I grew up as an avid reader. I would go to the library and check

When Julie Plec confessed, “I grew up as an avid reader. I would go to the library and check out 40 books a week. Some of them were smarty books; most of them were Sweet Valley High and young teen romance,” she revealed a truth that resonates through the ages: that the hunger for story is one of the oldest hungers of humankind. Her words remind us that wisdom does not always begin in lofty tomes or the weighty scrolls of philosophers, but often in the pages of popular tales that stir the imagination and awaken the heart.

The origin of her reflection lies in her own childhood, where the library became a temple and books became companions. To take forty volumes into her hands each week was not merely the act of a curious child—it was the act of one who yearned for worlds beyond her own, who sought in every page the promise of escape, wonder, and meaning. The so-called “smarty books” gave her knowledge, but the romances of youth gave her something equally vital: emotional truth, the rehearsal of love, longing, friendship, and the perils of the human heart.

Throughout history, the avid reader has been the seed of the future storyteller. Miguel de Cervantes, the author of Don Quixote, was himself a devourer of chivalric romances, though many called them frivolous in his time. Yet from those "lesser" stories came one of the greatest novels ever written. Or consider C.S. Lewis, who as a boy lost himself in fairy tales, myths, and fantastical stories, only to weave those very threads into the timeless chronicles of Narnia. In the same way, Plec’s immersion in Sweet Valley High and teen romances gave her the instinct to later shape tales of love, drama, and passion that would reach millions.

Her words remind us that there is no such thing as a “guilty pleasure” in reading. Every book, whether praised by critics or loved by teenagers, has the power to shape the soul. The so-called “smarty books” sharpened Plec’s mind, but the teen romances sharpened her empathy and her ability to capture the fragile intensity of youth. To dismiss one in favor of the other is to misunderstand the whole nature of reading, for wisdom is gathered both from reason and from feeling.

The deeper meaning of her reflection is that stories are practice for life. When the young read about heartbreak, they learn resilience. When they follow a heroine navigating friendship and betrayal, they prepare for the same trials in their own lives. The books of Plec’s youth were not mere entertainment; they were training grounds for her imagination, building in her the capacity to tell stories that others could later live through and learn from.

The lesson, then, is timeless: read widely, and never be ashamed of what you love to read. For every page carries something of value, and even the lightest tale may kindle the spark of creation within you. What matters is not the prestige of the book, but the fire it lights in the heart of the reader. From fairy tales to romances, from comedies to classics, all stories are strands of the tapestry that forms a soul.

Practical wisdom flows from this. If you are young, let your hunger for books be vast—take what calls to you, and let no one shame you for your tastes. If you are older, recall the books that stirred your heart in childhood, and know that they shaped who you became. And if you guide the young, do not sneer at the stories they choose; encourage them instead, for each book is a doorway, and every doorway leads to growth.

Thus, Julie Plec’s words rise beyond nostalgia and become teaching. To be an avid reader is to carry many lives within you; to embrace both “smarty books” and teen romances is to balance knowledge with empathy. And so the wisdom is this: honor every story, for the stories you love today may shape the voice you give to the world tomorrow.