EDiTor’s NOterole (for me) was constantly dis-covering new things about editing, designing and printing, and I know it sounds trite but I truly do feel like I’m still at the beginning of figuring it all out.

Luckily, as the following pages stand testament to, there are plenty of talented Pembroke students whose creative responses are what Pem-broke Street really exists to showcase. Thank you so much to everyone who’s contributed to the massive diversity of material you’re about to read. I can’t think of many other places where paintings, science arti-cles and poems, all executed at such a professionally high standard, would happily stand shoulder-to-shoulder, allowing every reader to find some-thing they particularly enjoy.

This seems like as good a point as any to end on.

Enjoy!

gabrielle schwarzJPC Publications Officer

(2012-13)

Welcome to the Michaelmas 2013 edition of Pembroke Street, ‘Begin-nings’ (I know, so original)! I spent far too long trying to open with a pun on ‘in the beginning’ and ‘was the Word’ and and words and begin-nings and creation. It turns out I just don’t have the knack for puns – there goes my tabloid career.

In his book Beginnings: Intention and Method, Edward Said writes: ‘Formally, the mind wants to con-ceive a point in either time or space that marks the beginning of all things (or at least of a limited set of central things), but like Oedipus the mind risks discovering, at that point, where all things will end as well […] the beginning implies the end’. Anything can be a beginning or an ending, depending on how we frame it.

At the start (beginning) of my final (end) year at Pembroke beginnings and endings feel more than ever like one and the same. I’m coming to the end of my term as Publications Offi-cer, and the time’s come to encourage any and all Pembroke undergrads to stand in the elections to take on the role. You really don’t have to have any experience: the best bit of the

CONtenTsBEGINNING: A STORYrichard stockwell

ONCE UPON A TIMEdaisy prior

ROSE / tuscan poem / some tipscatriona grant / harry cochrane / jeremy wikeley

WELCOME TO PEMBROKE!walter myer

ON THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESShannah taylor

NEW COURTtessa peres

AN INTERN ABROADhannah kaner

NOTES FROM NEPALcharlotte chorley

MY AMERICAN DREAMneeru ravi

SCENES OF CAMBRIDGEgabrielle schwarz & abby jitendra

DISPATCHESalfie ireland

KITCHEN CORNERgeorgina feary

4567810121416182022

cover design by beth fisher

“You can’t start a story with speech,” said Tutor.

Amy was stunned. With her eleven plus exam now only two weeks away, this was shocking news. Her English mark, a place at grammar school, and the rest of her life depended on her knowing how to write an excel-lent beginning to an imaginative, well-crafted story, not to mention the middle and end.

Tutor had been engaged only re-cently, since Amy’s parents were late developers when it came to panic. It had suddenly occurred to them that Amy’s succession of primary school teachers probably knew nothing. Why, if they knew anything, had they not set up as tutors, commanding astronomical hourly rates rather than a teacher’s wage? Amy’s parents had intoned at great length that Tutor’s advice was valuable and was always to be heeded – to their daughter, to scare her into concentrating, and to each other, to justify the expense.

But Amy had taken special care to learn speech punctuation and had been rewarded with heartening green ticks for her vivid dialogue story openings all year. No talking unicorns or characters called Bob,

maybe, but this latest piece of advice warranted a challenge: “What’s wrong with starting a story with speech?”

Tutor adopted his most knowing countenance. “All children your age do it,” he said. “You need to come up with something original.”

If there was one thing a thousand literacy hours had taught Amy, it was not to begin a story with ‘One day’. Even an evocative adjective or two on the prevailing meteorological condi-tions could not save such an opening from being hopelessly unoriginal. Amy ventured this, but Tutor inter-rupted her. “Yes,” he said, “if there’s one thing primary schools manage to teach children – the ones that are teachable, at least – it’s not to begin a story with ‘One day’. By year six most open with direct speech instead – much more vivid, they think,” he said, pitching his sarcastic tone just at Amy’s level. “Think a little harder,” he offered further.

“From the outset.”

“No, too businesslike. Something else.”

“In the beginning?” asked Amy.

BeGInNing: A Story4

richard stockwell

“Too biblical.”

“I –”

“Egotistical.”

