The year is ending, and like every good novel, there’s a story to tell – about what it means to hold something together, piece by piece, when every chapter feels like it’s threatening to fall apart. As I reflect on my year as Literature Editor for The Student, the journey feels distinctly novel-like – and the books that carried me through each phase of this literary odyssey are worth sharing.
The Beginning: New Chapters and Nervous Energy
September came with the air of fresh starts, as it often does. Second year. A new role. And with it, the inevitable butterflies that always seem to accompany the first page of a new story. There I was, stepping into the role, unsure of my voice, yet filled with the excitement of the unknown. It felt like I was walking into the beginning of something big, and at that moment, Marcel Proust’s Within a Budding Grove, the second volume to his monumental work In Search of Lost Time, seemed like the perfect guide.
Proust’s sprawling exploration of love and longing felt like the ideal way to begin this journey. As the protagonist navigates his own feelings, his youthful exuberance mirrored my own – the excitement of diving into a sea of fresh ideas, of trying to define my editorial voice and navigate the quiet chaos of balancing my vision with that of others.
The Rush: The Plot Thickens
The first semester hurtled by in a blur of back-to-back deadlines, intense edits, and adrenaline-fueled mornings. It was a rush – the kind that sweeps you off your feet, leaving you breathless in its wake. The chaos was palpable, and in these days, Mikhail Bulgakov’s The Master and Margarita became my mirror.
Bulgakov’s surreal masterpiece of absurdity, with its devilish characters and twisted plots, was the perfect reflection of that moment. I had my own cast of characters – writers, deadlines, edits – and my own version of the madness Bulgakov so expertly weaves. In these weeks, the work became a high-stakes game, absurd yet exhilarating – at times feeling like the Devil himself was pulling the strings.
The Burnout: When the Pages Turn Heavy
But no novel exists without its dark chapters, and the burnout hit hard. The cold winter months crept in, and with it, exhaustion, self-doubt, and that all-too-familiar feeling of being pulled in too many directions. The joy I had once felt about the role felt distant, and the pressure of balancing university commitments started to take its toll.
In these days of doubt, James Baldwin’s Giovanni’s Room became my constant companion. The book’s quiet, fragmented beauty mirrored the solitude I felt. The protagonist’s internal battles, his unspoken fears and desires, reflected my own struggle – creative energy draining away, loneliness creeping in. Baldwin’s introspective narrative felt like a calm amidst the chaos, urging me to remember why I had taken on this role in the first place.
The Resurgence: Rediscovering the Joy
By January, something shifted. The quiet solitude of December had allowed me to reconnect with my purpose. I found a resurgence of energy, a revival of the passion that had initially fueled me. And for this phase of rediscovery, Narcissus and Goldmund by Herman Hesse seemed like the perfect choice.
This novel, with its exploration of the tension between reason and art, between discipline and freedom, reflected the balance I had started to strike in my role. The dichotomous friendship between Narcissus and Goldmund mirrored my own internal conflict – between the steady demands of responsibility and the wild, uncontained joy of creation. And Goldmund’s epiphany as a creator, a realisation of his purpose through art, is particularly resonant. In the same way that he seeks the purity of art, I found myself embracing the uncontained joy of literary discovery once again.
The Goodbye: A Full Circle Moment
And then, like all great books, the end came. I looked back on the year, on the chapters I had written, and on what I had learned – not just about literature, but about myself. Gabriel García Márquez’s A Hundred Years of Solitude perfectly captured this final phase. Its cyclical structure, where time folds upon itself, felt like a metaphor for my own journey as editor – what I had learned, what I would carry forward, and what I hoped the future would hold.
This year has been its own novel. A story of beginnings, struggles, rediscovery, and, ultimately, a sense of closure that only literature can bring. And as I step into the next chapter, I’ll carry the lessons and the love for literature that has sustained me through every page.