Over the past 15 years, I have witnessed university students’ shrinking patience for reading – especially for reading “long” books. Increasingly, students also opt for audiobooks. While speeding up the reading experience, these fundamentally change what is noticed.

The neuroscientist Maryanne Wolf suggests many students no longer have the “cognitive patience” to read long books due to the complexities of thought and sustained attention required.

One explanation for this shift is the dominance of digital technology in our daily lives, which has rewired our brains for surface-level scanning and multitasking, weakening our capability for prolonged attention. Another is our culture of instant gratification.

Some studies into the “screen inferiority effect” suggest when we read on paper (rather than on screens such as smartphones) the brain often processes more deeply and comprehension is better. Memory and information recall are also stronger.

So where does this leave the classics?

Millions of Australians, both children and adults, struggle with literacy.

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Many books considered “classics” are long. Masterpieces such as Middlemarch or Les Misérables might seem intimidating because in physical form they resemble door stops and they often have complex, demanding language and long, convoluted sentences.

But reading the classics can deliver cognitive, social, emotional and even ethical benefits, helping us strengthen habits of thoughtful attention and develop the skills to communicate with clarity and empathy.

Extending our attention spans increases our ability to connect thoughts and ideas, challenges memory and recall and perhaps helps us attend more patiently to our own lives and the lives of others. In reading Robinson Crusoe, for instance, we share in the patience of the title character, stranded on a desert island. We, too, pay careful heed to details and signs in the world around him.

The complex language of classics can help us discern meaning amid a multitude of voices. When working through multiple sentence clauses and the layered sentences of a meaningful paragraph we need to suspend judgement until we have the fuller picture. Following complex and interwoven narratives also helps us to understand human complexity in real life.

Here are some tips for reading the classics – and some shorter ones to start with.

1. Follow your instincts

Find out which classic novels influenced the development of your favourite genre and you might find a natural fit. My brilliant English teacher at school, Mr Taylor, knew I loved detective fiction, so he kept recommending Wilkie Collins’s The Moonstone as an early example of crime mystery. Eventually taking his advice, I loved it and followed it with Collins’s other classic, The Woman in White.

2. Remove distractions

It can help to set aside dedicated reading time, such as 20–30 minutes a day in which phones, smartwatches and other devices are out of the way. There is an added benefit: research by Mindlab International has shown reading for only six minutes reduces stress levels by 68%.

3. Make a note of memorable sentences

You don’t need a teacher to notice powerful moments or startling language. For example, Charles Dickens’s opening to A Tale of Two Cities (“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times …”) famously captures the coexistence of extremes in the world – of hope and despair, of wisdom and foolishness. Dickens has crafted an enduring truth of human experience.

4. Ask yourself questions

Why is this considered a classic? Why do I dislike this particular character? Why does this scene make me feel uncomfortable? Usually, the author wants you to consider why things were written the way they were (rather than, for example, with a different vocabulary or narrative voice). Asking questions deepens comprehension.

5. Embrace the unknown

If longer sentences or old-fashioned language trip you up, go over them again and then keep going. Kindles offer instant definitions at the touch of the screen but sometimes looking up every word in the dictionary can interfere with the opportunity to deduce meaning from context.

6. Be ready to laugh

Some classic novels are downright funny. I am currently reading Anthony Trollope’s The Warden. The sentences may be long, but they are almost always punctuated with hilarious insights into the hypocrisies of human beings and the naming rights the author deploys are childishly funny.

7. Read aloud

Classic novels were often serialised and read aloud in instalments in families or community groups. As a teenager, some of my most memorable early forays into the classics were shared with a dear cousin while staying with our grandparents in the Blue Mountains, when we would read aloud to each other on wintry, windy nights by the fireplace. Here, I first encountered Daphne Du Maurier’s evocative West Country mystery Rebecca and Dodie Smith’s eccentric and funny I Capture the Castle. Begin your adventure into the classics by reading aloud with a friend or in a book club.

8. Don’t feel too daunted

Remember that getting started with the story, getting to know the writer’s style, gradually piecing together the world of the novel can be the hardest stage. Take your time, be patient and persist. The further you get into a novel like War and Peace, the easier it is to continue because you simply want to know what happens.

