Category: English

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Katarina Båth, Senior Lecturer in Comparative Literature, Lund University

Your 20s can be an intense decade. In the words of Taylor Swift, those years are “happy, free, confused and lonely at the same time”. Many of us turn to literature to guide us through the highs and the lows of this formative time. We asked 20 of our academic experts to recommend the book that steered them through those ten years. This is the second half of that list, so make sure you’ve read our first instalment too. And we’d love to know the book of your own 20s – let us know in the comments below.

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Read more:
Twenty experts on the book that got them through their 20s – part one

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11. A Manor House Tale by Selma Lagerlöf (1899)

To be young is to feel alone with your suffering. Whatever has happened to you – a broken heart, bullying, your parents’ divorce, a death – you feel you are alone with your fate. No one else understands how much it hurts, no one tells you how it really is.

In my own 20s, I felt less alone by reading the older classics. In particular, the Swedish Nobel prize laureate Selma Lagerlöf’s gothic novel A Manor House Tale moved me deeply. The portrayal of two young people who fall in love, yet are separated by mental illness and financial hardship, taught me something about love beyond superficial dating and convention.

It helped me understand that love is the strength to endure the deepest darkness for the sake of the other, and how difficult that is. Both protagonists are struck by mental illness, and each must struggle with their own affliction to be able to receive love.

Katarina Båth is a senior lecturer in comparative literature

12. To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf (1927)

When I first encountered Woolf’s work, her prose struck me as impossibly, infuriatingly vague. Luckily for me, her novels were required reading on the course I was taking, so I had no choice but to persevere. It took a while for my inner ear to attune to the poetry of her rhythmical cadences; but once I learnt to attend to them properly, they utterly transformed my sense of what writing could be.

It took time, too, for my life to catch up with the existential and elegiac tenor of Woolf’s writing. Loss and grief came to me in my 20s, and amid the utter devastation of those times it was to Woolf that I turned. To the Lighthouse, in particular – in which she reconjures her childhood and the parents she had lost decades before – afforded me a powerful sense of recognition.

Amid the sorrow it evokes, I marvelled at Woolf’s depiction of many moments of “ecstasy” and “rapture” arising from the most mundane situations – moments which, in their radiance, seemed to point to the importance of living on.

Scarlett Baron is an associate professor of 20th- and 21st-century literature

13. The Best of Everything by Rona Jaffe (1958)

I surprised myself with this choice. Standing before my bookshelf, full of colourful spines, broken and creased, evidence of stories told and read, my fingers reached for an unsuspecting novel: The Best of Everything.

It was given to me by a friend who sometimes knows me better than I know myself. I first heard about it from the actor Sarah Jessica Parker, who said that without it, Sex and the City would not exist. The book reaches for a certain universality. I am sceptical of that word, but I do wonder: What touches us all?

As a Black woman, it might seem unlikely I would find fragments of myself in four white women in 1950s New York, yet I do. In the quiet recognitions, the man who does not love you back, the first day you realise what you are good at, the sudden throb of ambition, the book crystallises something electric. It bottles the shock of adulthood that strikes every 20-something-year-old. Who am I? And what do I want?

Olumayokun Ogunde is a doctoral researcher in English

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No one’s 20s and 30s look the same. You might be saving for a mortgage or just struggling to pay rent. You could be swiping dating apps, or trying to understand childcare. No matter your current challenges, our Quarter Life series has articles to share in the group chat, or just to remind you that you’re not alone.

Read more from Quarter Life:

• Why Charli XCX might be gen Z’s answer to the Romantic poets

• Let ‘performative males’ be – gender has always been a performance and our need for authenticity is bad for us

• Is today’s political climate making dating harder for young people?

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14. Candide by Voltaire (1759)

When I turned 23, I landed a graduate IT role for an international bank. It was a long commute to a pretty, northern city so daily, for an hour each way, I read.

Reading made late trains, weather and crowded buses tolerable. It wasn’t what I’d imagined after my English degree and master’s but I appreciated it, and had been awarded a place on a competitive employee environmental project in the Kalahari desert (I still lament leaving before taking up this opportunity).

One week, I reread Voltaire’s Candide. Candide is about journeys, changes and seeking “the best of all possible worlds”. Violent, impossible, ridiculous and laconic, it turned me into an annoyingly vocal reader. Suddenly, I knew I must return to university – I started my PhD soon after.

Candide’s desperate situations and peaks and troughs of optimism and despair shook me out of my routine during my 20s, a rare period in life when I could change direction. I recommend it for anyone seeking encouragement to take a calculated risk.

Jenni Ramone is an associate professor of postcolonial and global literature and director of the Postcolonial and Global Studies Research Group

15. The Sparrow by Mary Doria Russell (1996)

What does it mean to have a calling? And what do you do when that calling betrays you and leads the people you love to unbearable suffering? Mary Doria Russell’s novel The Sparrow ostensibly tells the story of Emilio Sandoz, a Jesuit priest and linguist who joins a mission to the planet Rakhat to translate the language of its inhabitants, but these questions burn at its heart.

I first read The Sparrow in my mid-20s, fighting to balance my newfound vocation to progressive Christian ministry with multiple family members’ deaths and the unravelling of a young marriage. For many, our 20s are a time when we struggle to define who we are and what we are called to do in the world. Both inspiring and harrowing, The Sparrow speaks to that struggle – and to the discernment we must use to avoid doing more harm than good as we wage it.

The Reverend Tom Emanuel is PhD candidate in English literature.

16. The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller (2011)

The Song of Achilles came out right at the beginning of my PhD in classics. It was the start of my 20s, and I’d just become interested in how fiction can challenge the classical canon, especially epics like Homer’s.

I’d been reading Margaret Atwood’s The Penelopiad, and I’d begun writing the early chapters (though I didn’t know it then) of what would become my first novel, For the Most Beautiful (itself a retelling of the Iliad, through the women). And then Madeline Miller came to Yale, and I heard her speak about what it means to retell stories as she does. I read (or rather, devoured) her beautiful book, and something clicked.

There is nothing more powerful than to have trailblazers like Miller who lay the path. The Song of Achilles is a masterful, gorgeous, timeless novel that I come back to again and again. I would encourage anyone in their 20s who wants to know that there is more than one way of telling a story – and that that can be its own story and its own gift, in itself – to turn to this book.

Emily Hauser is a senior lecturer in classics

17. The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy (1997)

I first read this stunning, Booker prize-winning novel at the age of 22, as part of my master’s degree at the University of Edinburgh.

