weekly reading guide — the best articles, essays & op-eds to read this weekend (Nov 17-23, 2025)
Vol. 3. Curated readings, slow reading, prompts for deeper critical thinking, and reflections on culture and modern life.
Note: Retiring from my lowercase minimalism era as this week, the MLA in me has risen.
Welcome to Week Three of My Weekly Reading Series! And a Happy Thanksgiving.
This month, I began a weekly guide to share the best pieces of writing I read. It’s for those who don’t have time to sift through headlines or are tired of the same stories circulating endlessly — a place for nuanced, well-rounded reading.
Featured this week: a dispatch on the lost civic value of shame; a dossier on the global erosion of deep literacy; an exploration of what public beauty reveals about a society; a bookish dive into Gutenberg’s revolution; the rise and fall of Literary Twitter; a thoughtful, slightly mournful piece on alcohol, creativity, and F. Scott Fitzgerald; a sweeping look at global depopulation; and several standout pieces from The New York Times — including essays on a surreal political meeting between President Trump and Zohran Mamdani, and a lucid explainer on post-liberalism. These pieces span free-access writing and paywalled entries (many NYT pieces are readable with their current $1/week digital subscription).
Each issue will arrive weekly throughout November.
I also shared a Slow Reading Toolkit — a few analog companions to make your reading more meaningful. You can find that, and this month’s selections so far, below:
[Nov 17 - Nov 23, 2025]
Ambiance of the Week
No more rain out here in Los Angeles, but here’s a jazzy piece from the streets of London:
This Week’s Best Pieces of Writing
Note: These pieces span every corner of thought — newspapers, a Catholic magazine, a left-wing journal, faith, politics, pop culture, literature, arts. Each brings its own light. The aim is to read widely, think critically, and notice where ideas meet and where they part. I don’t believe any school of thought should be a fan club. Accountability, nuance, and the ability to take compassionate, principled stances are the only grown-up postures in life, society, and culture. Let’s think for ourselves and find common ground.
More Shame, Please - The Dispatch
I grew up in a household where “Tulipe, have you no shame?” was practically a proverb. So this caught my eye immediately. As someone who grew up in the Eastern Hemisphere for the first part of my life and the Western Hemisphere the second, I wasn’t sure I could define “shame” in universal terms. This essay argues that shame — once a modest civic guardrail — has nearly vanished from American public life, replaced by a culture where shamelessness is a superpower. The writer moves through recent scandals to show what happens when public life loses a basic sense of decency. Shame can absolutely be weaponized in the worst ways, and yet its total absence is its own problem, leaving a vacuum where accountability should be. There has to be a middle ground: a place where people can admit fault without being annihilated, and where a basic sense of decency still matters. A thoughtful read about a feeling we’ve tried hard to outrun; and maybe need, in small, sincere doses, to stay human.
Writer:
Brain Rot Without Borders - The Baffler
The brain rot is now global. While more people than ever can technically read, fewer and fewer of us can really read, hold complexity, accept ambiguity, sustain attention, or narrate our own lives. This is a massive multi-author dossier that argues that the world is entering a crisis of “deep literacy.” I’m glad to have been introduced to this term and adopting it as a personal hill-to-die-on through The Slow Philosophy. And for good reason because the report is chilling: from China’s hyper-commercial web fiction and three-minute vertical dramas, to South Korea’s demand that literature be “easy,” (scoff), to Sudan’s split between oral culture and weaponized misinformation, to Mexico’s literature students who can no longer retell what they’ve read without sounding like Netflix synopses. And this isn’t accidental: states, platforms, and markets benefit from a citizenry that scrolls endlessly but rarely interprets. But thankfully, there are glimpses of hope: a book nook at the foot of a Philippine mountain, typewriters clacking in a Zurich bar, a Sudanese writer uploading banned novels as free PDFs. I spent time at The Last Bookstore’s new Studio City branch this weekend, and it moved me that businesses like these still flourish against the odds. It’s still a sobering and slightly devastating read. But if you care about slow reading, this is basically a field report from the front lines.
