What should students be reading, anyway?

Reframing an old debate

Last week, Rose Horowitz published an article in The Atlantic about students arriving at elite colleges unprepared to read books. Somewhere between high schools’ overemphasis on testing and universities’ underemphasis on the humanities, students never learned how to read properly. Add social media brain-rot to the equation, and it’s no wonder “students have trouble staying focused on even a sonnet.”

At least, that’s what the article claims. A few days after The Atlantic printed their expose, one of the high school teachers interviewed came forward.

“Horowitz reflects a frighteningly narrow definition of what constitutes worthwhile literature,” the teacher, Carrie M. Santo-Thomas, says. “Passing references to Moby Dick, Crime and Punishment, and even my unit about The Odyssey, confine literary merit to a very small, very old, very white, and very male box.” Her students have no trouble reading contemporary literature and YA fiction.

Reading these articles and the sea of comments they inspired, I felt a sense of deja vu. I’ve been reading articles like these for years now. The core conflict remains the same while the specifics change — mostly the schools, teachers, and books in question.

Some critics fret about students’ unwillingness or flat-out inability to read the Western canon. On the other hand, critics push back against the existence of said canon in the first place. Students should read modern, timely books that are relevant to their lives.

I’ve never liked this debate. I’ve always felt that both these positions are extreme and limiting in their view. Both make a lot of assumptions about students’ interests and capabilities. Both reduce complex questions about the purpose of education to a simple question: should students read The Odyssey or The Lightning Thief?

I think this is the wrong question. In this article, I want to unpack both sides of this discussion and reframe it into something more useful.

Why am I writing about this?

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this over the years and have spoken to booksellers, librarians, and professors about it. I know I’ve been talking about AI recently, but my degree in Information Science is a library degree. I attended an accredited library school and worked in a public library for two years.

I’m also a life-long reader. I spent my teen years reading everything I could get my hands on (including books I definitely wasn’t supposed to read!). My experiences as a young reader shaped the person I’ve become today.

I’ve always been sympathetic to both sides of this debate, but something about it bothered me. I wrote this article to figure out what.

Position 1: Students should read the classics.

Some people believe students should read the Great Books. Reading these books exposes students to universal themes that appear over and over throughout history. It helps them understand the world we live in today and how it came to be. It also teaches them to think critically and deeply about what they read. Or so the argument goes.

By now, we should all be aware of the problems inherent in the Great Books canon. It’s too white, too male, and too colonial. These books can also feel stale and out-of-touch, with their stuffy, archaic language and references that even our grandparents wouldn’t have gotten. But does this mean they aren’t worth reading?

I think they are.

I was a Latin kid all through high school. I spent hours every evening working through translations of Cicero, Caesar, and Vergil. It was the epitome of useless humanities coursework, and the authors couldn’t have been more white, male, or dead if they’d tried.

Still, I loved it. I found everything people say about reading the classics to be true. After four years of Latin, I understood more about language and grammar. I’d learned the basics of rhetoric that helped me engage with political news and speeches. I could also read at a higher level, and that made me a better writer, too.

Am I saying every student should drop everything and learn Latin? No. Am I denying the problematic history of Classics as a field? Once again, no.

Here’s what I am saying: Engaging with Great Books is an incredible opportunity. They really do teach critical thinking, language, and writing skills. I would hate for students and teachers to dismiss everything these books have to offer.

Position 2: Students should read relevant books.

Okay, Anna, that’s great for you, but what about everyone else? Some students aren’t equipped to read these books. They’re challenging and inaccessible. Other students don’t care about books that have nothing to do with them and their lives.

I won’t argue with this. Actually, I agree with all these criticisms.

Speaking as a former librarian, nothing matters more than getting kids to read. I don’t care whether they read YA, comic books, or fan fiction. Students are developing habits that will serve them for the rest of their lives. They are figuring out who they are as individuals and members of larger communities. Reading is an important part of identity formation, so students need to see themselves represented in what they read. They need to understand the world they are coming of age in and all its problems.

Encouraging a love of reading should be a top priority for English teachers.

If you’re wondering how I can believe all this after what I shared in Position 1, let me tell you: After finishing all my Latin homework for the day, I read a staggering amount of YA and contemporary fiction.

These books made me feel understood and showed me different possibilities for my life. They helped me learn more about the world as it is today, not the way it was two thousand years ago. They were also fun, and I still enjoy reading them.

For me, reading classics or reading contemporary books was never an either-or. I just read all of it. I think that’s why I’ve always had trouble with this debate. My response was always, “Please don’t make me choose!”

