Through the novels Pride and Prejudice and Beloved, I began to understand that perception – how we view others and how we allow ourselves to be seen – is at the heart of both personal growth and social change. These novels gave me tools to ask better questions about identity, history, love, and survival.

In Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth Bennet showed me that pride doesn’t always have to be a flaw; sometimes, it’s a necessary boundary. Her refusal to marry Mr. Collins out of convenience or obligation raises an important question: How often do we say yes to things just because it’s easier than explaining why we’d rather say no? Elizabeth’s confidence in her own perspective helped me think more deeply about what it means to live authentically. It’s about knowing your worth, even when others don’t.

I also came to appreciate how Pride and Prejudice critiques social structures with subtlety. The way class, gender, and reputation shape the characters’ lives made me reflect on the forces that shape mine.

In Beloved, Toni Morrison doesn’t just tell a story about slavery; she tells a story about its aftermath – the way trauma lingers in a family and in memory. Sethe carries her past not just in her mind but in her body and in her home. Through her, I began to understand how trauma can be inherited, embodied, and resisted all at once. Reading her story made me think about generational pain in a way I hadn’t before. It made me more aware of the stories people are not telling – not because they don’t matter, but because they can be too painful to name.

Together, these novels taught me to be more empathetic, more curious, and more honest – with others and with myself. Pride and Prejudice taught me to value self-respect, and Beloved taught me to never underestimate the depth of someone’s past. They both reminded me that we are shaped by stories – our own and those we inherit. Literature has given me a better way to listen, to imagine, and to see – not just what’s on the surface, but what lies underneath.