the weekly reading guide (vol. 1)
(nov 3-9) — the week's essential short-form, essays, op-eds, and discussions • on justice, child marriage, ai in classrooms, history of gaslight, watson's dna, beauty politics, literacy
hello, readers. happy sunday to you.
I am what they call an avid reader — and that has its predicament. i read constantly and too quickly — getting my hands on as much as possible. this fall, one of my goals is to change that and sit with what i consume. what I preach is simple:
under the slow philosophy, i like to think of it as:
slow reading (v.) — reading slowly to savor language, understand more deeply, and think more clearly.
i stumbled upon this idea last year after promising myself that i would finish reading a classic in the new year — something I hadn’t done in years, thanks to the grind of work. i chose gustave flaubert’s madame bovary, and soon realized that the classics cannot be rushed — they demand time and attention. flaubert spent days searching for le mot juste — the right word — sometimes for a single page. it felt only fair to read him with the same care. so i read a few pages each night, and within a year, the experience was profound.
that’s when i understood it’s not how much we read, but how — and what — we choose to read. that realization sparked the series that follows. below, please find what’s included in today’s post.
introducing: a new series
i’m starting a weekly reading syllabus for the month — a series where i’ll share a curated list of the best pieces of writing i’ve read that week — alongside brief reflections on the spine of each argument so you can decide what to read and how to think with it.
my aim is to make your reading life both simpler and richer. instead of sifting through endless headlines and links, i’ll curate the week’s most worthwhile reading — a mix of paid pieces from the new york times (which, btw, currently has a $1/week digital promo) and supplement them with free-access writings that don’t require subscriptions.
it can be overwhelming to know where to start, and i understand the urge to read everything, and the paralysis that comes with it. so if you’ve ever felt overwhelmed by the sheer abundance of good writing — this series is for you. my hope is that it helps narrow your focus, save time, and deepen your relationship with reading.
each issue will arrive every week throughout november. if all goes well, we’ll continue through december and beyond.
a few things you’ll need
i’m a hopeless stationery obsessive — taking my pens and paper far too seriously, and i don’t mind one bit. to begin, gather a few analog companions:
a notebook — for journaling — i love the ones from paper source: thick, smooth pages that can take a heavy pen without bleeding. go for lay-flat binding so it stays open while you write.
a notebook — for collecting favorite words and phrases — jetpens has lovely options with grid or dot paper. japanese notebooks like md paper or apica premium are designed for fountain pens and give a buttery glide.
a blue ballpoint pen — i use bic round stics because they’re unpretentious and reliable. if you want an upgrade, try a pilot juice or uni-ball jetstream.
an hb pencil — for underlining or sketching ideas in the margins — japanese pencils like mitsubishi hi-uni or tombow mono 100 are silky and dark without crumbling. beware of the lovely smell of cedar as you sharpen them.
a good eraser — the tombow mono is a favorite.
a sharpener that feels good in the hand — kum long-point sharpeners (made in germany) give pencils a needle-sharp tip, perfect for fine annotations. if you love the tactile side of writing, this one’s a joy to use.
a pencil pouch or holder to keep everything tidy — look for a pouch with compartments so each tool has a home. leather ages beautifully, but waxed canvas or linen has its own quiet charm.
a dedicated reading nook — a corner of your home, a sunlit balcony, or a quiet neighbor café. keep a small tray nearby for your notebooks and pens, and maybe a candle or small vase of flowers. reading slowly is easier when you feel invited by your space.
blue light glasses — to protect your eyes if you’re reading on your screen.
that is all the prelude i have for today! let’s dive in to the best writings of the week.
[nov 3 - nov 9, 2025]
reading ambience of the week
curated best writing of the week
note: the pieces below span every corner of thought — newspapers, a catholic magazine, a left-wing journal, faith, politics, pop culture, literature, arts — ideas from home and abroad. each brings its own light. the aim is to think well, notice where ideas meet and where they part.
“why even basic ai use is so bad for students” (the new york times)
a thoughtful op-ed from a concerned philosophy professor reflecting on ai use in her classroom. she describes watching students become what she calls “subcognitive” — outsourcing basic mental work of outlining and summarizing, which she argues is actually the most pernicious part. thinking happens through language, and if students aren’t practicing shaping their own sentences and ideas, they slowly lose the ability to understand, reason, or form judgment at all.
“why do we allow child marriage in america” (the new york times)
this piece breaks down how child marriage is still legal in 34 states. personal stories illustrate how minors in these marriages often can’t access shelters, lawyers, or basic protections because of their age. and how even groups like planned parenthood and the aclu in states like california won’t fight to ban it — citing various bizarre reasons. it’s shocking, paralyzing, and heartbreaking. written with real heart.
“how the supreme court paved the way for revenge prosecutions” (the new york times)
there’s a minor civil war happening within the supreme court right now — something we’ve been seeing in the news. a useful piece to understand how the current judicial branch has been expanding what the executive branch is allowed to do.
“why trump can do no wrong” (the new your times)
david french, a conservative columnist, writes a thoughtful op-ed evaluating the current administration. he argues that instead of hiding wrongdoing, the president does everything openly — pardons, favors, deals, retaliations — and frames it as strength. french calls this “brazen”: a strategy that makes the very idea of wrongdoing feel irrelevant. i like to read across the aisle — tuning out the other side only deepens the divide we’re already living in.
“we used to read things in this country” (the baffler)
part lament, part satire, this essay mourns the shrinking attention span of the american public and the corporatization of reading culture. it rails against the algorithmic flattening of intellect, reminding readers that reading was once an act of resistance, not recreation. Its title feels like both an elegy and an accusation.