Here are three short classics worth the journey.

George Eliot’s Silas Marner

A heartwarming study of the “inward life” of Silas, the weaver, exiled from his fellowship of narrow religious sectarians. He finds purpose in life, first in money and then in the fatherly love he develops for Eppie, the child who wanders into his home. Silas Marner is an accessible taster of Eliot’s longer experiments exploring emotion and “fellow feeling”.

James Joyce’s Dubliners

This book is, strictly speaking, a collection of 12 short stories. Together they form a masterpiece of brutal Anglo-Irish realism interrupted by moments of epiphany. The book contends with questions of action and inaction, betrayal, political idealism and pragmatism. The story of Eveline, who is on the cusp of eloping with the “very kind, manly, and open-hearted” Frank on a night-boat to Buenos Aires to escape the ill-treatment of her ageing, abusive father, leaves the reader astonished by the sudden departure in the final lines from her earlier rational self-analysis.

Virginia Woolf’s Mrs Dalloway

An experimental novel set on one summer’s day in London, 1923. The socialite Clarissa Dalloway prepares a party but the absence of any chapter breaks in the book creates for the reader a sense of the stifling impact of war that still lingers over British family, social and political life. In the trauma of returned soldier Septimus Smith we read an early fictional exploration of shell shock.

Johanna Harris does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

The first Monday in May marks the annual Met Gala: a collision of celebrities, designers and cultural icons. Established in 1948, the gala was originally a high-society event held to raise money for the Costume Institute of The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

When former editor-in-chief of Vogue Anna Wintour took over in 1995, she shifted the focus from New York’s elites to celebrities, launching it into a fashion juggernaut.

Each year brings a new theme and new dress code. The theme reflects the Costume Institute’s latest exhibition (which opens the following day). The dress code translates this theme into creative direction for gala attendees.

This year’s theme is Costume Art, and the dress code is Fashion is Art. These ideas showcase fashion as an embodied art form, and explore the historical connection between clothing, the body, the wearer and art.

So, is fashion art? And if so, at what point do clothes transform from something practical to something artistic?

Is fashion art?

Throughout his career, German fashion designer Karl Lagerfeld (1933–2019) upheld the separation of fashion and art. “Art is art, fashion is fashion”, he said.

Lagerfeld’s words were based on a distinction that is commonly understood in the art world between fine art and decorative art.

Fine art is a creative expression designed to elicit an emotional or intellectual response. Artists can work on a single piece for years to create something unique. Traditionally, this category has included paintings, sculpture and poetry.

Decorative art is aesthetically pleasing, but also functional, commercial and mass produced. Examples include home decoration and fashion.

Unlike fine artists, decorative artists or designers generally don’t have the luxury of time, and must continually produce products for market consumption. For these reasons, Lagerfeld didn’t see fashion as art.

Conversely, pop artist Andy Warhol (1928–87) declared: “fashion is more art than art is”.

Warhol’s works were defined by themes of pop culture, consumerism, capitalism and the mass media. They held a mirror to society. Fashion does this too. In addition to being emotional, intellectual and creative, it can reveal the norms and values of a society.

Warhol’s art often crossed into the fashion world through collaborations with designers such as Diane Von Furstenberg and Halston.

Italian fashion designer Elsa Schiaparelli (1890–1973) also saw the merit of fashion as art, stating “designing is not a profession but an art”.

Schiaparelli was one of the earliest designers to challenge the distinction between art and fashion. Her works are currently on display at London’s Victoria and Albert Museum, as part of a broader trend of museums and galleries showcasing haute couture as art in its own right.

Haute couture (which translates to “high dressmaking”) is exclusive, high-end fashion that is different from mass-produced ready-to-wear clothing.

One of the first major haute couture exhibits came in 2011 from the Met itself. Over three months, more than 600,000 people visited Alexander McQueen: Savage Beauty, making it one of the Met’s most visited exhibits in history.

Public appetite has only grown since then. Last year, the Louvre Couture exhibit in Paris received more than one million visitors.

Read more: How self-taught, self-made mavericks Vivienne Westwood and Rei Kawakubo redefined punk

Fashion and modern society

Haute couture may be art, but what about everyday fashion? Can that be art too?

