No purchase necessary
Reading lists should help students, not academics’ coffers.
Once upon a time, whilst still living at home, I received a letter bearing the official stamp of the University of York. Full of excitement - these letters had yet to become inextricably linked with more work, or demands for money – I ripped it open, scanning for some juicy details on my impending university career. What I found instead was my very first reading list, which due to my questionable choice to study English Literature was lengthy. But these were the books that I needed to buy, and so I did. My bill from Amazon came in at a hundred pounds; I could hardly comprehend how much I would be spending on books, especially if I would be greeted with something of this length every term.
As it was, the first reading list dwarfed any others that I have since been given, most likely due to the number of general texts found on it. In amongst these were books by Judith Woolf and Mary Luckhurst, both of which at the time appeared to be no different from the others on the list, and so were dutifully purchased with all the rest. Naturally, I hoped that both would be helpful for my course, after parting with so much money for them.
It was only when I arrived at York that I realised that in the case of the two aforementioned texts, whilst undoubtedly being well written and thoroughly researched, there may have been another motive for their inclusion on a list circulated to around three hundred undergraduates, all eager to begin university equipped with the essentials for their course. Both Woolf and Luckhust just happen to be lecturers in the English department.
The very people who set the reading list are reaping royalties when hundreds of people purchase the books To make matters just a little bit worse, as of yet I have needed neither book for my course. It seems unfair to single out the English department, as this is a practice which takes place in many others. The core set text for the first Politics module, which all undergraduates studying the subject must take, is written by Adrian Leftwich, a lecturer at York. There are scores of other examples, most notably in humanities, in which lecturers set their own books as the main text for all students.
It’s a practice which at times can be justified. Some of the best academics in the country teach at York, and these people are the leading figures in their subjects. It seems understandable to set your own text for a course if the general consensus is that it is the best book on the subject.
But what seems unforgivable is to ask students to buy books that they may not need at all. Recently I heard of a student who was asked to buy an anthology, even though she already owned all the texts featured in it that she would be required to study. But her tutor seemed adamant that she would need all the texts together in an anthology.
And who was the editor of this indispensable tome? Her tutor, of course.