It’s all important

I took a teen literature class while I was in library school. I remember my professor holding up The Hate U Give and saying it was a better novel than To Kill a Mockingbird. The reason?

“Mockingbird is a white savior narrative, and The Hate U Give gives its characters more agency,” she said.

She wasn’t wrong, but something about this comparison bothered me. Maybe it was how she wrote off To Kill a Mockingbird with such broad strokes. It didn’t seem fair to discount Harper Lee’s genius because her book doesn’t stand up to our modern sensibilities. (Ironically, Mockingbird was considered progressive when published and is still often challenged or banned in public schools.)

At the same time, I’ve heard proponents of Great Books insult and ridicule YA and contemporary fiction. They treat books like The Hate U Give as if they were trash, mere escapism, and soon to be irrelevant. (The Hate U Give is often censored in schools as well.)

For me, this memory epitomizes one of the biggest problems in this debate: how we talk about the other side.

In her article, Horowitz worries about students who wanted to read YA novels, implying this was a sign of laziness or ineptitude. Santo-Thomas responds by calling the classics books written by “dead white men.” Neither of these stances respects other books or the people who read them.

The truth is, both To Kill a Mockingbird and The Hate U Give are fantastic books. One is more literary and challenging, and the other is relatable and accessible. They’re apples and oranges, representing different kinds of reading for various purposes.

Why not have students read both together? Mockingbird can provide important historical context for understanding The Hate, and The Hate can spark discussion about the problematic aspects of Lee’s book. Students can see the world as it was, the world as it is, and what still hasn’t changed.

Reframing the issue

This brings us to larger questions about the value of education and the purpose of reading. Why is it important to read books in the first place? And what makes a book worth reading?

Without delving too deeply into this rabbit hole (because it goes a long way!), I’d like to consider two kinds of books — the timeless and the timely.

Peel back all the posturing and name-calling, and that’s what this debate is really about. Which kind of book is more important, the book about what has always been true or the book about what is true right now?

The timeless book speaks to universal themes and the human condition. It may have come a long way across time and space to share its message with us. For these reasons, it may be more challenging to read, but it paints a bigger picture.

The timely book speaks to the now. It was written recently and talks back to the headlines. It gives voice to what people think, feel, and see with their own eyes. For these reasons, it may resonate strongly with readers but not stand the tests of time.

Both the timeless and timely book matter. There is nothing inherently right or wrong about reading either. There is a time and place in a person’s life for each.

Reading isn’t a singular activity. There are many kinds of books and many reasons to read them. As a librarian, I can speak to this. People have asked me to help them find books to read for fun, to learn a new skill, or to better understand an issue. A good literary education should acknowledge this fact and expose students to different reading experiences.

By reframing this debate in terms of timeless vs. timely books, we can see nuance that wasn’t there before. Years of online debating can result in black-and-white thinking — you either support Position 1 or Position 2. There is nothing in the middle.

But the middle is where we find the solution.

Meeting in the middle

So, where does that leave us? It’s all right and good to say that students should read everything, but there are only so many hours in the school day. In practice, what should students read?

I think teachers should aim for a blend of classics and contemporary fiction, timeless and timely. Students should be exposed to and enjoy the benefits of both.

This debate also obscures a deeper truth: Many of the best books blur the line between timeless and timely. Online bickering trends towards extremes—The Odyssey vs. The Lightning Thief again—but plenty of books fall somewhere in between.

Countless contemporary novels are written in a more literary style that will challenge students. At the same time, some classics are surprisingly accessible. My eighth-grade class read S.E. Hinton’s The Outsiders, and outside of TikTok, you’ve never seen teenagers care so much about a book. Students can (and should) read non-Western classics, too. My tenth-grade English class read Things Fall Apart, a powerful Nigerian novel that doesn’t fit neatly into this debate.

It’s also important to meet students where they are. Some classes might be better equipped to read challenging books, and some students might enjoy reading them (the classics don’t have to be boring!). Contemporary books might resonate more in other classes, especially if a lot is going on in the news.

Value all reading. Especially now.

These days, we’re awfully preoccupied with what students are reading. Book bans have never been higher, and some librarians have been threatened with physical violence for trying to keep books on the shelves. Both contemporary novels and beloved classics are being challenged, especially those about gender, race, or class.

Whichever side of this debate you’re on, you probably believe that books matter (if you didn’t, you probably wouldn’t care so much). Let’s not argue about what students shouldn’t read and instead focus on those who want to make that choice for them.