“I just can’t think of anything else.”

Tutor left her to stew.

“Once upon a time?” blurted Amy in desperation.

Tutor took a moment. “Yes, that might work,” he said, his cheeks twitching into the faintest of smiles. Amy looked blank. “It’s so unorig-inal, it’s original,” Tutor continued. “In the exam, most children will open with speech. Some of the un-teachables may persevere with ‘One day’. But nobody else will start with ‘Once upon a time’. They’re not five, and they’re not writing for toddlers. You can twist it, subvert the fairytale genre.”

Amy looked down at her planning notes. She couldn’t fathom the con-nection between a subverted fairytale genre and a forgetful schoolboy who couldn’t remember his lines in the school play. But, with her parents’ admonishments in her ears, and Tutor’s expectant eyes upon her, she began:

“Once upon a time…”

once upon a timedaisy prior

5

rosecatriona grant

6

tuscan poem iiILying in Pallanti’s fieldthe vines half shelter us. Not thatwe need shelter: the sky is clean,the moon quiet and alone justabove. Your lips are deeply sealed

until an item of forbidden fruitundoes them, seed and skinbalanced in the half light of our trust.

harry cochrane

some tips on decorating your college roomEverything, that wooden rhino, the biscuit tin,Everything will wilt and die if it is not drilledInto the wall; the faintest touch will do –

One shelf, two screws, enough room forOne line of earth to course through and makeThis china horse more stable than – Life, or that pot plant, stuck in its own little Eden;Life is embedded, and if you love this paintingIt is well worth screwing it into place –

Faces plastered to the wall will come unstuck butFaces screwed there stay that that way forever;Besides, to unpin a butterfly is to kill itTwice – life is better drilled. je

remy

wike

ley

welcome to pembroke! an Acrostic

walter myer

arties!

xcitement!

ental exhaustion and the depravity of an existence eked out between cups of coffee and the pangs of an unrelenting sense of academic inferiority.

owing 5 mornings a week because it’s too late to get out now and you love it but you hate yourself for it and you tremble in your bed at night out of the fear you’ll get bumped and bring disgrace upon the Master and Lady Dearlove.

angaroos nowhere to be seen. Where are all the kangaroos.

PEM

B ops!

R

O ntological discourse!

K

E xcitement!

NB (ed.): the writer of this acrostic is a rower, an Australian and an arts student. If you are neither a rower nor Australian nor an arts student then it is likely that many of the experiences described above will not apply to your life at Pembroke.

on The Pursuit of HaPpinesS

t-shirts, perfumes, al-cohol (Happy Hour), food packaging (Happy Meal). But is happiness really so readily available on the High Street? For consumers, happiness must only ever be fleeting: immediate gratification from purchasing a coveted item, ebbing to leave only the desire to recreate that joy. Our concept of happinessis based on desire, and we believe that these desires deserve fulfilment. In-deed, the goal of happiness is conse-crated eternally in both the American Declaration of Independence and the French Declaration of Rights of Man; historically, humanity has considered the quest for happiness a noble and worthy pursuit.

This noble quest is the focus of a

wide variety of professions and prod-ucts. A search for ‘self-help’ books on Amazon returns 223,908 results; we clearly place our wants and needs in high esteem. There are good reasons for this: scientific research has shown

that happiness can protect us from common colds and strokes, and can even increase longevity. But what evidence is there to suggest that we’re inherently entitled to contentment? Is this not an arrogant assumption?

Yet negativity, pessi-mism, morbidity are considered unnatural emotions or states that

an EsSay

require fixing. Why? Nobody envies the devastation caused by clinical depression; nonetheless, philosophers and scholars have long observed a link between genius and the extreme un-happiness of mental disorders. Ernest Becker wrote that ‘the road to creativ-ity passes so close to the madhouse and often detours or ends there’; cre-ative figures such as Plath, Woolf, Poe, Hemingway and Tolstoy are often

The human preoccupation with happiness is a weakness that our modern society exploits daily. This concept, so central to our existence, has become the magic word for mar-keting, emblazoned across billboards,

hannah taylor

8

cited to echo this sentiment. But if unhappiness is such a sure road to greatness, then why do we continue strive for its antithesis?

