Oxford is many things. But it has a symbolic meaning well beyond its buildings, gardens, rituals and teaching. It stands for something deep in the Anglo-Saxon mind - excellence, a kind of privilege, a charmed life, deep-veined liberalism, a respect for tradition. Cartwright has spoken to many leading figures, looked at favourite places in Oxford, subjected himself to an English tutorial - he performed very poorly - attended the Freshers' dinner in his old college, studied various works of art and museums, investigated the claim that dons like detective novels, and reread many Oxford classics.At the same time, he has looked at some of the great debates which made Oxford what it is, as well as the most recent debate about funding, which ended in a resounding defeat for the reformers. He depicts the beauty of this historic city, the landscape of enclosed quads and gardens, and the astonishing collection of buildings. Cartwright concludes that the Oxford myth, while outstripping the reality, is as powerful as ever. This is an enchanting and highly original look at Oxford, indispensable reading for anyone interested in the myth and reality of Oxford.
Justin Cartwright (born 1945) is a British novelist.
He was born in South Africa, where his father was the editor of the Rand Daily Mail newspaper, and was educated there, in the United States and at Trinity College, Oxford. Cartwright has worked in advertising and has directed documentaries, films and television commercials. He managed election broadcasts, first for the Liberal Party and then the SDP-Liberal Alliance during the 1979, 1983 and 1987 British general elections. For his work on election broadcasts, Cartwright was appointed an MBE.
A self-indulgent memoir that didn't live upto the blurb on the back cover. I was hoping for more detailed physical descriptions of Oxford the city and less of a glance back at the author's student days. One or two mildly interesting passages but ultimately too boring for me to recommend. Will never read again.
This Secret Garden is not a book about Oxford and would probably disappoint anybody opening it with an expectation to learn about the city. It is a book explaining why we remember Oxford in certain way, foolishly sticking to nostalgia for youth, and a city which, altough unchanged, belongs to someone else already.
"From the moment I arrived at Trinity College ... I was in love with Oxford. ...I felt as though I had always known the place, or some simulacrum of it, in another parallel life. After I left I could hardly bear to go back: it was as if nobody else should take possession of this place that had meant so much to me, in fact formed me. I was almost embarrassed by how easily and totally I had been seduced. It took me nearly two years to get over the desolation of having to live in London."
But there also is a lot of bittersweet thoughts risen by return. The Oxford we did not (care to) know, the meaning of its history, the privile we failed to to recognise, the pretentiousness concealed as tradition.
At first I wanted to say that this book was solipsistic, but in a good way. But now I'm not so sure. The book is about Oxford, not Justin Cartwright, but he nevertheless loves Oxford so much, and sees so much of himself in his former university, that its hard not to see this as a little solipsistic - but in a good way.
This is not a comprehensive history or guidebook to Oxford but rather Justin Cartwright’s memories of the town and university and chronicle of his visits to people and places there. Although it is not comprehensive in its view of the university it is a very individualistic and personal portrait and while it drags a bit at times and strays into some of Cartwright’s personal interests, there is enough that anyone interested in the city will, I believe, be glad that they’ve read it. One mistake I found unforgivable, however, is the reference to “Evelyn Waugh’s Algernon” when discussing John Betjeman’s teddy bear, Archie, when he means Sebastian Flyte’s teddy bear Aloysius. How this error made it into a book which recalls Waugh’s great novel of Oxford in its title would appear to be a great mystery. Perhaps it’s best to return to the source material for the fullest possible understanding of this storied English place.
This was a good book on Oxford, but not one of the best that I've read. The author tried to convey how much his time at Oxford meant to him and how it had shaped his life. It was obvious that this was a significant time in his life, but he could have written about that alone more persuasively. I really didn't enjoy the many ramblings on Isaiah Berlin, for instance. Where he did excel, however, was in writing about the many unique aspects of an Oxford education: the tutorials, relationships with dons, and the college system. I also enjoyed his passages on walking around Oxford, because I could visualize every place in my head. He was definitely right about one thing: once you leave Oxford, no matter how many times you revisit, you'll never have what you had as a student there. It can never be duplicated. Overall, an enjoyable book.
Many years after "going down" (graduating) from Oxford University, the author returns to the City of Dreaming Spires to reflect on the place that the university has in his mind, as well as the popular imagination. This is a deeply reflective and strongly intellectual piece of work--I recommend reading this only when you have a fair amount of time to savor (and try to comprehend) the writing, and a dictionary to understand many of the words. Because it's of a pretty high intellectual caliber, this is not the easiest or smoothest read, but it is certainly a beautiful read, and informative, too.
A thankfully short book of recollection. A jumbled hotch potch of name dropping and wistful memories of the happy times of youth and the prestige of being an Oxford man. Undecided whether to be an outsider (due to his South African birth) or a worshipper of the louche exclusivity that he seeks to convey that is and was his experience of Oxford.
I'm on page 70 after picking this up yesterday at Blackwell's. If you don't mind its lack of structure (it wanders) and you don't mind someone mythologizing his life or this school, then it's a good read. I love the tidbits about Berlin.
I thought I was the soppiest Oxfordophile. I now give Justin Cartwright the trophy. A South African, like me, who attended Oxford in the sixties, here extols the beauties, myths, and secrets of this lauded city - the "Lourdes of England."
I wasn't a big fan of this book. Stylistically it's very well written, but it's a book about Oxford the university not the city. Despite the author's best attempts Oxford, however beautiful and historical, comes across as a bit out of touch and elitist.