Writer:
The Writing on the Wall - The Lamp
I found this piece on vandalism, beauty, memory, and what we choose to preserve in public life deeply compelling. The writer offers a cultural lament about what has happened to the visual and moral texture of our cities. As someone who is no stranger to cultural lamentations myself, I felt exactly where he was coming from. The writer recalls old English walls marked by fading slogans, ghostly ads, and fragments of verse — not always beautiful, but full of history and meaning. . He contrasts that with modern graffiti, which he sees as more chaotic and symptomatic of a decline in public care. His sharpest critique is directed at Canterbury Cathedral, which deliberately installed fake graffiti as art—something he interprets as an abdication of its responsibility to protect beauty and the sacred. Look, art is subjective and endlessly debatable. But having seen a lot of vandalism in the many cities I’ve lived in, I have to agree that the marks we leave on our cities reflect our collective self-respect. This is a thoughtful, mournful essay about public beauty, shared responsibility, and the subtle ways a culture reveals its values. The more perceptive our art criticism becomes, the more refined our own sense of beauty grows as criticism teaches us what to notice.
Writer:
“Slice It Up” — London Review of Books
I’ve always known Gutenberg as the man who invented the printing press. Yet I owe almost everything I love in my life to that invention — books, scripts, papers, journals, newspapers, magazines. But as with anything, the real story is far bigger and stranger. Turns out, East Asia had printed books centuries earlier, and Gutenberg’s breakthrough came from a specific combination of technology and timing. Most of his career was spent printing disposable items like indulgences and grammar books, and the man himself remains a near-total mystery. For the man known for inventing the printing press, we know almost nothing about his first thirty years. Most surviving records are lawsuits, debts, and little else. We don’t even know what he looked like. Even his Bible went obsolete, with some copies torn up and used as binding scraps. He died without fame, and for centuries others were credited with his invention. Only later did antiquarians resurrect him as a foundational figure, shaping the myth we now take for granted. It’s astonishing how close he came to disappearing entirely, and even more astonishing how much of our world depends on a few fragile pages surviving long enough to be recognized. A beautifully strange origin story for something that now feels inevitable.
Writer:
”What Was Literary Twitter? The Bracket - LitHub
Literary Hub put together a chaotic, nostalgic bracket to crown the most “literary Twitter” moment of all time, and it’s a delightful time capsule of an era that felt unhinged, brilliant, petty, and communal all at once. What even is it? Literary Twitter was its own bizarre ecosystem — writers, critics, grad students, snobs, trolls, poets, and unhinged geniuses orbiting the same conversations before the platform fell apart. To answer it, they organized dozens of old discourses, scandals, memes, and meltdowns into categories like existential crises, matters of taste, bad behavior, reading comprehension, and more. All the infamous micro-dramas: Bad Art Friend, empty-chair book events, Franzen’s rules, Ferrante conspiracy detectives, the “men don’t read” discourse, Joyce Carol Oates being Joyce Carol Oates, and endless roiling arguments about MFAs, YA, fonts, and problematic favorites. It’s strangely heartwarming to see how these tiny storms shaped a decade of literary life, building careers, ending careers, and giving writers a place to be unserious on purpose, take jokes too seriously, and make mountains out of sentence-level molehills. If you ever lived through even one of these episodes, this bracket will make you laugh, wince, and remember just how weirdly alive that digital space used to be..
Writers: , (et al.)
The relationship between writing and drinking has always carried a tragic–glamorous allure. We mythologize the drunk writer the same way we romanticize the tortured artist — all haze, heartbreak, and half-finished manuscripts. Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Bukowski: the whole lineage of men who wrote like angels and drank like demons. This essay explores what happens as that era fades. Americans are drinking less, middle-aged women hate hangovers, and mocktails have replaced martinis; even writers no longer lean into the old practice of literary intoxication. The author finds this shift everywhere: nonfiction that no longer praises wild nights, fiction where drunk characters are not charming but dangerous. Fitzgerald’s little book On Booze becomes a window into a vanished age, painting him as both dazzling and doomed, his art soaked (beautifully, tragically) in alcohol. The writer calls it dazzling and painful — and it is. We raise a glass to Fitzgerald, the eternal cautionary tale and patron saint of literary intoxication, who proved that some writers can handle the bottle, and some definitely cannot.
Writer:
Are we doomed? — London Review of Books
This is a riveting, unsettling look at global depopulation and why collapsing birth rates may shape the twenty-first century even more than climate change. The essay begins in Japan, where nearly one hundred thousand people are over the age of one hundred and almost no children are being born, a demographic pyramid flipped entirely upside down. From there, the writer explores why modern life makes parenthood feel impossibly expensive, why no country has successfully reversed a falling birth rate, and how climate pressures and migration will collide with aging societies in unpredictable ways. The final section turns philosophical, suggesting that humanity’s demographic decline may have begun centuries ago and is now accelerating. It’s a sobering, beautifully argued piece about the quiet future taking shape around us.