At the time, I was reading voraciously for classes, sometimes getting through a book a day. But Roy’s opening chapter, a challenging piece that contains all the elements of the story she’s about to tell, stopped me in my tracks because of its beauty, tragedy and complexity. I was instantly hooked.

Set in Kerela, India, The God of Small Things traces the lives of fraternal twins, Rahel and Estha, and their extended family from the late 1960s to the early 1990s. Roy puts the small stories of the family’s life into conversation with the big narratives and structures that shape Indian society over this period. The book’s revelations enthralled me in terms of plot, while Roy’s stylistic innovations and intricate structuring (her training as an architect perhaps played a role here) made it a mesmerising read.

The God of Small Things examines the specifics of Indian society such as (de)colonisation and caste while also speaking to questions of family, death and ultimately, love. It is a novel to savour at any age but since it’s one worth returning to, reading it in your 20s just means more chances to do so!

Ellen Howley is an assistant professor in the School of English

18. Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad (1899)

Heart of Darkness is crucial reading in your 20s because it contains multiple opportunities for discovery, including self-discovery. Or at least, that’s what my future self can tell my past self.

On the face of it, Conrad’s novella is a journey into the heart of Africa. It is also, though, a story about the discovery of historic injustice as it reports on Belgium’s colonial regime. To learn about colonial history is a vital education.

Less obviously, it also exposes you to a narrative style which gets you questioning how a work of fiction can play with your confidence in truth. We’re warned early on of “old sailor’s yarns” while imposters, facades and silences can be found throughout the story. Reading it in my 20s, I discovered that critical thinking and observation skills make for valuable mental equipment.

Conrad’s story teaches you how to be a better reader, a crucial skill in our times – and rewards a reader that pays attention.

Lewis Mondal is a lecturer in African American literature

19. Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf (1925)

Virginia Woolf’s Mrs Dalloway (1925) came to me in my early 20s, as I was beginning to understand how the life we live inwardly rarely mirrors the one other people perceive.

Set across a single day in post-war London, the novel captures the texture of our thoughts: fleeting, associative, irrepressible. Clarissa Dalloway’s quiet crisis – was this the right life? did she love the right way? – and Septimus Smith’s descent into trauma spoke to the realisation that adulthood isn’t a destination but a continual negotiation of memory, grief and the mundane.

For readers in their 20s, Mrs Dalloway is invaluable because it resists the binary of success and failure. Instead, it explores the richness of interiority, how past selves linger in present choices, and how the smallest gestures can shape a life. Woolf teaches us that meaning is stitched not in milestones but in moments, in glances, in a solitary walk to buy flowers.

Nada Saadaoui is a PhD candidate in English literature

20. Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert (1856)

Since having children in my 30s, I am reduced to a sobbing ball by media in which people get depressed, or toddlers worry about things, or inanimate objects seem like they might be lonely. But in my 20s, when I was better equipped to face the realities of the human condition, I returned frequently to Madame Bovary.

It tells of Emma, a sheltered young woman who marries a kind but prosaic country doctor. Desperate for romance, she embarks on affairs and spends beyond her means, with predictably tragic results. There is some hauntingly beautiful imagery, as in the scene when Emma incinerates her wedding bouquet and watches petals flit like butterflies up the chimney.

Mainly, though, the novel reassured me that there was someone out there (albeit a fictional someone) making a bigger mess of life than me. My ill-advised student purchases included unwearable shoes, fishnet tights for the Scottish winter, and a pool table – but at least I never spent 14 francs in a month on lemons for polishing my nails.

Martha McGill a historian of memory and supernatural beliefs

Did a particular book help you navigate your 20s? Let us know in the comments below.

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This article features references to books that have been included for editorial reasons, and may contain links to bookshop.org. If you click on one of the links and go on to buy something from bookshop.org The Conversation UK may earn a commission.

The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Twenty experts on the book that got them through their 20s – part two – https://theconversation.com/twenty-experts-on-the-book-that-got-them-through-their-20s-part-two-269322

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Cormac Cleary, Postdoctoral Researcher, Institute for Climate and Society, Dublin City University

Wolves are returning across Europe – but not to the UK and Ireland, where public support is lukewarm at best. Ecologists point out their benefits, while farmers worry about their livestock. But another influence on public opinion is rarely discussed: Hollywood’s obsession with the wolf as a monster.

This is a particular issue in places where wolves are native yet have been extinct for centuries. Though wolves once roamed across Britain and Ireland, for most people there today they exist only in stories or on screen. The tropes we absorb through entertainment can carry far more weight than scientific facts, and have an outsized impact on how we think and feel about these animals.

Think of the big bad wolf or Little Red Riding Hood. Nearly every child in the English-speaking world is introduced to the villainous wolf from a young age. They’re cunning, cruel and ravenous.

However, we don’t leave that imagery behind us in childhood. Horror cinema keeps our nightmares full of wolves, drawing on familiar – and often entirely false – tropes. Recent films offer some particularly clear examples.

In Guillermo Del Toro’s recent adaptation of Frankenstein, wolves are depicted as villains. After escaping Dr Frankenstein, the monster takes refuge in an isolated farmstead and tries to help its residents. Twice, wolves descend on the farmstead – not only taking sheep but breaking into the house and attacking humans.

During the first attack, the monster muses that “the hunter did not hate the wolf. The wolf did not hate the sheep. But violence felt inevitable between them. This was the way of the world. It would hunt you and kill you, just for being who you are.” Del Toro uses wolves as a metaphor for the world’s brutality. To make that connection, he depicts conflict between wolf and human as “inevitable”, along with portraying wolves – very inaccurately – as determined home invaders.

This negative portrayal is not drawn from Mary Shelley’s novel, which contains no such scenes. Del Toro appears to have inserted it to heighten tension and scare viewers.

Metaphors and monsters

Robert Eggers’s Nosferatu offers another recent big budget example. When Nicholas Hoult’s character tried to escape the vampire Count Orlok’s castle, he is pursued by a pack of wolves. This is very close to older fairytale wolf characters, depicted as overtly evil or demonic.

This was reinforced by the film’s promotional campaign. In a widely reported interview, Hoult claimed he was “nearly attacked” by “real wolves”. In fact, the animals involved were Czech shepherd dogs who played their roles a little too convincingly – not wolves at all. Horror producers sometimes play up events like this to heighten the sense of threat and drum up ticket sales, in this case using an erroneous wolf attack to do so.