“james watson exemplified the best and worst of science – from monumental discoveries to sexism and cutthroat competition” (the conversation)
a balanced portrait of james watson, co-discoverer of dna. the article revisits his achievements alongside his prejudice and arrogance. what is even science without morality? idk. shout out to rosalind franklin, who should have been awarded a posthumous nobel for the discovery of dna’s molecular structure.
“put the mona lisa in its own building — for its sake and the visitors” (washington post)
argues that the mona lisa’s massive popularity has ended up working against it. the louvre forces visitors through crowded hallways only to encounter a tiny painting behind glass, with barely any time to actually look at it. after a recent jewel theft at the museum raised security concerns, the author suggests placing the mona lisa in its own transparent, climate-controlled building in the tuileries garden, making it both easier to see and harder to harm, while also relieving the louvre from its constant bottleneck of selfie-seekers.
“why doesn’t anyone trust the media?” (harper’s magazine)
four sharp media thinkers pick apart the collapse of trust in the press — the speakers point to the decline of local news, the rise of partisan silos, corporate cowardice, covid-era mistakes, and the growing pressure to please audiences rather than challenge them. they also note how lawsuits and political intimidation have made newsrooms more cautious and less confident. if traditional media continues to weaken, what essential public role disappears with it?
“why lily allen’s new breakup album has the internet hooked” (vox)
explores why this album release has become a full-blown cultural event. the record is a raw, play-by-play breakdown of her marriage ending, offering details that feel almost too intimate, and listeners are treating it like a mystery to decode. fans are obsessing over lyrics, interviews, old instagram posts, and even architectural digest clips to piece together the story. once again, we’re living in a great parasocial era. this song is a pretty scintillatingly scandalous one:
honorary mention: love and gaslight (the sophist, substack)
not from this week but a solid, human companion piece for the read above.
“two ways of disliking poetry” (public books)
looks at why poetry can feel both irresistible and irritating at the same time. it begins with marianne moore’s famous line, “i, too, dislike it,” and traces how poems invite us in but also pushing us away. the writer then turns to diane seuss, whose poems rough up traditional forms but still cling to poetry as something necessary. the piece suggests that disliking poetry is part of loving it.
“the uggo police” (the lamp)
a cultural critique on the online obsession with sydney sweeney. the politicization of beauty standards and how public figures can become screens onto which people project broader cultural tensions. a great piece to reflect using the prompts below.
“the lost ending of gaslight that you didn’t know you needed” (public books)
a fascinating essay on the origins of the term “gaslighting.” the author traces the many stage and film versions of it, uncovering a lost version — one where the wife reclaims her perception and narrative, exposing the truth herself. reframes gaslighting as psychological abuse, and empowers the possibility of resistance and trusting what you see.
guided reflection prompts
questions to help you read this week’s pieces slowly and critically.
[before reading]
what kind of truth am i about to encounter? legal (supreme court), moral (child marriage), philosophical (ai and education), political (the center), historical (revolution), cultural (mona lisa), or intellectual (reading culture, science ethics).
what assumptions do i hold about american justice, progress, or intellect?
how might these essays challenge or confirm them?what does “civilization” mean to me?
think about how art, law, education, and media shape a society’s sense of self.
[during reading]
what argument lies beneath the facts?
is the writer persuading, warning, mourning, or reminding?how does power show up?
— in law (revenge prosecutions), technology (ai in classrooms), gender (child marriage), politics (the center), knowledge (watson), or culture (art and reading).which piece feels most uncomfortable to read—and why?
discomfort is usually where growth begins.where does history echo today?
connect the “world war” framing of the revolution to current global entanglements, or the baffler essay’s nostalgia to your own reading habits.what is the tone of each publication?
compare the new york times’ authority, lithub’s reflection, the conversation’s rational analysis, and the baffler’s cultural critique.where does language carry emotion?
copy one sentence that reveals the writer’s stance through rhythm or word choice.
[after reading]
what portrait of modern america emerges across all eight pieces?
fragmented? striving? self-critical? hopeful?which essay lingered longest—and what line from it explains why?
the piece that won’t leave your head is usually telling you something about your values.if you could ask each author one question, what would it be?
(for example: to the ai critic—what would responsible use look like? to the baffler essayist—what does deep reading restore?)how does each writer define responsibility?
to students, citizens, scientists, or art itself?what kind of intelligence do these essays ask for—moral, emotional, scientific, or civic?
how does reading them together expand your sense of critical citizenship?
what does it mean, in 2025, to be both a reader and a participant in the world?
[for your journal]
write one paragraph connecting two essays that seem unrelated—say, “ai and students” with “we used to read things in this country.” what do they share about distraction, depth, or the erosion of attention?
companion playlist
music for reading, reflecting, and journaling.
paradigmatically, i will be publishing the following companion essays to serve as additional guides in the upcoming weeks. if this is up your alley, subscribe below to follow along.
that’s all for today! thank you for sticking around. see you next time.
goodbye for now.
love,
tulipe
[read more from me]
[on the shelf]
dear jane books is my official bookshop. proceeds support independent bookstores and contribute to the editorial upkeep of the slow philosophy.
Read slow. I've eschewed the Goodreads headspace of previous years, where the quantification of "things not yet read" tends toward anxiety, when it should really entail excitement, ambition, cultivation. It's good to see pushback on the shortcomings of "X books a year", especially when accompanied by directly personal prompts towards finding a deeper resonance.
thank you this is such a helpful compilation!