 A*s at GCSE and to come garlanded with teachers' praises.

UCAS Personal Statement

I've just spent the day doing Open Day meetings with potential applicants to my college for English, who were quite naturally particularly anxious about what to put on the UCAS Personal Statement. I thought I'd do something constructive and show what I would actually like to see from a sixth-form student applying to read English. So here's a fantasy UCAS form, with a commentary explaining why it is as eye-catching as it is. Just to be clear: I wrote this myself in the style that a VERY good Oxbridge applicant might just about muster. This represents the work of no actual candidate, and is merely one individual don's view of the features which would announce an applicant to be potentially top-drawer.

* * *

Jo Hertford: PERSONAL STATEMENT

Reading literature is my passion, and I'm keen to study English in order to broaden and deepen my knowledge and my engagement with literary cultures.

At school I've been studying Othello, and as an AS psychology student I was particularly struck by the range of emotional and psychic extremes in the play: Othello's induced jealousy and insecurity (very different from that of Leontes in The Winter's Tale), Desdemonda's hero-worship, Iago's terrifying manipulativeness and bleak sociopathy. I've become aware of how intricately these emotional contours are tied to and constituted by the different registers of language: when Othello tells Desdemona about his adventures, the bombastic language echoes Marlowe; as he smothers her, it anticipates Milton in its mixture of learned polysyllables and stern monosyllables. I've not seen Othello on the stage but I have had some exposure to Shakespeare live by visiting the Globe Theatre. Last year I saw The Tempest and I followed this up by reading the play and watching two very different film adaptations of Shakespeare's text: the painterly Prospero's Books by Peter Greenaway, which I found confusing though beautiful, and Julie Taymor's version with Helen Mirren as a gender-switched 'Prospera', which I felt was the less artistically successful of the two.

Beyond Shakespeare, I've tried to increase my exposure to poetry in English. In school I've read Carol Ann Duffy but also some of D. H. Lawrence's poetry, in which I found the mixture of vivid images with a prosy, structureless style fascinating but frustrating. I've also read Derek Walcott's Omeros for A2 and I was interested in the way that it rewrites---indeed, radically reimagines---Homer, and so is itself a kind of epic of Caribbean identity, a recursive transplantation of a great western classic. (I'm aware that critics have also seen The Tempest as an early postcolonial text, with Caliban, who gets the most beautiful verse in the play, as a kind of enslaved native.) I've also read Wuthering Heights, which startled me with its constant violence (child mutilation, casual animal cruelty). I was interested to see that level of turbulence and brutality enclosed, 'nested' really, within a narrative structure of remarkable complexity and overlapping voices. To find out more about the Brontes I read Jane Eyre (and watched the recent adaptation), and then from that I went on to Jean Rhys's Wide Sargasso Sea---a novel which makes the (once again) Caribbean postcolonial subtext of Jane Eyre terrifyingly explicit. I'm currently reading Hilary Mantel's Bring up the Bodies, which chimes well with my A2 study of Tudor history though I find the immersive first-person voice difficult to follow at times.

I'm conscious that some of the courses for which I've applied emphasise full period-coverage; I've not had much exposure to medieval English literature yet, so I find this an exciting prospect. Last Christmas (fittingly enough in snowy weather) I read Simon Armitage's translation of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, and the beautiful, ironic perfection of the poem's structure---as well as its vivid picture of slightly callow courtly life---impressed me deeply. I went on to get Jane Draycott's exquisite version of Pearl by the same poet, and though I got a lot from Bernard O'Donoghue's introduction I'm sure I was missing the deeper implications of this mysterious work, so I'd love to study it in the original.

In extracurricular terms I like singing and acting and going to the cinema; I'm an outgoing person and likely to flourish in a friendly and close-knit place. I'd be very grateful if you would consider my application.

* * *

Commentary

Jo Hertford: PERSONAL STATEMENT

Reading literature is my passion, and I'm keen to study English in order to broaden and deepen my knowledge and my engagement with literary cultures.

Completely straightforward, unshowy, and reasonable statement of fact. No artificial attempt to grab the reader's attention or impress, which usually backfires and sounds histrionic or vapid. ('Since I was a foetus I've been filled with a coruscating passion for English literature...')

At school I've been studying Othello, and as an AS psychology student I was particularly struck by the range of emotional and psychic extremes in the play: Othello's induced jealousy and insecurity (very different from that of Leontes in The Winter's Tale), Desdemonda's hero-worship, Iago's terrifying manipulativeness and bleak sociopathy.