This isn’t limited to big budget cinema. A recent independent horror, Out Come The Wolves, shows two men and a woman who are attacked by wolves on a weekend getaway. Meanwhile, a menacing love triangle plot plays out in which a jealous would-be lover abandons his competition to a wolf attack.

The behaviour of wild predators is presented as an allegory for an opportunistic approach to romance. All’s fair in love and wolves. The film also contains an explicit reference to wolf reintroduction: when hearing about the wolf attack, one character is sceptical, saying “there haven’t been wolves in this area for years!” The message here is clear: as wolves come back to a landscape, so does the danger of attack.

Each of these films draws on existing tropes and fears in slightly different ways. This is what horror does as a genre: works with what scares us already and amplifies it for entertainment. But, in doing so, as high profile cinema events, they risk playing into inaccurate public perceptions. And because most people in Britain and Ireland will never encounter a wolf in the wild, these fictional wolves become their reference points.

On screen v reality

There are valid concerns around wolves preying on sheep, calves or other livestock, but attacks on humans are extremely rare. A pack of wolves surrounding and repeatedly terrorising a home simply doesn’t happen.

There is a strong ecological case for reintroducing wolves where they once lived. As apex predators they reduce populations of deer and other animals which can otherwise damage the environment, often by overgrazing. In Yellowstone national park in the US, grey wolf reintroductions triggered a cascade of unexpected biodiversity benefits, as overgrazing elk were forced on the move, trees recovered, rivers stabilised and beaver populations grew.

The same is happening in Europe as wolves spread back into their original range. But to reintroduce wolves to the UK or Ireland, conservationists would have to physically transport them there. Opinion polls show approval rates of 52% in Ireland and just 36% in the UK.

It’s hard to extract these numbers from the cumulative effect of centuries of storytelling, from ancient folklore through Victorian gothic novels to modern Hollywood horror. They all contribute to the idea that wolves are dangerous, unpredictable, and should be nowhere near humans.

It’s meant as entertainment. But horror’s ongoing reliance on the wolf as a symbol of evil or violence may be damaging efforts to promote coexistence with healthy wild populations. Our natural landscapes need wolves. And right now, wolves need all the good PR they can get.

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Cormac Cleary does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. How Hollywood horror’s ‘killer wolf’ trope is sabotaging rewilding efforts – https://theconversation.com/how-hollywood-horrors-killer-wolf-trope-is-sabotaging-rewilding-efforts-270539

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Daniel Alge, Senior Lecturer in Criminology & Criminal Justice, Brunel University of London

Justice secretary David Lammy has announced one of the most significant changes to criminal justice in England and Wales in decades, by scrapping the use of jury trials for most offences that carry a likely jail sentence of less than three years.

Under the proposals, only the most serious offences such as murder, robbery and rape would continue to be tried by a jury. Most other cases would be heard by a judge alone. The reforms will also include creating new “swift courts” within the crown court division.

The government says judge-alone trials will take 20% less time than jury trials. Currently, cases can take an average of 332 days from charge to completion.

The criminal courts are undoubtedly under extraordinary pressure, compounded by cuts to public funding and the impact of the COVID-19 pandemic. There is currently a record backlog of over 78,000 crown court cases.

Yet the right to be tried by one’s peers has deep roots in the legal tradition of England and Wales. Its origins trace back to Magna Carta in 1215, which promised that no one would lose their liberty or property without “the lawful judgement of his peers and the law of the land”.

The judge and legal philosopher Lord Devlin described trial by jury as “the lamp that shows that freedom lives”. It is a symbolic cornerstone of justice in England and Wales.

These proposals go far beyond the recommendations put forward in Brian Leveson’s independent review of the criminal courts, published in July 2025. Leveson proposed trial by judge alone where the defendant requested it, or in particularly lengthy and complex trials. But Lammy’s proposals appear to be a watering down of leaked MoJ plans to restrict the use of jury trials to only “public interest” cases with sentences of over five years.

In practical terms, jury trials already form only a small part of the system, accounting for around 2% of all criminal cases. Ministry of Justice data shows that most criminal cases are resolved in the magistrates’ courts, in which three magistrates (who are volunteer lay people rather than professional judges), determine guilt as well as sentence.

Although magistrates deal with less serious offending, they currently have the power to imprison offenders for up to 12 months for a single offence, a power which, Lammy announced, would be increased to 18 months. Of those cases which are dealt with by the crown court, around 60% of defendants plead guilty, removing the need for a trial.

Some might therefore regard juries as symbolically important, but an unnecessary burden on a struggling court system. While there are valid concerns about aspects of jury decision making, research has found that juries do generally make fair decisions.

There is limited research on judge-only trials, in part because they are relatively rare. Even in jurisdictions where juries are not used, judges more often sit in panels of three or more. There are concerns that judge-only trials risk exacerbating judicial bias.

Perhaps just as importantly, juries provide a form of lay participation that helps ensure public confidence in the fairness of verdicts.

Juries can act as a democratic check on official power. There have been cases, for example in protest-related trials, where juries have interpreted the law in ways that reflect broader community standards. Such instances are a reminder that the legitimacy of criminal justice depends on public consent.

The court backlog

The evidence suggests that jury trials are not the primary cause of the current backlog. Crown court backlogs began rising sharply in 2017, driven by years of budget reductions, court closures, maintenance backlogs and limits on the number of days courts were permitted to sit. However, the backlog has not fallen below 35,000 since 2000.

The pandemic brought unprecedented disruption into an already fragile system as many hearings were postponed and the transition to remote hearings caused delays. By late 2023, there were around 68,000 outstanding crown court cases, already the highest on record, and experts consistently identified lack of capacity as the central issue.

Given that jury trials make up such a small proportion of criminal cases, reducing them cannot, on basic numerical grounds, meaningfully reduce a backlog of this scale. The government has stated that restricting jury trials would save £31 million, just 0.2% of the MoJ budget.

It could, however, create new problems, including increased appeals, challenges on grounds of judicial bias and reduced public confidence in the outcome of trials.

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Read more:
Could England and Wales introduce jury-free trials? Here’s how they work in other countries

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The Institute for Government has warned that such changes could increase the risk of wrongful convictions and further erode trust in the justice system.

There is no doubt that long waits can be profoundly distressing for victims as well as defendants and witnesses. But victims’ interests also include trust in the process and confidence that decisions about guilt reflect a broad social judgement, not just the view of a single official.