Designer John Galliano (1960–) suggested as much when he said, “the joy of dressing is an art”.

Dressing is an active practice and is vital for participation in society – not just for the sake of modesty, but because attire speaks of identity. Clothing designates how people want to be perceived, and can be an important marker of gender, social status, political affiliation and heritage.

Haute couture artists are also becoming more accessible to the public, reflecting a societal shift that recognises – and even craves – fashion as art.

John Galliano was the lead designer at Christian Dior from 1997 to 2011, the so-called “golden age of haute couture”. He is currently partnered with fast-fashion giant Zara in a two-year collaboration deal.

Perhaps then, fashion becomes art when it transcends functionality and becomes performative, creative or inspirational.

Interpreting Met Gala fashions

So how might we approach judging fashion as art at this year’s Met Gala?

First, ask yourself if the outfit evokes emotion. Not just awe or joy – but even shock, hate or fascination. The primary purpose of art is to elicit feeling.

In 2022, Kim Kardashian sparked outrage when she wore Marilyn Monroe’s famous “Happy Birthday, Mr President” dress to the gala.

The theme that year was In America: An Anthology of Fashion. For many people, Monroe and her famous gown represented the height of American culture.

Kim’s use of the dress sparked broader conversations about historical objects, ethics and celebrity culture. Some also accused her of damaging it.

As you watch this year’s gala, it’s worth examining whether any of the outfits stimulate a thought or conversation about politics, history, technology or culture.

Designers often use colours, textiles and shapes to express something about society. These messages may be subtle, or at times quite explicit.

In 2021, American politician Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez wore a white gown with “tax the rich” written on the back, referencing the extreme wealth disparity in the United States.

Fashion reflects who we are, and the world we live in. If that isn’t art, I don’t know what is.

Grace Waye-Harris does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

When white smoke rose above the Sistine Chapel on May 8 2025, the surprise was immediate. The Catholic Church’s leadership had elected its first pope born in the United States, a former Augustinian missionary in Peru who few expected to win.

One year later, the story is not about celebration or verdicts. It is about difficulty. Leo XIV’s first year reveals how hard it is to govern a global church shaped by division, reform and competing expectations.

That difficulty has not remained internal.

Leo’s interventions on war, migration and the meaning of a consistent pro-life ethic have drawn him into global politics, most sharply when US President Donald Trump attacked him and, in doing so, turned a cautious pope into an even more visible moral figure.

Criticism from Trump brought Leo unexpected attention – and, among many, a measure of admiration.

Read more: Pope Leo’s resolute response to Trump attack reveals a man of God, not politics

In terms of his role as pontiff, the pattern now emerging is clear. Leo is trying to combine Francis’s reform agenda with tighter structures, a stronger emphasis on unity, and a renewed stress on Catholic social teaching. Whether that balance can hold remains the central question of his pontificate.

Peace as a starting point

Leo’s priorities were clear from his first appearance.

Standing on the balcony of St Peter’s Basilica, he greeted the crowd with the words, “Peace be with all of you”. He repeated that emphasis days later at his inauguration mass on May 18 2025, calling for a church marked by unity, dialogue and reconciliation.

Read more: ‘Peace be with all of you’: how Pope Leo XIV embodies a living dialogue between tradition and modernity

This language reflects both theology and experience. Before becoming pope, Robert Prevost spent decades working in Peru, including as Bishop of Chiclayo from 2015 to 2023, where he dealt directly with poverty, migration and political tension. His instinct is pastoral and conciliatory.

But his first year as pope has shown that peace is not a theme that resolves conflict. It is a framework within which conflict must be managed.

Inheriting Francis, but not repeating Francis

Leo’s pontificate begins with a complex inheritance.

Pope Francis, who made Prevost a cardinal in 2023 and appointed him prefect of the Dicastery for Bishops, left a church divided over reform.

Leo has not positioned himself as a simple continuation. His choice of name signals a shift. By invoking Leo XIII, author of Rerum Novarum (1891), he places Catholic social teaching at the centre of his agenda, particularly in response to artificial intelligence and technological change, which he has repeatedly described as a new kind of industrial revolution.

