A Pint at the Eagle and Child

Oxford is full of literary traditions. One of them being that, for many years, C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien and their friends used to meet every Tuesday in The Eagle and Child pub on St. Giles' Street, where they would discuss the progress of their literary ideas and engage in some good-spirited argument and debate. Over a pint or two, of course. This group famously called itself "The Inklings," and the marks of their literary prowess are still visible in The Eagle and Child, as well as all across Oxford.

Now, The Eagle and Child is just across the street from St. John's, and I see it every day while walking to and from various places. I've also gone there a few times and would call it one of my favorite pubs in the city so far -- relaxed, cozy, and with enough secluded spots for good conversation. Just this past week, a few Rhodie friends and I were chatting about our personal writing, or our aspirations to write more while in Oxford, and the idea came to us. Why not form our own weekly writers' gathering in The Eagle and Child, to share our stories or essays or poems with each other over a drink or two? That is, why not establish our own version of the Inklings? ("The Inkjets," one of my friends playfully suggested.)

The entire idea reeks of literary pretension, I confess, but the four of us eagerly settled on it, circulated some of our work among the group this past week, and then met in The Eagle and Child last night for a night full of good literary conversation. Our gathering took the form of a very informal writers' workshop, in which we discussed each other's works and each other's ideas. We had an excellent time, and I realized how much I've missed writing workshops and discussions about writing, especially with such a small group of nice, smart, curious, interesting people. The pub finally kicked us out at closing time, but then we lingered in the dark chatting a little longer, and I walked away feeling very eager to do more -- both to pursue more of my own personal writing and to discover more of my friends' creative impulses. This Oxford thing may be steeped in quaint ideas and spirited aspirations like ours, but it's all a little bit magical, and all a little bit unlike anywhere else.