This does not mean that the jury system is perfect or that reform is unnecessary. Leveson’s review of the courts suggested targeted changes, such as judge-only trials in highly complex fraud cases, or hybrid panels of judges and magistrates for certain intermediate offences. It also called for significant improvements in digital case management and infrastructure – investments that could address underlying inefficiencies more directly.

Restricting jury trials might appear to offer a fast route to clearing backlogs, but the data suggests that delays stem from wider capacity constraints, not the workings of juries themselves. England and Wales already rely overwhelmingly on magistrates’ courts and guilty pleas to handle most cases.

If the government is serious about improving outcomes for both victims and defendants, it should invest in the capacity of the courts, rather than remove one of the few remaining avenues for public participation in the criminal justice system.

Daniel Alge does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Jury trials: what the UK government’s plan to limit them would mean for victims, defendants and courts – https://theconversation.com/jury-trials-what-the-uk-governments-plan-to-limit-them-would-mean-for-victims-defendants-and-courts-270873

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Alexandra Palombi, Professor in Occupational Therapy, Department of Health Studies, Royal Holloway, University of London

When actor Christina Applegate recently told her followers on Instagram that her legs were “busted” because stress makes her multiple sclerosis (MS) worse, many people with the condition immediately recognised the feeling.

Her comment summed up something researchers have been studying for decades and people with MS have been describing for even longer: stress, even from everyday situations, can trigger symptoms or make existing ones flare.

An estimated 2.8 million people live with MS around the world. The condition affects more women than men and is usually diagnosed between the ages of 20 and 40.

MS affects the brain and spinal cord, disrupting how signals travel through the nervous system. This can lead to extreme tiredness, mobility problems and difficulties with memory or concentration. People with MS often experience relapses, which are periods when symptoms suddenly worsen. These relapses can increase disability over time and make everyday activities more challenging.

A relapse occurs when new symptoms appear or existing symptoms become worse for more than 24 hours, after at least 30 days of stability, and without being caused by fever or infection.

Relapses can present in many different ways. Some people develop vision problems such as blurred or double vision, or pain when moving the eyes, which is known as optic neuritis. Others experience muscle weakness or stiffness in their arms or legs, which can make walking and balance more difficult. Many people notice numbness or tingling in the face, limbs or trunk. Severe fatigue that feels very different from normal tiredness is also common.

Coordination problems may also appear, leading to unsteadiness, tremors or dizziness. Speech may become slurred, swallowing may become more difficult and bladder or bowel habits can change. Some people also experience cognitive changes such as trouble concentrating, slower thinking or lapses in memory. These symptoms can occur alone or in combination and can have a significant impact on day-to-day life.

Research has shown that stress can make MS worse. In 2003, Dutch researchers found that stressful events can double the risk of a relapse within four weeks. Infections can triple the risk. When both stress and infection occur together, the risk may increase up to six times. In practical terms, this means that a major stressful event can significantly raise the chance of a relapse in the following month.

A year later, American researchers reviewed 14 studies and found a strong connection between stress and MS flare-ups. These flare-ups are important because they often lead to long-term increases in disability, meaning that avoiding relapses is crucial for maintaining independence and quality of life.

More recent research continues to show a clear link between stress and relapses. However, it remains unclear whether stress increases the likelihood of developing MS in the first place. A 2022 study found that stress in childhood or adulthood does not appear to change the risk of developing MS.

Fear and worry can lower quality of life

Many people with MS worry about when the next relapse will happen. This fear is known as Fear of Relapse. It goes beyond ordinary concern. It can disrupt daily routines, relationships and a person’s overall sense of well-being. Persistent fear often leads to health anxiety, which increases stress levels.

Stress has physical consequences too. People who believe their memory or thinking skills are declining often feel more anxious and stressed. Over time, this can contribute to depression, and poor sleep can make depression worse.

Depression and stress can reinforce each other. They lower quality of life and may even increase the risk of a relapse. Emotional health and physical health are deeply connected in MS. Managing stress, improving sleep and addressing anxiety are not simply about feeling better. These steps can help protect against flare-ups and support long-term independence.

Practical approaches that can help

Gratitude involves taking time to notice and appreciate the good things in life. Research shows that people who practice gratitude feel happier, less stressed and more satisfied with their lives. A simple habit such as writing down a few things you are thankful for each day can lift mood and build resilience.

Mindfulness involves paying attention to the present moment without judgement. Mindfulness practices have been shown to reduce stress and depression. They can also improve fatigue levels, which is particularly important for people with MS. For many, mindfulness helps ease daily pressures and may reduce the cycle of anxiety that contributes to relapses.

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Read more:
How mindfulness therapy could help those left behind by depression treatment

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Although practices such as mindfulness and gratitude are not cures, they can make daily life easier, enhance emotional wellbeing and help people with MS feel more in control of their health.

Applegate’s comment about her legs being “busted” after a stressful moment reflects this reality in a powerful, relatable way. Stress is not a minor inconvenience for people with MS. It can alter how their body functions from one day to the next. Recognising this truth and giving people the tools and support they need to manage stress is an important step in helping everyone with MS protect their health and maintain independence.

Alexandra Palombi does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Why everyday stress can make MS symptoms worse – https://theconversation.com/why-everyday-stress-can-make-ms-symptoms-worse-270219

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Johnny Parr, Senior Lecturer, Sport and Exercise Science with expertise in psychophysiology and motor control, Manchester Metropolitan University

For many people with dyspraxia, falling is not an accident but a daily reality. It begins in childhood, shaping confidence and independence, and often continues throughout adult life.

Falls are among the most common causes of injury worldwide, yet a group of people who experience them frequently remains almost invisible in public health data. Dyspraxia, also known as developmental coordination disorder (DCD), affects around 5% of the population and disrupts the brain’s ability to coordinate movement.

My latest research highlights just how frequent and serious these falls can be, and why it is time for healthcare systems to take notice.

Dyspraxia affects the brain’s ability to plan and coordinate movement. This can make everyday activities such as walking, climbing stairs or navigating a crowded room unexpectedly hazardous.

People with dyspraxia often struggle with balance, delayed motor responses and difficulty multitasking while moving. Yet until now, very little research has measured how often people with DCD fall or the full physical and emotional impact of those falls.

To explore this gap, we co-designed a survey with people living with dyspraxia. More than 400 people took part, including adults with DCD, parents of children with DCD and comparison groups of typically developing adults and children.

We found that adults with dyspraxia were nine times more likely to fall at least once or twice a month compared with adults without DCD. Among children with the condition, more than half experienced falls once or twice a week.