Writer:
The Lesson We Teach Schoolchildren About the Holocaust Is Wrong - The New York Times
This essay reexamines one of the most quoted moral lines in American classrooms — “first they came for the Jews” — and explains why the version we teach is historically imprecise. In Martin Niemöller’s original confession, the Nazis came for the Communists first, a detail that shifts the entire meaning. The writer argues that this matters because it reveals how authoritarianism actually operates: through fear, purification narratives, and the belief that enemies are already inside the community. He traces how that emotional machinery unified a nation, justified violence, and blurred the lines with brutality. The real lesson of the Holocaust, he argues, is not simply “don’t be apathetic,” but to understand how fear can be weaponized, and why we fail ourselves if we don’t teach that truth in full.
Writer:
Mamdani’s Surreal and Shrewd Pragmatism - The New York Times
Days after Trump labeled him a “communist,” Zohran Mamdani walked into the Oval Office, disarmed the president, and walked out with praise and an offer of cooperation. It was a surreal moment for the country and New York’s newly elected democratic socialist mayor. This op-ed follows how he is confounding expectations from the start: he kept Police Commissioner Jessica Tisch, a centrist respected by business leaders; he has avoided needless fights with Democratic leadership; and he has built a transition team filled with experienced City Hall veterans. His administration is strikingly young, with the average applicant only twenty-eight, and his closest adviser is a thirty-four-year-old DSA member. I believe we’re looking at a politician committed to flexibility, coalition building, and a willingness to cross political lines. I hope this is the beginning of many lessons on good governance for the city and beyond.
Writer: Mara Gay
What Is Post-Liberalism, Anyway? - The New York Times
I have neither used the term nor claimed to understand the term. I appreciated this essay to finally get some clarity. he writer explains that the term actually refers to two different impulses. The first is the softer one, coming from people who are simply tired of the current liberal system and want reform, more community, and a moral or social framework that liberal individualism hasn’t provided, but who still believe in basic liberal ideas like rights and democracy. The second is the harder one, coming from people who believe liberalism itself has failed and want a completely different political foundation, whether rooted in religion, nationalism, Marxist theory, or technological visions of the future. He places these debates within a decade of upheaval: Brexit, elections, institutional failures, the psychological toll of smartphones, secularization, deindustrialization, migration, and Covid. It was a decade when everyone’s mental wallpaper seemed to peel off at once. He warns against grand theories that blame everything on historical forces, and also against anyone who claims to already know where politics is heading. No one does. Whatever comes next will probably be an unexpected mix of ideas.
Writer:
Guided Reflection Prompts
Questions to help you read this week’s pieces slowly, critically, and with emotional intelligence.
[Before Reading]
What mood am I bringing into these essays, and how might that shape what I notice first — the argument, the tone, or the feeling beneath it?
What assumptions do I already have about shame, literacy, drinking, or depopulation — and am I willing to let these pieces complicate them?
What part of me is hungry to be expanded this week: my intellect, my ethics, my sense of beauty, or my understanding of human behavior?
[During Reading]
Where do I feel a tug of discomfort or recognition — a sentence that hits a nerve, a moment that feels too familiar, or a claim that makes me pause?
What is the writer trying to protect or preserve — an idea, a value, a cultural memory, a fear — and how do they reveal that through their examples?
What small image or detail (a century-old indulgence slip, a subway scribble, a hangover at forty, a deserted Japanese apartment) lingers in my mind, and why?
[After Reading]
How have these pieces shifted my sense of what “modern life” means — or what it quietly costs?
Which argument feels most alive in me now: the need for collective shame, the death of deep literacy, the fragility of public beauty, the myth of the drunk writer, or the demographic cliff?
What part of my own life — my attention span, my habits, my care for others, my anxieties about the future — feels illuminated or challenged?
[For Your Journal]
What stayed with me the longest after reading — and why that, out of everything?
Companion Playlist
Music for reading, reflecting, and journaling.
That’s all for today. See you next time.
Goodbye for now.
Love,
Tulipe
[On the Shelf]
Dear Jane Books is my official bookshop. Proceeds support independent bookstores and contribute to the editorial upkeep of The Slow Philosophy.
This is quite interesting, Tulipe. Other than the list itself, I really like the prompts - before reading, post and for self reflection.
Making reading intentional and taking something from it- is most important to avoid mindless consumption.
Thank you so much for reaching out and sharing it. 🫶
Yet another great list of readings for the weekend!
Thank you :)
As for the one on the declining birth rate. I genuinely believe the main reasons behind it are not uncertainties, climate change, or economic instability, but the overall decay of our moral grounds.