Hello and happy Sunday. Raise your hand if you’re surprised that I’m reviewing a book written by a white guy who lived (and died) over a hundred years ago. Both my hands are raised, believe me. I didn’t read Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens for pleasure, and I’m sure that if I hadn’t had to read it for work, I would have died a Dickens virgin. You can go ahead and laugh, I know what I did there. Like I said, however, I had to read it for work because it was assigned to my students. They could choose between this and another novel written by another white old, long-dead guy, which I’ll read and review in the near future. I’ll let you have a guess at the other book choice in the comments.

Look, I didn’t study literature in university. I only took a class and I had a horrible time in it and because of it I sort of vowed to myself that I would see literature as a way of entertainment and not an academic subject. That translates into my teaching: my main goal is for students to enjoy reading and to figure out what they like to consume. That being said, I’m not going to be a snob about Oliver Twist or write an essay on why nobody should read it. I know it is highly valued in the academic literary world, and I wish I could say I saw why this was, but other than a generally well-written book, I got nothing.

I think it is tricky to have young students like my own read books that show a reality that many progressive people are still nowadays trying to change. The way the author portrayed women and Jewish people was disgusting, and I don’t think many of my students have developed their critical thinking enough to understand that this portrayal was wrong. Here, I’m talking more as an adult in charge of the education of a group of children than as a reader. I don’t see the point in assigning Oliver Twist to thirteen-year-olds who aren’t even British and who exist in a very different context than the one described by Dickens in his novel.

As a reader, apart from being a little angry, I feel nothing. I know that some people get a sense of satisfaction after reading the so-called “classics,” but I’m not one of them. I read for pleasure, not because someone is going to pat me on the back and tell me I did a good job. I finished it yesterday, and I almost immediately started reading another book as a palate cleanser, so you’ll get another review soon.