These were not harmless stumbles. Participants reported injuries ranging from sprains and fractures to concussions and knocked-out teeth. More than a third of adults with DCD had broken a bone because of a fall.

The psychological toll was just as significant. Many adults said they were afraid to walk alone or use stairs. Overall, 72% of children and adults with dyspraxia were classified as having a high level of concern about falling.

Respondents described avoiding social events, team sports or even leaving the house. Some reported embarrassment, low self-esteem and social isolation. Parents described how their children’s fear of falling kept them from playdates, school trips and physical activity.

Despite these experiences, dyspraxia is missing from major fall prevention guidelines. Public health messaging about falls tends to focus on older adults or on people with conditions such as Parkinson’s or multiple sclerosis. Our findings show that fall risk is a serious and long-overlooked issue for people with DCD at all stages of life.

This oversight has real consequences. Falls are not only about scrapes and bruises. They are one of the leading causes of injury related hospital admissions.

For example, the UK already spends billions each year on fall-related care. If we ignore a population that is falling frequently from childhood onwards, we risk worsening health outcomes, increasing costs and missing opportunities for early, effective support.

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Read more:
Dyspraxia: why children with developmental coordination disorder in the UK are still being failed

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So, what needs to change?

First, DCD must be recognised in fall risk assessments and prevention strategies. This means training healthcare professionals to identify dyspraxia and understand how it affects balance and coordination.

Second, schools and community organisations should take fall risk seriously when supporting children with DCD, particularly in PE classes, playgrounds and other active settings.

Third, the emotional impact of falling must be addressed. Cognitive behavioural strategies have shown promise in managing fall-related anxiety in other groups and could benefit people with dyspraxia too.

Finally, public awareness needs to grow. Falls linked to dyspraxia are often dismissed as clumsiness or carelessness. In reality, they are a chronic and distressing part of life for many people.

It is time to stop letting people with dyspraxia fall through the cracks. With earlier intervention, greater understanding and more inclusive public health efforts, we can help people with DCD stay steady, safe, and supported.

Johnny Parr does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. People with dyspraxia are at high risk of falling – and it’s too often overlooked – https://theconversation.com/people-with-dyspraxia-are-at-high-risk-of-falling-and-its-too-often-overlooked-256134

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Naomi Lott, Lecturer in Law, University of Reading

Chancellor Rachel Reeves’ recent budget included an investment of £18 million to be spent, over two years, on up to 200 playgrounds across England.

This new investment is the first significant policy step towards supporting children’s play since 2008, when the then Labour government introduced the first national play strategy. That strategy was scrapped just two years later as an austerity measure.

This is an apt example of how frequently play is overlooked and undervalued, despite the mountain of evidence that proves its importance and its protection as a right in the UN convention on the rights of the child.

In truth, decades of attempts to support children’s play have failed in part because play hasn’t been looked at as a right. It’s seen as instrumentally valuable, meaning that it helps towards other aims, such as child wellbeing and mental and physical health.

This is of course true. But we need to see play as intrinsically valuable. This means that it is fundamentally important in itself.

This history that has presented play as a luxury, rather than a right, must change in order to ensure that our children live lives reflective of their dignity as humans.

The recent independent review into England’s national curriculum, for instance, completely neglected play. This was despite it being raised as a top issue throughout the review’s call for evidence.

A poor understanding of children’s wellbeing and narrow framing of what education is – and what children need to succeed academically – has pushed play to the edges of children’s lives.

The decline in play

Children’s outdoor play has declined by 50% in a single generation. Only 27% of children play in the streets regularly, compared with 80% of adults when they were children in the 1970s.

Over 2 million children in England under the age of nine do not live within a ten-minute walk of a playground.

This lack of access to playgrounds is more significant for children from deprived areas. A recent study found substantial inequality: deprived areas of England have fewer, smaller playgrounds that were also further to travel to.

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Read more:
We mapped 18,000 children’s playgrounds and revealed inequality across England

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In 2023, the UN Committee on the Rights of the Child reviewed the extent to which the UK has upheld, promoted and fulfilled children’s rights. In their report they called for children’s “access to accessible and safe public outdoor play spaces” to be strengthened.

Playgrounds must meet the play needs of all children and should be designed in an inclusive manner, with opportunities for children of all ages, genders and abilities to play. In allocating and spending the money set aside for playgrounds, it is crucial that their primary beneficiaries and users – children – are involved in decisions about how the money is spent and how play spaces are designed.

As stated in the UN convention on the rights of the child, children have a right to be heard in all matters that affect them. The design of playgrounds directly affects children, and therefore any spending on playgrounds that is done without consultation with children would be in breach of their right to be heard. This means funding consultation with children on the design of local play spaces, their location and accessibility, and the activities that are provided for.

Play spaces need to be accessible to children. This means considering how far playgrounds are from children’s homes, and whether children are able to safely get to them by themselves. They must offer quality play experiences: they must support imaginative play, creativity, be stimulating and include elements of risk.

While the government’s promise to invest in playgrounds goes some way to meet the UN’s call for better play spaces and to remedy the need that has been documented across England, it is not sufficient as a measure on its own.

Meeting the right to play

Fulfilling children’s right to play – making quality play possible for all children – means more than just giving children physical spaces for play. Children also need psychological space to play. This means they need accessible play spaces that provide opportunities for quality play, and they need to be free from adult pressures and expectations.

Children need protected and unpressured time to be able to play freely, both within and outside of the school day. They need a society that acknowledges and champions their right to play, and supports and enables their play – playing children should be seen as something valuable, not as a nuisance or as frivolous.

Finally, children have a range of rights, and they all matter for play. Children need all their rights to be protected and promoted in law, policy and in their interactions with the adults around them. Without any one of these, children cannot fully enjoy their right to play.

The budget announcement of playground investment is welcome, and long overdue, but it is just the first step to ensuring that children have their right to play fulfilled.

Children’s right to play can only be realised through acknowledging that children’s rights are equal to those of adults. This means we need a cultural shift that acknowledges this equality and that play is critical for children of all ages. We need a culture that supports and promotes children’s play, especially their free play: play that is child-led. Playgrounds are only part of the answer.

Naomi Lott is Lecturer in Law at the University of Reading. She has previously received funding from the Economic and Social Research Council, for her research on the right to play.

– ref. Why the £18 million for playgrounds in the budget is so important – and how it should be spent – https://theconversation.com/why-the-18-million-for-playgrounds-in-the-budget-is-so-important-and-how-it-should-be-spent-271020

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Stefan Wolff, Professor of International Security, University of Birmingham

Thirty years ago, on December 14 1995, the presidents of Bosnia-Herzegovina, Croatia and the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia signed the Dayton agreement. The treaty ended three years of bloodshed in what was, at the time, the largest war in Europe since 1945.