Happiness itself presents us with several other questions. The term is held aloft as the Holy Grail of emo-tions: is its attainment even possible, or are we blindly chasing an intangible concept? A neuro-scientist may define ‘happiness’ as the correct levels or activity of serotonin and endorphins in the brain, but similar chemical reactions occur when we’re excited or amused; is ‘happy’ simply a useful umbrella term? Plus, these chemical levels never last for more than a few days or weeks at most. To keep happi-ness afloat seems a feckless ambition.

The Stoics believed that perma-nent happiness could be achieved by freeing oneself from ‘passions’. They advocated fortitude and self-control in all conditions, remaining ‘sick yet happy, in peril and yet happy, dying and yet happy, in exile and happy, in disgrace and happy.’ Our modern sense of entitlement finds this concept alien. By contrast, the idea of ‘flour-ishing’ advocated by Aristotle asserts that happiness is the natural goal of life, and exercising virtue through reason is the best way to do this. This places the active pursuit of happiness in our hands, not those of chance.

However, the etymological roots of the English word ‘happiness’ suggest

something else. ‘Good hap’ (‘hap’ = that which happens by chance) is good fortune; it’s luck, not good behaviour, which leads to happiness. This idea is summarised in the last lines of Thomas Hardy’s poem ‘Hap’:

For Hardy, here and in his novels, happiness is circumstantial. The Ro-mantic poets of his era all thus reject-ed the Aristotelian view of happiness. Graham Greene famously said: ‘Point me out the happy man and I will point out either extreme egotism, evil – or else an absolute ignorance.’ A cheery viewpoint, but is it accurate? More-over, is the absence of happiness such a terrible thing to comprehend?

Studies show that too much happi-ness is harmful; high levels of pos-itivity can lead to alcohol and drug consumption, risk-taking behaviors, binge eating, and general negligence of potential threats. Unhappiness can force us to re-assess our priorities, to carve out change, to cope with rejection and disappointment. Our sorrows can increase our empathy and compassion, and those suffering often emerge more resilient than be-fore. A society with these qualities is not, perhaps, something we should be avoiding – hence, happiness may not be as valuable as we hail it to be.

- Crass Casualty obstructs the sun and rain,And dicing Time for gladness casts a moan...These purblind Doomsters had as readily strownBlisses about my pilgrimage as pain.

tessa peresnew court10

An IntErN aBroAd

Sometime around Halfway Hall, you realise you are no longer the fresh-faced, keen student of yester-year. At this point, you’ve stumbled across the problem of what comes next. Employment, preferably. Three jobs and debt, more likely. Further academia, highly possible.

I’m not sure about further aca-demia, and despite being a writer, I don’t think I’d like to move back into some dark corner of the family home and type my little brains out, so I’d like to go for option A. Unfortunate-ly, or fortunately, I’m a one of a breed of English student which specialises in angst, angst, angst and books. I’d quite like to continue reading books. So, publishing seemed a viable op-tion.

The Industry, even in its current wobbly and restructuring state, requires a hefty amount of experi-ence to enter. Hand on heart, it isn’t the ‘you HAVE to KNOW people’ industry that many fear, but my eager attendance of writing events, chatting and learning from publishers, editors and writers has been invaluable. At the very least, I knew where to start my foray into interning.

I’ve learned through these events that if you’re on time, you’re late, so in February I emailed a lovely lady whom I met at the Festival of Writing in York in September (most intern-ships don’t open applications till March or later). I knew she worked for an agency based in New York and reminded her of our meeting, then asked tentatively if she accepted for-eign interns. In short, her answer was ‘Sure, come work for me’.

Flabbergasted, overjoyed, I emailed no one else and booked my tickets to New York. I knew no one there. I am the keenest of beans. It turned out much later, pretty much on arrival, that my agent was technically based in Chicago. After a brief, slightly confused exchange, it turns out I was working for her remotely in the New York office, where I would also help with office duties and attend Intern Academy, where literary agents would tell us all about the little details of the industry.