Gets straight on with it. Attractively written, alerts us to other AS/A2s beyond English and shows that the applicant can think about the links between subjects. Unusual Shakespeare play dropped in, and rather sweetly demonstrates in parentheses the crucial ability to make thoughtful comparisons BETWEEN plays. Lots of potential questions here.

 I've become aware of how intricately these emotional contours are tied to and constituted by the different registers of language: when Othello tells Desdemona about his adventures, the bombastic language echoes Marlowe; as he smothers her, it anticipates Milton in its mixture of learned polysyllables and stern monosyllables. 

Ties it down to language and intimate knowledge of the play; the observations come from Harold Bloom, but the candidate has the sense not to mention him.

I've not seen Othello on the stage but I have had some exposure to Shakespeare live by visiting the Globe Theatre. 

Anticipates obvious question.

Last year I saw The Tempest and I followed this up by reading the play and watching two very different film adaptations of Shakespeare's text: the painterly Prospero's Books by Peter Greenaway, which I found confusing though beautiful, and Julie Taymor's version with Helen Mirren as a gender-switched 'Prospera', which I felt was the less artistically successful of the two.

Striking: shows excellent engagement and capacity for extracurricular reading. Lovely to hear about adaptations of Shakespeare and the plays in performance. Nicely directs us to questions the candidate would like to answer. ('Tell us more about why you thought...')

Beyond Shakespeare, 

aware of importance of variety

I've tried to increase my exposure to poetry in English. In school I've read Carol Ann Duffy but also some of D. H. Lawrence's poetry, in which I found the mixture of vivid images with a prosy, structureless style fascinating but frustrating.

Interesting, unusual: gone from Shakespeare to the 20th century: bearing out the earlier comment about breadth.

 I've also read Derek Walcott's Omeros for A2 and I was interested in the way that it rewrites---indeed, radically reimagines---Homer, and so is itself a kind of epic of Caribbean identity, a recursive transplantation of a great western classic. (I'm aware that critics have also seen The Tempest as an early postcolonial text, with Caliban, who gets the most beautiful verse in the play, as a kind of enslaved native.) 

Well written: shows the candidate has read a very unusual text, anticipates obvious question ('How does it adapt Homer and why?'), and also shows that the candidate is capable of reading either the introduction to her Arden text of The Tempest or looking at the wikipedia page. Demonstration of awareness of critical traditions.

I've also read Wuthering Heights, which startled me with its constant violence (child mutilation, casual animal cruelty). I was interested to see that level of turbulence and brutality enclosed, 'nested' really, within a narrative structure of remarkable complexity and overlapping voices. 

Away from drama and poetry to the novel: again, wide-ranging and engaged. Lifts us out of the level of plot-recitation by commenting on narrative structure.

To find out more about the Brontes I read Jane Eyre (and watched the recent adaptation), and then from that I went on to Jean Rhys's Wide Sargasso Sea---a novel which makes the (once again) Caribbean postcolonial subtext of Jane Eyre terrifyingly explicit. 

Capable of following own intellectual lead: more novels, awareness of intertextuality. (Also demonstrated in discussion of Omeros.) Evidently a wide reader: excellent.

I'm currently reading Hilary Mantel's Bring up the Bodies, which chimes well with my A2 study of Tudor history though I find the immersive first-person voice difficult to follow at times.

Keeps abreast of contemporary literature; links between subjects studied again.

I'm conscious that some of the courses for which I've applied emphasise full period-coverage; 

capable of reading a website...

I've not had much exposure to medieval English literature yet, 

Sweet! And honest, without great reams of self-promotion...

so I find this an exciting prospect. Last Christmas (fittingly enough in snowy weather) I read Simon Armitage's translation of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, and the beautiful, ironic perfection of the poem's structure---as well as its vivid picture of slightly callow courtly life---

very observant

impressed me deeply. I went on to get Jane Draycott's exquisite version of Pearl by the same poet, and though I got a lot from Bernard O'Donoghue's introduction I'm sure I was missing the deeper implications of this mysterious work, so I'd love to study it in the original.

Humble, and yet learned and observant. Has now demonstrated reading in four periods, in multiple genres, an ability to write, clear analytical power, and an attention to the way texts reflect or speak to one another. Exemplary.

In extracurricular terms I like singing and acting and going to the cinema; I'm an outgoing person and likely to flourish in a friendly and close-knit place. I'd be very grateful if you would consider my application.

