When my friend was in college, he minored in English and enrolled in a course called “Feminist Literature” (don’t worry, we’re not about to get political, I promise), which was taught by a very outspoken and intelligent professor who polarized the small university community. On the first day of class, the professor introduced herself and welcomed everyone to the new semester, and then she handed out the reading list for the course. As the professor was giving an overview of what she wanted the students to take away from her course, my friend started scanning the reading list. The authors and their subjects didn’t surprise him in the least – he went into this happily and with eyes wide open. What made him do a double take, though, was the sheer number of books he and the rest of the class were going to be required to read fully and be prepared to discuss at length and cover in exams. At that moment, he knew he was going to need to make a beeline t...