The work was hard and very satisfy-ing. I received a large number of my agent’s submissions or work from her authors. I read through carefully, cre-ated editorial reports, left comments

A 3rd year English student on becoming a finalist, with some angst and books along the way

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read more of Hannah’s writing about writing at hfkaner.wordpress.com

on the manuscript and, if I didn’t like a submission, drafted rejection letters. I was given no deadlines, but I made many for myself. I wanted my agent to know I was efficient and good at my job. I wanted to be indispensable. Two days was my deadline for finishing the slush pile manuscripts (submissions from authors), and I’d complete and edit an editorial report or rejection by the third. I was probably a little too chirpy, but would email her every morning when I got into the office, and also researched self-published novels on the internet to see what was selling and if she’d perhaps want to consider representing them. Now, I eagerly anticipate the debut of the books I worked on and approved, if only to show it to my friends and say ‘I HELPED.’

Also, the luck of having gone to New York meant I was able to meet everyone who worked in the office in person. The agents, the assistants, the managers, the new, the experienced and the intimidating. The best thing I learned was their absolute passion for what they do. That very distinctly mixed with the worst thing I learned: People love working in publishing so much, you seem to have to wait for someone to die before you get a promotion. I’m surprised there isn’t a secret network of publishing assassins.

It was a little daunting, such an impulsive hop, skip and leap into a

strange city. However, at the end of the three months,or even the first week, I knew it was worth it. I’ve learnt how to hone down details to the voice of the person writing, not my own, and how to pull out threads of a good story out of a huge plot hole. In particular, I’ve learned what tiny little details will tip an OK manuscript back into the slush pile and how to pull apart the complex clauses in a contract and see what they mean.

More importantly, as I got to know the agents, I realised the experience wasn’t just about knowing how to be a cog in The Industry’s engine, but about the people you meet. We pass each other articles; we offer floors to crash on, cities to see and books to read; we give each other editorial help or advice on job applications (and submitting manuscripts). My summer’s experi-ence has gone from some vague idea that I should start thinking about the future to opening up a whole new net-work of ‘The Awesome Things I’d Like To Do’. I’d like to say, despite knowing my wonderful time in Pembroke and Cambridge is winding up, that ‘all of life is learning’, but that’s a terrible cli-ché and would throw this article into the slush pile. Instead, I’d just advise that you should never close yourself down to new opportunities: Felicia Frazier, Director of Sales at Penguin USA told us interns to ‘Just say yes, then figure out how as fast as you can.’ So far, it’s working.

hannah kaner

notes from nepalCharlie spent the summer of 2013 volunteering in Nepal. Here are a couple of poems written and photographs taken during that time.

I shall beaver away in exile far from the city that knitted my bones, and I shall return one bright dusk – Cloud Atlas

The city with more temples than houses,And more gods than mortals,They say.Where mornings advance sweaty and sunlessAnd the history of this graceless placeIs harvested in the bones of those who survived.

Rainfall still sounds like gunfireAnd dogs bark like wailing widows,They say.The pauses are pregnant here,With all that cannot be forgottenAnd the hope of the runaway children waiting to be reaped.

The town with more paths than road signsAnd nobody knows where they lead,They say.Where people don’t know if they’re steppingInto a democracy or a dictatorshipUntil they’re well and truly through the door.

The crowd/the crown moves like a landslideThrough the maze of hand-me-down streets,Led by an unseen figureWho speaks with a voice glazed by cataractsAnd who promisesA monsoon dawn.

KTM

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The Janai Purnima Sonnetit is the year 2070 andhe rises with the moon, shaking off theskin that keeps him warm in this womb of bells.he tastes her and realises he’s starving.

you have to go up to go down hereas trees move like the swirling skirts of those witchdoctors tracing their way along therocky sandlewood belly of shiva.

every path seems to lead here, to thishoneymoon bed of rhododendrons thatforces our right hand towards that sleepingmountain more stable than this life of ours.

i don’t speak nepalese but i can readthe feeling in the seven taps that bleed. charlotte chorley

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My americAn Dream

It was like being a fresher all over again: a new beginning, unfamiliar faces, away from all my home com-forts. Except this time I was over 5000 miles and a 12-hour plane journey away from home, in Los Angeles.

