My experiences with ENG123: Intro to Literature
Had written this in college during my first real brush with classical literature. Reposting now to share the wonderful experience.
This is a piece I wrote during my time at IIT Kanpur, reflecting on an unexpectedly transformative course. I'm reposting it now as a reminder that the most valuable education often comes from the most unexpected places.
When I first saw ENG123: Introduction to Literature on the course catalog, I registered for it mainly because I needed to fulfill a humanities requirement. As an economics student with a growing interest in computer science, I had pragmatic expectations: show up, do the readings, get the credits. What I didn't expect was for this course to fundamentally change how I think about the world.
The Intimidating Beginning
Walking into that first class, I was immediately out of my comfort zone. Unlike my economics and CS courses where I could hide behind equations and code, literature demanded something different: vulnerability. There were no right answers to optimize for, no algorithms to implement. Just texts, ideas, and the terrifying prospect of articulating your interpretation in front of peers.
Our professor, whose passion for the material was infectious, started with the Greeks. Reading Oedipus Rex felt strange at first. Why were we studying a tragedy written over two millennia ago? What could it possibly teach an aspiring technologist?
The Unexpected Relevance
But then something clicked. The themes of hubris, of unintended consequences, of systems spiraling beyond control: these weren't ancient relics. They were warnings that felt increasingly relevant as I learned more about technology's growing influence on society.
When we moved to Shakespeare, I found myself captivated by Hamlet's paralysis through analysis, a state I recognized from my own experiences with decision-making under uncertainty. The Merchant of Venice sparked debates about justice versus mercy that felt directly applicable to the algorithmic systems I was learning to build.
The Power of Different Perspectives
Perhaps the most valuable aspect of ENG123 was the diversity of interpretations in our class discussions. A passage I had read as straightforward would be illuminated by a classmate's reading that revealed layers I had completely missed. It was a powerful lesson in intellectual humility.
I remember a particularly heated discussion about Heart of Darkness and its problematic elements. It taught me that great works can be simultaneously brilliant and deeply flawed. This nuance would later inform how I think about technology, institutions, and the people who build them.
Literature as a Tool for Empathy
The fiction we read became a form of simulation: a way to experience lives and perspectives radically different from my own. Victorian England through Dickens, colonial Africa through Achebe, the American South through Faulkner. Each work expanded my capacity for empathy in ways that no textbook could.
This might seem like an impractical skill for someone building products and companies. But I've come to believe it's essential. Understanding human motivation, recognizing the complexity of lived experience, appreciating that rationality is only one dimension of human behavior: these insights have made me a better founder, product leader, and collaborator.
The Lasting Impact
Years later, I still think about ENG123. When I'm designing products at EasySLR, I consider the narratives our users construct around their work. When I'm making decisions with incomplete information, I remember Hamlet's dilemma. When building AI systems, I'm haunted by stories of technology's unintended consequences.
To the engineering and science students hesitating over that humanities elective: take it. The skills you develop (close reading, argumentation, comfort with ambiguity) are rare and valuable. The perspectives you gain might just transform how you see your own field.
And to the professor who taught that course: thank you. You probably don't remember me among the hundreds of students who passed through your classroom. But you changed how I think, and that's the highest compliment I can pay.
Written originally in 2014, when these experiences were still fresh. Lightly edited for clarity.