This reflects his formation. Trained as a canon lawyer in Rome and shaped by Augustinian spirituality, he combines legal precision with a theology of authority as service. The result is a pontificate that seeks continuity, but with clearer boundaries.

Reform

Leo’s early decisions show a preference for consolidation rather than expansion of reform.

In November 2025, he updated the Regulations of the Roman Curia, aligning them with Francis’s constitution Praedicate Evangelium. He also confirmed that leadership roles in Vatican City governance can be held by lay people, including women, removing earlier restrictions.

These moves build on Francis, but also regularise his reforms.

The same pattern appeared in January 2026, when Leo convened a consistory – a formal meeting of cardinals – and asked them to submit written reflections on key themes. He also proposed regular annual meetings of the College of Cardinals, signalling a more structured advisory model.

This reflects his background. As prior general of the Augustinian order from 2001 to 2013, he governed a global religious network, travelling widely and managing diversity through institutional processes rather than personal style alone.

A focus on social teaching

If governance reveals Leo’s method, social teaching reveals his focus.

In his first apostolic exhortation, he placed the poor, migrants and the vulnerable at the centre of Christian life. This is consistent with his earlier work in Peru, where he supported refugee communities and criticised political violence.

As pope, he has continued this line. He has opposed armed conflict, criticised nationalism and warned against the dehumanising effects of artificial intelligence. He has also reaffirmed Francis’s environmental teaching.

The Jubilee Year of 2025 gave him a global platform. With around 33 million pilgrims in Rome, he used the occasion to criticise consumerism and anti-foreigner sentiment, asking whether Christians truly recognise the stranger as a neighbour. This is not simply rhetoric. It is the core of his claim about the church’s role in the modern world.

Priorities

Leo’s travel choices reinforce that message.

His first apostolic journey, to Turkey and Lebanon in November and December 2025, combined ecumenical symbolism with diplomacy. The visit to Iznik in Turkey, site of the Council of Nicaea, marked the 1,700th anniversary of a foundational moment in Christian unity.

His April 2026 journey to Africa, covering Algeria, Cameroon, Angola and Equatorial Guinea, was even more revealing. It placed the church’s mission in the global south at the centre of his pontificate.

This reflects his own biography. As a dual citizen of the US and Peru, and a missionary shaped by Latin America, Leo embodies a church that is no longer centred on Europe alone.

Where tensions are sharpest

The real test of Leo’s approach lies in the controversies.

His comments linking abortion, capital punishment and the treatment of migrants into a single “pro-life” ethic provoked strong reactions, particularly in the United States. Critics argued these issues belong in different moral categories.

Debates around LGBTQ+ Catholics have exposed another fault line. Leo has signalled a more welcoming tone, while maintaining doctrinal continuity, including the church’s teaching on marriage. His caution reflects a broader concern: avoiding change through practice that appears to bypass formal teaching.

The abuse crisis remains the most serious challenge. Allegations relating to his earlier career, including his time in Peru and the US, have drawn scrutiny. While he has insisted on accountability and encouraged victims to come forward, the credibility of his leadership will depend on outcomes rather than statements.

Politics, power and pressure

Leo’s first year has also shown how quickly papal authority intersects with global politics.

As the first pontiff born in the US, his position carries geopolitical weight. His criticism of migration policies and armed conflict has brought him into tension with political leaders, including Trump, who publicly attacked him in 2026.

At the same time, Leo has maintained a consistent diplomatic line. He has called for ceasefires in Ukraine and Gaza, criticised military escalation in the Middle East, and warned against what he described as a “delusion of omnipotence” in global politics.

This places him in a familiar papal role, but in a more polarised international environment.

An emerging pattern, not a final verdict

After one year, Leo XIV’s pontificate is still taking shape.

He is a first in many ways: the first US-born pope, the first Augustinian pope, and a leader formed across two continents. But those facts matter less than the governing pattern now visible.

Leo speaks the language of peace, unity and social responsibility, while trying to stabilise reform and maintain doctrinal continuity. His approach is cautious, structured and shaped by experience rather than dramatic gestures.

The tensions of this first year are not distractions. They are the reality of the church he now leads, and the measure of whether his attempt to hold it together can succeed.

Darius von Guttner Sporzynski does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.