Keeps the non-English stuff to an absolute minimum; sensibly, as it is barely relevant to anything. Clean, adult, straight-up close, without any frothing, fawning, or flummery.

Tales

I asked the Unconscious for a dream the other day to illuminate a particular emotional problem, and promptly got back two unknown Canterbury Tales. The first---The Tale of the Tailour---was a beast-story along the lines of Androcles and the Lion. The second, The Prologue and Tale of the Clerkesse, was about my dear friend Melanie, and I can just remember some of it:

Hire shoon in sooth were redde and blakke,

And in hire scarlet ledyr sacke 

She carried Tully and eke Jherome;

And yet she wold nat goon to Rome,

But ysettled was in Chirche of Engelond,

For there had she gret joie yfond;

But for al that verray mirth and blyss

Housbonde hadde she noon, ywis...

So...that was helpful. Perhaps more will emerge.

'My cold mad father, my cold mad feary father...'

...to quote Finnegans Wake. Families are funny things. I've popped back to Canterbury for the weekend, and walked straight into a saddening row with my dear old father.

A little background. My dad is an odd fellow, and over the years I've learned---have had to learn---that the price for his splendid beholden-to-no-man, I'll-do-as-I-please eccentricity is a certain tendency to enter a bewildering state of fugue when confronted by any emotional obligation. (The minute my grandmother died, he went off to play his usual Sunday game of tennis; my mother, bereaved of her much-loved mother that very hour, was left to drive herself home from the hospital.) In other words, he will sometimes behave as if the feelings of other people close to him do not exist, and as if any attempt to argue for their claim upon his time is an outrageous form of persecution. He's also, I should add, a generous, kindly, amusing and reliable man, who loves nature and gardening; in many ways I resemble him.* I love him very much.

Anyway. On the 18th of August, my mother and father are coming to Oxford to attend a half-cousin's wedding (my grandfather's second wife's granddaughter). They are staying overnight in my college, which I've arranged, and the next morning are going to see the wonderfully-refurbished Ashmolean Museum, which is five minutes' walk away. The row happened because dad made it clear that he would not want to---and would make no plans to---'socialise' with me while they are in Oxford, despite staying in a room fifty feet from my flat: 'If you can just get us the room and the parking space, that would be great.' He was actually quite angry at the suggestion that they might walk up the stairs to have a cup of coffee with me and see my flat. (I feel rather upset writing this.) 

Further background: my mum and dad have never visited me anywhere I've lived since I left home at 18, and never expressed any desire to do so. They never saw my old house and garden in Lake St; they never visited Cambridge. And yet this time they are staying the night in the building in which I live and yet dad seems horrified by the idea of dropping in. Why?! He's always delighted to see me when I come back to the family home. 

I think I understand it a little. Like me, dad's a committed Taurean and he just really hates disruption to his routine, or (worse) any sense, as I noted above, of being obliged to take someone else's feelings into account in determining how he behaves. (My friend Bill aptly quoted Auden at me today: '...so obsessive a ritualist, / a pleasant surprise makes him cross'). He will have things on his own terms or not at all. Nevertheless, I found the idea that when I see mum and dad we are 'socializing' particularly odd, as though I cease to be their son when not chez eux, but become something between a meddling nephew and a tiresome golfing acquaintance. Talk about alienating. I find it bizarre that they had decided to stay overnight in Oxford some months ago but clearly weren't going to mention this fact to me; until I got them the room in college, the idea that they might visit me had clearly simply not occurred to them. It's all just a bit...mad, and rather reminiscent of the time I was trying to help my dad access his voicemail and found that my number is in his phone under my full name, complete with surname. I mean, wow.

I'm trying to decide how to proceed. Mum, of course, would love to see where I live and have a tour of Lazarus College; Father Williams wants to be out of there as quick as possible, ideally (and this has been made overt and explicit) without seeing me at all, even for ten minutes.

I suppose you just have to take people as they are,  don't you?


* * *


* When I got home on Saturday I went to open a door near the front of the house. 'Don't open that!!' hissed my father. 'It's full of bees.' What next? A gnu under the stairs? Clockwork Nazis in the attic?! It baffles science.

Orvillecopter

Reproduced without comment.

Normal Service

Sorry, all: I'm marking a half run of scripts for English Finals, c. 345 individual essays. It's not, in all honesty, one of the happier tasks demanded by academe, but I promise that will come to and blog again shortly. Just clinging on until the end of term here.