Having been accepted onto the Caltech-Cambridge exchange pro-gramme for a summer undergraduate research fellowship (SURF) back in January, I’d spent many months plan-ning and imagining what my summer would be like. I knew that there’d be a lot of hard work; after all, the main purpose of my visit was to contribute to the cutting-edge scientific research that Caltech is so famous for. But what I could never have imagined was just how much I would learn about people, life, the world, from just two months in a new place.

Of course, there are many wonder-ful similarities between Caltech and Cambridge: a housing system much like our collegiate system; the incred-ibly intelligent, driven students; a campus, just as beautiful if not as rich

in history as Cambridge surrounded by views of mountains and bathed in continual sunshine.

However, there are also some very striking differences. The first thing I learnt is that the American universi-ty system is very different from the one in the U.K. Students I met there recoiled in horror as I described Cambridge exam term to them, and I did likewise when they described their system of what seemed like one endless examination with mid-terms and finals every term! Caltech is also tiny in comparison to any Uni in England; with only 200 under-graduates per year, it’s probably no bigger than Trinity or John’s. Another unique aspect of Caltech is its strong culture of research, which extends down to the undergraduates, many of whom help with research in their spare time during the academic year. As most Cambridge undergraduates will take any chance to escape from Cambridge, spending our summers doing internships in London or trav-elling the world, I was surprised by

A 4th year engineer reviews her summer of sun, sand and SURF.

how many undergraduates at Caltech choose to stay during the summer to do SURFs.

As a result, Caltech was truly brimming with life throughout the summer. The incredible opportunity of working in a research lab there attracts students from around Amer-ica and the world. Projects running were diverse, varying from a study of snowflake growth at different temperatures, to combating tropical diseases through chromosomal rear-rangement in insect vectors to build-ing a 3D printer to print a scaffold for a tissue-engineered heart. The project I was involved with was to develop a pain-free method of drug delivery,

a skin patch system very similar to a band aid, except with an array of carbon nanotube microneedles, each only 200μm in length, to deliver drugs painlessly through the skin.

As well as work, there was plenty of time for fun. Being in a foreign coun-try with weekends off, all while being

paid a generous stipend, it would have been criminal not to explore. Holly-wood, Disneyland, and Santa Monica beach were among my favourite loca-tions in L.A., while San Diego, only a short train ride away, was perfect for a weekend trip. Huntingdon Botanical gardens, a short walk from campus, was a wonderful expanse of plants from every corner of the world, and also featured a museum with artwork from many prominent artists, includ-ing Gainsborough, Reynolds, and Constable.

All in all, this summer of sunshine, research and travelling was an amaz-ing and unrivalled opportunity. It hasopened my eyes to the challenging

nature of research, and cemented my desire to return to the US for further study in the future. Pembroke is one of only four Cambridge colleges that par-ticipates in this exchange programme. I’d highly encourage any scientists out there who are looking for a summer of fun, sun and discovery, to apply!

neeru ravi

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ScenEs of CaMbridgeIn 1815, Rudulph Ackermann (book-seller) published A History of the University of Cam-bridge, its Colleges, Halls and Public Buildings, contain-ing topographical prints of the city.

Ackermann’s prints were reproduced by Reginald Ross Williamson in no.

59 of the King Penguin Book series in 1951. Williamson commented that ‘[t]he plates of Ackermann’s Cambridge as they stand [...] would make a fairly practical guide to the University of today.’ Over half a century later, how much has changed?

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a scientific enquiry into the true value of vitamins

While cleaning up my new room (I’m on a year-long programme in the USA - unsurprisingly, you don’t find bedders in frat houses) I found some fairly horrendous items. Dirty dishes, soiled laundry, tubes of cream for ailments worthy of Embarrassing Bodies… and much worse not fit for print. But the most horrific discovery of all was a small bottle filled with a yellowish oil. The label identified it as “Vitamin E oil: pure enough for oral consumption”.

A 60 ml bottle of pure Vitamin E oil costs around £10. Is it unreasonable to assume that before handing over this cash for a chemical substance, a consumer would have looked into the supposed benefits they were paying for, and subsequently uncovered the risks associated with it? My room’s former resident clearly did not; even the Wikipedia page on Vitamin E comes straight out with the facts. This substance has shown no evi-dence of being beneficial to health. In fact, there’s some pretty compel-ling evidence to show that it may be harmful, particularly in high doses. The American College of Physicians analysed 19 separate clinical trials

DispatchES:of Vitamin E supplementation, and concluded that “high dosage vitamin E supplements may increase all-cause mortality and should be avoided”.

