By: Zainab Salam, Opinions Editor You’ve probably witnessed it before — someone suggesting, with smugness only a self-proclaimed intellectual can summon, that reading authors like Dostoevsky is the only proper way to engage with true literature. I say this as someone who has spent many nights trying to parse the meaning of a single sentence in a Hannah Arendt essay. But I also say this as someone who reads murder mysteries under the cover, devours romance novels in one sitting, and has fallen in love with the main character in a certain YA book with a blue cover. Reading shouldn’t…
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