This distinction is now held by the Russian war against Ukraine. The conflict which began in February 2022 has already lasted longer than the one in Bosnia-Herzegovina and has reportedly led to the death and displacement of millions of people.

The war in Bosnia-Herzegovina happened at a very different time than the war against Ukraine and a very different setting. It was at the end of the cold war, in a fracturing multinational state amid rising nationalism. It started as a civil war rather than an external invasion and it was fought throughout the country’s territory.

Yet despite their differences, there are several eerie parallels between both wars. These are lessons worth considering for how the war against Ukraine might end.

Both wars have a very strong ethnic element, and they both happened in a shifting geopolitical environment. Both wars have had high levels of internationalisation. They were not only fought between the belligerent parties, but indirectly between their supporting allies through the military equipment and support they provided.

The negotiation process that led to the agreement that ended the war in Bosnia-Herzegovina did not just involve the belligerent parties. It also involved “parent” states – Serbia and Croatia – which signed on their behalf. Similarly, but in some ways worse, it seems that any agreement on Ukraine will involve first and foremost the US and Russia. Ukraine and Europe appear set to be excluded.

The war in Bosnia-Herzegovina ended as a result of heavy-handed, US-led mediation at an air force base in Dayton, Ohio. The Dayton mediation effort succeeded after multiple earlier European-led efforts had failed and a UN peacekeeping operation was unable to protect civilians, even in so-called safe areas.

The Dayton accords, as the agreement became known, provided an operational framework that, with all its faults, has managed to keep the country away from violent conflict for 30 years. It has not, however, provided a framework for a functioning state.

The rigid power-sharing structures agreed in Dayton have created frequent political paralysis. Dayton requires key decisions – such as the elections law or on the financing of institutions – to be taken by an international high representative who still holds ultimate authority over Bosnia-Herzegovina.

Nor did the Dayton accords instil much loyalty to the new state. Especially among its Serb population, the desire for breaking away from Bosnia-Herzegovina remains strong. This was clearly evident from the results in the latest presidential elections in the Serbian part of the country on November 23. The candidate who campaigned on a platform for secession won the vote.

What has largely contributed in keeping Bosnia-Herzegovina together is a range of EU actions and funds aiming at maintaining stability. This includes the presence of a UN-mandated European Union peacekeeping force: Eufor Althea.

The clear European commitment to stability in Bosnia-Herzegovina and the western Balkans more broadly is commendable in its endurance. But it is also an indictment of local politicians for failing to establish a self-sustaining peace based on the Dayton accords.

Comparisons with Ukraine

There are a number of lessons that Dayton can offer to efforts to end the war against Ukraine. The first relates to the process of negotiations. In the run-up to the talks, US president Bill Clinton dispatched his national security advisor, Anthony Lake, to Europe to consult extensively with allies.

US leadership in Nato and the clear signal sent to the Bosnian Serbs with operations Deadeye and Deliberate Force, bombing missions which brought the Serbs to the table for negotiations. These were then brought to a successful conclusion by Richard Holbrooke, one of the most gifted diplomats of his generation.

The ceremonial signature event in Paris, three weeks after its initialling in Dayton, gave the agreement additional weight. The three presidents of the warring factions signed under the watchful eyes of the presidents of the US, France and the Council of the EU, as well as the prime ministers of the UK and Russia and the German chancellor.

The sheer extent of the Dayton accords – an agreement with 12 annexes – speaks volumes of the attention to detail. Not all of the original provisions have worked out in the way their drafters may have intended.

But, if nothing else, the military provisions in annex 1A and the subsequent UN-authorised peacekeeping operations, led initially by Nato and then by the EU, provided a robust set of security arrangements. These have been key in deterring any of the parties from defecting from the Dayton accords and contributed to the prevention of renewed large-scale violence in Bosnia.

Most of what made the Dayton accords adoptable, and at least minimally functional, is currently absent from the process to achieve peace in Ukraine.

First, Russia in 2025 is not Serbia in 1995. Where Serbia was already worn out by years of international sanctions, Russia has found ways to minimise their impact.

This is mainly due to the support of allies like China, Iran and North Korea as well as the reluctance by the US president, Donald Trump, to get tough on his Russian counterpart, Vladimir Putin. Serbia did not have resources, population or strategic depth comparable to what Russia can throw into its war against Ukraine.

Second, western assistance to the wartime Bosnian-Croat alliance was a fraction of what would be necessary to enable Ukraine to achieve a similarly advantageous negotiation position. At this stage, it is not even clear whether US and European support will continue at a level to enable Ukraine to avoid an outright military defeat.

While Ukraine’s defeat on the battlefield is not on the cards immediately, it is a less distant prospect now, given the country’s domestic turmoil, the capriciousness of US engagement under Trump and the weakness of Europe.

The final lesson from Dayton to consider might therefore be that even an imperfect agreement may be preferable to an unending, and likely unwinnable, war.

Stefan Wolff is a past recipient of grant funding from the Natural Environment Research Council of the UK, the United States Institute of Peace, the Economic and Social Research Council of the UK, the British Academy, the NATO Science for Peace Programme, the EU Framework Programmes 6 and 7 and Horizon 2020, as well as the EU’s Jean Monnet Programme. He is a Trustee and Honorary Treasurer of the Political Studies Association of the UK and a Senior Research Fellow at the Foreign Policy Centre in London.

Argyro Kartsonaki has received funding from the German Federal Foreign Office and the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE). She is past recipient of grants from the United States Institute of Peace and from the Economic and Social Research Council (UK). She is a part of the Centre for OSCE Research at IFSH, co-editor of OSCE Insights, and consults the OSCE as a member of the OSCE Expert Network.

– ref. Thirty years after the Balkans peace deal, a different US leadership is fumbling the war in Ukraine – https://theconversation.com/thirty-years-after-the-balkans-peace-deal-a-different-us-leadership-is-fumbling-the-war-in-ukraine-270024

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Louis Bayman, Associate Professor in Department of Film Studies, University of Southampton

Murder has never been as comforting as in the Knives Out series, whose third instalment, Wake Up Dead Man, is out now in cinemas and will be available to stream from December 12 as one of Netflix’s Christmas offerings. It clocks in at nearly two and a half hours of suspense, comedy and enough asides about religion and politics to get any traditional festive arguments going.