Vitamin E is an antioxidant, a very broad group of chemicals with the ability to ‘mop up’ reactive substances called free radicals in the body. Com-mon antioxidants include Vitamin A, C and E, beta carotene and zinc. Free radicals are a natural part of the way your body works; for example, they are used by your immune system in fighting viruses and bacteria. But they’re also known to damage human DNA, and have been linked to ageing and cancer. Spurred on by advertis-ing and media hype, for years many people have jumped to the conclu-sion that more antioxidants equal longer and healthier lives.

It turns out, however, that taking antioxidant supplications will not make you live longer. This is the conclusion reached by a 2004 me-ta-analysis (a joining together of many separate clinical trials relevant to the subject) published in one of the world’s most respected medical journals, The Lancet. To the contrary,

20

7 of the 14 trials analysed actually found a slightly increased rate of mortality with supplementation. This January the British Medical Journal (BMJ) conducted a meta-analysis looking into the impact of vitamin and antioxidant supplements on car-diovascular diseases, which vitamin supplements have often been sold as preventing. They found zero evi-dence to support this.

the true price of pills: £10 a bottle, or much more?

What’s going on? Why aren’t these antioxidant vitamin supplements the wonder-pills they’re advertised to be? The problem is simple: the human body’s incredible complexity. We may be able to prove in a test tube that a) free radicals can harm health, and b) antioxidants get rid of free radicals, but until clinical trials with real peo-ple are carried out, we have no idea what the effect of supplementing our diets with these chemicals will be. Who’s to say that we weren’t getting enough of these substances to start with?

The take-home message shouldn’t be that all vitamin supplements are useless. Vitamin D supplementation, for example, has shown some signs of a small positive health impact. But it’s still important to remember that the companies selling these supplements have good reason to manipulate sci-ence to convince people of their need for their pill-shaped product. And they have the media and advertising to help them. Plus, many of these companies have big pharmaceutical corporations behind them; consider the fact that amongst the cardiovas-cular disease trials analysed by the BMJ, the only ones to give positive results were those where the phar-maceutical industry had supplied the supplements. This is by no means an isolated example. It’s easy to fall for the hype; even some of our infallible celebrities can be guilty of over-looking the essential science. With the recent celebrity fad for luxury vitamin ‘IV-drip Spas’, complete with accompanying foot massages and relaxing music therapy, it’s clear that science still has a lot of work to do in terms of weaning us off our pill-pop-ping ways.

alfie ireland

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GEORGINA’S HOMEMADE CARROT CAKE

KiTCHEn cORner: a CAKE RECIPE

4) Grate 240g carrots (you could replace some with courgettes if you like) + measure out 40g chopped walnuts/dried apricots/sultanas/any-thing similar. 5) Fold in the flour to the wet mix (oil/sugar/egg) + combine this with the fruits, vegetables and nuts. 6) Pour the mixture into the loaf tin up to an inch from the top (dollop excess mixture into small cupcake cases). Place in the oven. 7) Bake for 45 mins, cover with foil, then bake for another 45 mins. You’ll know it’s cooked when you can put in a metal skewer + it comes out clean. 8) Enjoy!

EQUIPMENT: a loaf tin (silicon is best), weighing scales, mixing bowl + wooden spoon.

Note: As a fairly moist cake, I don’t think it needs any icing but an orange butter cream would work well. You can also easily substitute alternative ingredients to suit dietary requirements/cupboard contents (e.g. gluten-free flour or walnut oil).

georgina feary

1) Pre-heat oven to 180C. Grease + line loaf tin (unless it’s silicon) with baking paper.2) Blend together 250ml sunflower oil + 225g brownish sugar (anything from golden caster to Demerara) until it looks dissolved. Beat in 3 eggs one at a time until the mixture is blended together.3) Measure 225g of self-raising flour (substitutable with a browner flour). Add in ½ a teaspoon of baking powder.

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for any queries or to get involved in future issues, email jp-publications@pem.cam.ac.uk