Gregory Currie, a professor of philosophy at the University of Nottingham, recently argued in The New York Times that we ought not to claim that literature improves us as people, because there is no “compelling evidence that suggests that people are morally or socially better for reading Tolstoy” or other great books. Actually, there is such evidence. Raymond Mar, a psychologist at York University in Canada, and Keith Oatley, a professor of cognitive psychology at the University of Toronto, reported in studies published in 2006 and 2009 that individuals who often read fiction appear to be better able to understand other people, empathize (起共鸣) with them and view the world from their perspective. This link persisted even after the researchers factored in the possibility that more empathetic individuals might choose to read more novels. Recent research in cognitive science, psychology and neuroscience has demonstrated that deep reading of books is a distinctive experience, very different from the information-driven reading we do on the Web. Although deep reading does not, strictly speaking, require a conventional book, the built-in limits of the printed page are uniquely conducive to the deep reading experience. A book’s lack of hyperlinks allowing the reader to remain fully immersed in the narrative, without having to make such decisions as whether to click on a link or not. That immersion is supported by the way the brain handles language rich in sensory detail and emotional and moral complexity, by creating a mental representation that draws on the same brain regions that would be active if the scene were unfolding in real life. The emotional situations and moral dilemmas that are the stuff of literature are also vigorous exercise for the brain, propelling us inside the heads of fictional characters and even increasing our real-life capacity for empathy. This is not reading as many young people are coming to know it. Their reading, mostly done onscreen, is pragmatic (实际的) and instrumental. If we allow our children to believe reading onscreen is all there is, we will have deprived them of an enjoyable and enlightening experience that will enlarge them as people. Instead molding our education around young people’s attachment to digital devices and onscreen habits, we need to show them some place they’ve never been, a place only deep reading can take them. Asian stereotypes are everywhere. More often than not, if you see an Asian American depicted on the screen, you’ll also see an Asian stereotype. These stereotypes are unrealistic and offensive, but unfortunately they often fall under the popular radar and go unnoticed and unquestioned. One of the most pervasive Asian stereotypes is that Asian Americans are foreigners who cannot be assimilated. Because Asian Americans are racially and culturally distinctive from the American mainstream, so / and they have been widely seen as unable to be absorbed into American society. According to this view, anything Asians do is thus inherently “alien” to America. For instance, mainstream TV and movie often portray Asian Americans as being “unassimilated”, or having “exotic” qualities like martial arts ability, accented English, and a propensity (嗜好) for eating strange things. The problem in my experience is that these few portrayals end up being what people expect of me, and other Asian Americans, too. When people look at me, they expect something that I am not – they expect an exotic “other” that doesn’t belong “here”, that is, in the United States. I often encounter people who assume that I’m either an immigrant restaurant worker or an international student at the local university – two things that place an immigrant or foreign identity on me, even though I’m an American citizen and have been living in the US my entire life. The stereotype of Asian Americans as foreign or “other” is embedded in American culture and passes by unnoticed. My identity as an Asian American becomes invisible. It creates a divide between who I am and how I am perceived – it’s like my US citizenship status is dictated by my appearance and my ethnic background. How do we fix these things? We should become more aware. We think about them and talk about them. We maybe even yell about them. We acknowledge how these representations make us feel uncomfortable about ourselves, or, in the best cases, proud to be who we are. As people of color, we should fight for the right to our own identities and who we are. It’s an ongoing process: think, talk, yell, and fight.