If you Google search ‘how to write a thesis,’ an array of information from universities and academic sites appears. In the United Kingdom, for example, Oxford University’s Learning Institute offers guidance through its ‘Stages of the Doctorate’ site, which has a 1,500-word guide tailored specifically to writing a thesis. It advises researchers that they are not alone if they are experiencing anxiety, writer’s block, or procrastination. The website tries to demystify the writing process, breaking it down into manageable steps, from gathering the right information to daily note-taking and writing, regular check-ins with the thesis supervisor and leaving enough time to revise the text. Though many books have also been written on the subject, such as Rowena Murray’s How to Write a Thesis, which has been reissued six times since its original publication in 2002 by the Open University, students seeking advice about the major intellectual undertaking of writing a thesis can do so with the simple click of a mouse, immediately connecting to scholarly communities around the world.

It may seem strange, therefore, that this year sees the publication of the first English translation of Umberto Eco’s How to Write a Thesis. Originally published in 1977, this book has gone through 23 editions in Italy and has been translated into 17 different languages. The fact that it is only now reaching the English-speaking world is a remarkable oversight, especially given Eco’s literary celebrity as author of such widely read works as The Name of the Rose (1980) and A Theory of Semiotics (1975). In an internet-driven world, in which research and writing techniques have been transformed, should time-starved and financially anxious students bother reading a book that was written almost 40 years ago? Is Eco not passé, interesting from a nostalgic point of view but perhaps not necessary?

Despite its longevity, How to Write a Thesis remains surprisingly relevant, particularly for those studying in Eco’s beloved discipline of the humanities. Eco offers a rare combination of practicality and unabashed, thoughtful love of learning. His prose is crystal clear, almost, at times, pedantic, but his love and command of language shine through. For Eco, accomplishing things on time and within budget is important for the student writing a thesis, and knowing why to study, and why to keep going when things get tough, is crucial to success. Eco has an elegant touch and worldly tone, which many other guides, sticking to a certain earnest dryness, do not share. He advises students to remain grounded and focused by writing as simply as possible. One can be interesting without over-saturating a thesis with fancy jargon or mystifying the reader with excessively complex language.

How to Write a Thesis has a clear structure, with chapters subdivided into numbered sections that feature lists and tables within them. It covers topics such as choosing a subject for the thesis, conducting research, creating a work plan, writing the thesis and finalising the thesis for inspection. Each section is elegantly self-contained, making the book easy to dip in and out of as a whole. Eco believes that writing a thesis should take no less than six months and no more than three years, and that one should read primary and secondary texts in their original languages, wherever possible. He also describes how to use a library properly, how to organise your sources (there is a marvellous section on using index cards, coloured stickers and different types of pen and pencil), when and how to quote other texts (never from something you haven’t read, and only if you can paraphrase the text without looking at it) and how to format the final draft (be sure to adhere to a recognised stylistic system).

In the section entitled ‘An Experiment in the Library of Alessandria,’ Eco sets out to prove how much can be achieved with relatively restricted resources. He imagines a student who rarely attended university before starting a thesis. Furthermore, this hypothetical student starts researching at the last minute, has a mere year to finish and lives far from the university. What to do? To provide a proper answer, Eco pays visits to his own local library in Alessandria, in southern Monferato, Italy. Calmly and professionally, he carries out a preliminary bibliographical investigation, consulting the library catalogue, perusing the reference section and asking the librarian for advice, noting, in a moment of charming insight, that an honestly approached librarian is likely to keep talking far beyond the call of duty. He reads a little, finds useful pointers in the texts he consults, and realises that some authors and ideas can be disregarded. The research parameters are gradually extended and pared back. After a few days, Eco concludes the following:

What I set out to demonstrate…is that a student can arrive at a small library with little knowledge on a topic and, after three afternoons, can acquire sufficiently clear and complete ideas. In other words, it is no excuse to say ‘I live in a small city, I do not have the books, I do not know where to start, and nobody is helping me.’

Naturally, as Eco admits at the outset, the choice of research topic has to be considered. Time can be wasted searching for foreign language or technical texts in places where they simply do not exist. His point, however, is clear enough and still valid in today’s digital world: be clear in your methods, revise your parameters constantly and build your thesis with the material you have at your disposal.

