Big Fat Books: Three Reasons to Love 'Em (sponsored)

Anyone who's ever taken an English class knows that when it comes to classic literature, things can go from zero to "this sucks" in the blink of an eye. One minute you're doing some easily-digestible reading, happily parsing Shakespearean sonnets or witticizing with Dorothy Parker...and then suddenly, your teacher appears in the doorway brandishing the next book on the syllabus.

It's big.
It's heavy.
There are 896 pages and the font has a point size of seven.
And the author's last name is something like “Oskoynizholnychekovsky.”

You: (trembling with fear) Do we...do we really have to...read this?
Your teacher: MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

But before you start crying like a little Russian schoolgirl, dry your eyes and consider all the reasons (apart from, like, learning stuff) why reading a thousand-page volume of classic literature isn't really so bad.

1. Street cred. One year from now, that book will be taking up an entire cubic foot of space on your shelf—and people are going to notice. “Whoa,” they will say, their eyes growing wide at the sight of its bulk, “did you...really...read that?” Answer in the affirmative, and don't be surprised when they faint dead away at the awesomeness of your accomplishment.

2. Cultural sensitivity points. People in these books always have crazy, unpronounceable names like “Raskolnikov,” or “Vodianovna,” or “Itchy.” Reading and discussing the characters in class will endow your tongue with a heretofore unthinkable flexibility, allowing you to verbalize consonant-heavy eastern European surnames with gleeful glibness. And while this may seem like a small benefit given all your suffering, we've got four words that might make you reconsider: Hot. Russian. Exchange. Student.

3. Self-confidence. Once you've turned that final page of densely-worded text, all other book-related challenges will seem like piddling child's play. The Scarlet Letter? Sister Carrie? A Separate Peace? HA! Bring it on, baby—heck, you can probably read all three of them at the same time.

Do you see an unexpected upside to Tolstoy and Dostoevsky? Or does Anna Karenina make you want to throw yourself in front of a train? Tell us in the comments!

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