Daniel Craig’s quick-witted but laconic southern private investigator Benoit Blanc doesn’t show up until about an hour into proceedings. Narration is handed over instead to Father Jud (Josh O’Connor), a former boxer who became a Catholic priest after killing a man in the ring.

O’Connor carries the film, not to say this winter season more generally in cinemas, occupying the starring role in Kelly Reichardt’s arthouse heist film The Mastermind last month, and The History of Sound which will be out next month.

Father Jud recounts the events leading up to murder in a far-flung parish in upstate New York, where a small group of parishioners have fallen under the unorthodox preachings of the cultish Monsignor Jefferson Wicks (Josh Brolin).

To say much more would risk giving away some of the mystery that Wake Up Dead Man advertises in its title, so let’s just say that the set-up of a priest battling perdition and the weird parishioners he is stuck with make up a cast of characters who each have their reasons for murder.

This potential is amplified by the fiery sermons of the Monsignor, who is less a guiding shepherd to the credulous flock and more a vengeful wolf. He details his vivid fantasies in confession to the cringeing Jud, as the very definition of a loose canon.

Wake Up Dead Man is an engaging comic mystery with an all-star cast, with Craig, O’Connor and Brolin joined by Mila Kunis, Jeremy Renner, Kerry Washington, Andrew Scott and Glenn Close, who hams up the gothic elements of the script with relish. This is a “locked-room mystery”, a genre begun by Edgar Allan Poe’s 1841 short story The Murders in the Rue Morgue, where murder is committed in the apparently impossible conditions of a completely closed room. The film is then not only a whodunnit but a howdunnit.

Wake Up Dead Man is aware of its own literary inspirations, which if they weren’t already clear are listed as the subjects of the parish reading group. The film is set over Easter weekend, but the idea of a good murder has become staple Christmas fare, making it no surprise that Netflix has scheduled this film for the holiday market. But what is it in the genre that makes murder so Christmassy?

Death as a puzzle

Detective fiction is unique in the way it treats death. Unlike horror, it does not dwell on the terrifying vulnerability that is our mortal condition. And unlike the war film, death is not the price for adherence to a civilisational ideal. Nor is there much sense of the sacredness of life, for death in detective fiction is treated less as a tragedy to mourn than a puzzle to solve.

Detective fiction depicts a world where mystery is no longer proof of the ultimately unknowable workings of the divine. Mystery is instead a problem to be met by the calculations of logical deduction. But as the various lustful, greedy characters of detective fiction demonstrate, if rationality provides the only source of meaning, what is there to stop us from pursuing total amoral self-interest? What is there to stop us, indeed, from murder?

The shared narration between detective Blanc and Father Jud means that Wake Up Dead Man becomes an enquiry not only into a murder but the antagonism between reason and God. Blanc states his atheism as soon as he arrives at the church that is now a crime scene. But a heavenly light shines through its windows to brighten its gloom as Father Jud provides his justification for faith.

Wake Up Dead Man nicely satirises how charismatic leaders can elicit the irrational passions of their followers for self-interested ends, but the film is not itself a rejection of belief. Of course, the intensity of a closed setting, where a lifetime of stored resentments, jealousies and greed spill over into brutal hatred, may also be why murder mysteries seem so appropriate at Christmas.

My main disappointment with Wake Up Dead Man is how underused its supporting players are; the ensemble nature of the whodunnit works best when attention is divided among a cast of characters, each of whom could be a potential murderer. But its closing revelations layer twist upon twist with enough force to make for a satisfying ending to an entertaining story.

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Louis Bayman does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Wake Up Dead Man: an enjoyable slice of murderous Christmassy fun – https://theconversation.com/wake-up-dead-man-an-enjoyable-slice-of-murderous-christmassy-fun-271001

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Carolyn Jackson, Professor of Gender and Education, Lancaster University

The UK government has committed to reducing the amount of time pupils spend in GCSE exams in England by up to three hours on average. This comes after recommendations to cut exam time were made in an independent review of the national curriculum and school assessment.

Professor Becky Francis, who led the review, has said: “Exams are currently this very stressful, elongated period that young people have to endure, and it’s an unusually long period in England.”

But the government has announced the introduction of a new test. Children in year eight will take a reading assessment, intended to improve standards before they take their GCSEs. This seems to be different from the diagnostic tests in English and maths (also in year eight) recommended in the independent review’s final report.

Children in England are among the most tested in the world and are set to remain so. However, frequent testing isn’t a requirement of school education – and it could be having a serious effect on children’s wellbeing.

In our recent research, we wanted to explore how frequent, high-stakes exams – those with significant consequences, such as for your future career or education – affect children’s fear of failure. We also investigated whether children see school as competitive, how competitive they are, if they see other students as cooperative and whether they feel like they belong in school.

We analysed data from England and the Belgian region of Flanders, as these regions have very different systems when it comes to testing.

England is renowned for setting lots of tests that are high-stakes for pupils, teachers and schools. GCSE and A-level results affect pupils’ learning and career paths; schools are ranked by performance in tests that children sit in primary and secondary school.

Flanders, on the other hand, has no national high-stakes tests. Indeed, it had no nation-wide centrally-administered tests at all until 2024.

Our analysis used data from Pisa, a programme that measures 15-year-olds’ skills and knowledge in reading, mathematics and science in countries across the globe. Questions are also asked about wellbeing and school life. We analysed the data of the 5,242 English students (in 175 schools) in the assessment, as well as the 4,882 Flemish students (in 171 schools).

Competition and failure

It showed that in England, where high-stakes testing is common, students’ fear of failure is higher and they perceive more competition in school than in Flanders. By contrast, in Flanders, students perceive less competition and more cooperation from other students, and they have a higher sense of belonging and less fear of failure than their English counterparts.

The difference in fear of failure is explained partly by students experiencing more competition in England. For example, English students are more likely to report that their peers value competition and that they feel they are being compared with other students. Research by one of us (Carolyn Jackson) has shown that competition and comparisons are fuelled by testing.

A positive sense of belonging has been linked to better academic performance, positive mental health and wellbeing, greater happiness, less stress, higher attendance and greater engagement in school.

Its value is accepted in England: Bridget Phillipson, secretary for education, recently announced her vision to foster student belonging in schools. But she discussed this at the same time as announcing more testing and related targets. According to our analyses, increased competition, which is associated with high-stakes testing, is likely to reduce rather than increase students’ sense of belonging.