Another useful aspect of the book is Eco’s almost paternal consideration of some perennial student concerns. It is quite common, for example, for a new graduate student to think in grandiose terms. Eco notes patiently:

Even the brightest young writer will find it difficult to work in a vacuum and establish an argument ab initio…if someone is a genius, and especially if someone is a genius, he will never be diminished by starting from another author’s work…Medieval writers saw themselves as ‘dwarves’ compared to the ‘giant’ ancients…yet they could see further…because they were ‘dwarves standing on the shoulders of giants.’

Though it might seem natural for a graduate student to read widely and pay due respect to the arguments advanced by his or her predecessors, Eco notes that the student’s pride may intervene in the writing process: he or she may savour the achievements that have led to graduate school and nurture an inflated sense of self-worth. Without denying that such a congratulatory sense of self may be justified (after all, Eco implies, genius does exist and it isn’t necessarily diminished by pride), he advises the would-be ‘name’ of the future to acknowledge the accomplishments of those who carved out a tradition while striving to advance their knowledge.

Elsewhere, much in the same way a driving instructor might caution a student against being too fast and loose with the rules, Eco reminds his readers to ‘pass the test.’ Scholars who have proven themselves as experts in their fields may be excused for disregarding certain stylistic procedures, but students, however naturally clever they may be, should not seek to demonstrate their edginess and unorthodoxy in their theses, which might be mistaken for a lack of knowledge or lead to feelings of resentment from more conservative academics. Thesis writing requires a delicate balance of confidence and humility.

Eco is by turns shrewd and generous in his description of the student/supervisor relationship. He is realistic enough not to idealise it. The graduate student is developing ideas and a personal style, a process that will inevitably result in frequent missteps and misjudgements, even from a strong mind (perhaps especially from a strong mind). As for the advisor, his or her input may be characterised by fluctuating levels of engagement and interest. There may be times, Eco says, when a student has prepared excellent thoughts to discuss with a supremely interested advisor, but such discussions may not occur as often as they could. Nevertheless, Eco is an optimist. Many things can go awry while writing a thesis, but he speaks warmly of the potential ‘meeting of minds.’ An honest advisor can learn from the student and will embark on an intellectual journey alongside him or her. This level of collaboration, however, may lead to the advisor writing or speaking about ideas that came from the student, raising concerns about plagiarism. Sometimes it can be difficult to determine exactly how and when the original idea was born. In Eco’s view, students should seek rewarding relationships with their mentors while guarding against being taken advantage of, sidelined, or held at arm’s length.

Writing a thesis is a deeply challenging enterprise, even without the financial anxieties of postgraduate study. While acknowledging this, Eco highlights the fact that ‘research is a mysterious adventure that inspires passion and holds many surprises … it is like your first love: it will be difficult to forget.’ As with a first love, there is much to look forward to: contentment, satisfaction, self-discovery and a potentially lasting relationship. It can also break your heart, if the research and writing does not go as planned or if other unforeseen circumstances intervene. You may abandon a thesis before finishing, perhaps intending to return to it when you’re more mature and less pressured. Some people fall in love too early, don’t make the right move, or let the moment slip by, but the opportunity may return, either intentionally or by chance.

Although Eco is an insightful and empathetic guide, his writing can be curiously flat at times. He is a naturally urbane and cosmopolitan figure, talking with ease about aesthetics, literary theory and an array of (mostly European) authors and artists. He is not ashamed of this, yet at times it appears as though he is restraining himself, so as not to confuse or alienate his readers. Get the thesis done, learn as much as you can from your advisor, and don’t disregard your love for your subject. All of this is good advice and, yet there are times when a reader might wish to be dazzled. A little showing-off from a polymath such as Eco might have given the text a greater sense of fun.

That said, Eco proves to be a fascinating Virgil to the Dantes of the thesis-writing world. As in his other writing, he is calm, collected and eager to meet his readers halfway: he can be charmingly childlike in his desire to please. He negates the bewildering aspects of academic research by taking his readers through the process of writing a thesis from start to finish, showing that it need not be too obscure in its methods, considerations and final findings. Also, in contrast to many other guides, Eco emphasises that although writing a thesis can be arduous and at times exhausting, perhaps even impossible to finish if the circumstances aren’t right, the student is likely to benefit immensely from the discoveries made on his or her ‘mysterious adventure.’ This emphasis on the joys of learning, which sees research as one of the highest possible intellectual pursuits, combined with Eco’s practical guidance and erudition, makes How to Write a Thesis a definite must-read.

Andre van Loon is a freelance literary critic, specialising in new British and American novels and studies of Russian 19th- century literature.

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