Fear of failure – which is also higher in England – can lead to reduced academic performance. It’s also linked with missed opportunities for learning, lower emotional wellbeing and higher levels of stress, burnout and depression. Fear of failure is typically higher in competitive, rather than cooperative, learning contexts.

Overall, our analyses show the importance of creating education systems (and schools and classrooms) that downplay competition and instead foster cooperation and a sense of belonging. Systems like this are associated with lower fear of failure. Reducing fear of failure is crucial given that it is associated with the broad range of negative factors listed above.

This is especially important at the moment, as school-related stress is a major concern in many European countries. It has been linked to growing mental health problems among young people, especially girls.

Returning to the curriculum review, the panel’s push to reduce time spent in exams at GCSE may help slightly to reduce stress. Also, the recommendation to keep any new tests in year eight low stakes and diagnostic, and not to return to high-stakes Sats tests at this level, is encouraging in light of our findings.

Policymakers in Flanders are increasingly looking to learn lessons from the English system. But they would do well to avoid implementing changes that might increase competition and students’ fear of failure, and also reduce cooperation and feelings of belonging.

Currently, many more students in England than in Flanders report school-related pressure. That could soon change if Flanders introduces high-stakes testing and drives up competition.

Carolyn Jackson has received funding from the Economic and Social Research Council (ESRC) and The Nuffield Foundation.

Mieke Van Houtte does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. High-stakes tests are common in England’s schools – and they’re linked to a fear of failure – https://theconversation.com/high-stakes-tests-are-common-in-englands-schools-and-theyre-linked-to-a-fear-of-failure-269459

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Andrea Piovesan, Lecturer in Psychology, Edge Hill University

Have you ever thought a font looked “friendly” or “elegant”? Or felt that Comic
Sans was somehow unserious? You’re not imagining it.

Typefaces carry personalities, and we react to them more than we realise. My work explores how the shapes of letters can subtly influence our feelings.

When we read, we are not just processing the words. We are also taking in the typeface, which can shape how we interpret a message and even what we think of the person who wrote it.

Researchers demonstrated this in a 2018 study using simulated text conversations. They presented participants with an ambiguous message (for example, “That’s what I do”) and altered the typeface. A cheerful-looking font seemed to encourage readers to interpret the message positively, while a harsher one pushed them toward a more negative reading.

A similar pattern appears in email communication. In a 2014 study, the same email sent in Times New Roman made the sender seem formal and professional, whereas the more playful Kristen ITC made them appear more polite and even more attractive. Just as a voice sets the mood of a conversation, a typeface sets the mood of the page.

Research also shows that we process words more quickly when the typeface matches the meaning we expect. In one experiment, published in 1989, people recognised the word “slow” more quickly when it appeared in Cooper Black, a typeface associated with heaviness and slowness, but took longer when the same word was shown in Palatino Italic, which conveys lightness and speed.

A 2021 study found a similar priming effect in brand logos. After seeing a logo set in a particular typeface, participants were quicker to identify words that matched the qualities suggested by that design. When the style of the lettering aligns with the message, our brains seem to work more efficiently.

But how is that possible?

The answer is a mix of factors. Some qualities are built into the physical features of the typeface. Thick, straight lines signal sturdiness, while curves tend to feel softer or more approachable. Some associations may even have evolutionary roots.

Across a range of studies, people reliably link curved shapes with positivity and angular ones with threat or negativity. A 2016 review of this research traces the pattern back to survival mechanisms.

Sharp, angular forms in the environment can indicate danger, so our visual system has evolved to detect and prioritise them quickly. This bias appears to spill over into our perception of typefaces too, making angular fonts feel harsher or more alarming, while curved ones seem warmer and more pleasant.

Other typeface personalities have been shaped by history and use. Take Times New Roman, originally designed in the 1930s for the British newspaper the Times. Over time, its connection with journalism has become ingrained, making Times New Roman synonymous with professionalism and formality today.

The influence of typefaces becomes even clearer when the wrong choice is made. An example comes from the European organisation for nuclear research, Cern, in 2012 when researchers used Comic Sans to announce the discovery of the Higgs boson (also called the “God particle”).

The decision sparked widespread criticism because Comic Sans is widely seen as playful and informal, hardly befitting one of the most important scientific discoveries of our time.

People who work in design, communication and marketing know this phenomenon well and use it deliberately. Think about the last time you bought a product you couldn’t see inside the box. What persuaded you if the product itself wasn’t visible? Most likely the packaging.

Designers choose typefaces as well as images that communicate the qualities they think you’re looking for.

If you’re searching for screws for a DIY project, you’re more likely to trust packaging set in bold, heavy lettering that signals strength and sturdiness. If you’re choosing a perfume as a gift, a delicate, flourished typeface might suggest elegance and femininity before you’ve even smelled it.

In one 2006 study, people were shown a range of fonts and asked where they would feel appropriate.

Serif typefaces such as Times New Roman and Cambria, which are recognisable by the small finishing strokes at the ends of their letters, were judged most suitable for business documents. Monospaced fonts like Courier New, in which every character takes up the same amount of space, were seen as better suited to technical materials and computer code.

This very article is set in Baskerville, and that’s no accident. Baskerville, like Goudy Old Style and other classic typefaces, tends to be seen as professional, trustworthy and high-quality. Those are the qualities The Conversation aims to convey to its readers. The same principle applies to any professionally designed website. Every typeface has been chosen to create the right impression.

Typefaces can also shape our experience of music. An album cover with rounded letters, for example, can make the music feel more pleasant. Designers also match typefaces to the genre: curvy, playful fonts appear on hippy music covers, conveying joy and peace, while sharp, angular lettering is common on punk albums, signalling anger and aggression.

Sometimes we don’t know exactly why a font feels a certain way. In a 2023 article, I reviewed studies from the past century that asked people to rate how they perceived different typefaces.

This large collection of data revealed some surprising patterns. For example, condensed typefaces, which have letters packed closely together, tend to convey a sense of sadness more than other fonts.

Thick lines reliably signalled strength, but the opposite was not true: thin lines were not consistently judged as weak. Instead, perceptions of weakness were more strongly associated with irregular strokes and high contrast, features common in typefaces that resemble handwriting. Why do they do that? I am afraid I don’t have an answer.

Next time you pick up a book, scroll through a website or glance at a label, take a moment to notice the font. Those subtle lines and curves are doing more than you might think, shaping your experience in subtle ways.

Andrea Piovesan does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. It’s not you – some typefaces feel different – https://theconversation.com/its-not-you-some-typefaces-feel-different-270192