Research as leisure

But this kind of research isn’t something I always knew how to do. It’s a muscle, and I had to train it. I started in academia, and now I do it from the corner of my living room, between Slack pings and mugs of tea gone cold. I used to research as a student. Now I do it in the hours between a full-time job and the rest of my life. But the impulse—the desire to understand the world more deeply—remains the same.

curation means identifying publications and platforms that consistently publish thought-provoking, well-researched work. for me, this includes the paris review, the new yorker, the london review of books, longreads, lithub, jstor daily, aeon, psyche, the yale review, the new york review of books, hedgehog review, and nautilus, among others that i’ve listed below. these sources cover literature, philosophy, history, science, and culture with depth and nuance—offering analysis rather than just surface-level commentary.

1. Trigger Words

Every good search begins with a glimmer. An image, a sentence, a word. “Every battle is linguistic,” I once read in Girls Against God, and it stopped me mid-page. I didn’t know what I’d do with it yet, but I highlighted it. Saved it. It became a breadcrumb for later.

You don’t need a full thesis. Just an angle. A thread. Let’s say you want to write about Plato. Don’t start by typing “Plato” into Google. That’s a black hole. Instead, start on a curated encyclopedia—Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy is best for philosophy—and skim the sections. Look for something that clicks. Something off-centre. Maybe you land on “Plato’s Indirectness”—a section about how Plato rarely speaks in his own voice, instead using Socrates as a vessel. That raises questions about authenticity, intention, authorship. Now you have your spark: Plato, narrative form, indirectness. Already, you’re closer.

2. Footnotes and Bibliographies

When you find a good article or essay, crawl its bibliography. Bibliographies are treasure maps. Follow the names. Follow the hyperlinks. Find the one-line citation that leads to a whole new rabbit hole. Some of the most insightful articles I’ve read were ones I found three clicks away from where I started.

I also pull from outside academia now—quotes from novels, lines from Substacks, screenshots of tweets that are smarter than they first appear. But I treat them carefully. In university, you can’t cite just anything. On Substack, though, I like to blur those lines. If something moves me, it’s valid. But I still look for substance—something textured, something that thinks.

3. Finding Resources

If you want the academic stuff this is hard to find online. If you are fortunate to have access to a uni library (I am still an alum) then this makes it easier to find those specific articles you are looking for. JSTOR has some free stuff and you can also get some good snippets from Google Scholar.

You can also “PDF” to search terms, or “.edu” to narrow it down. I search for books by keyword, not title. I let the results lead me sideways, not just forward.

4. Don’t Read Everything

Skim first. Commit later. Especially with academic papers—read the abstract, the intro, the conclusion. That’s where the heart of the argument is. If something’s only tangentially related, make a note and move on. If it references something more specific? Chase that reference. Be ruthless with your time, gentle with your curiosity. And if the idea you are looking for is only mentioned on one line you can check if there is a reference and follow that through with the bibliography.

5. Handwrite, If You Can

Philosophy and literature are messy. Tangled. You need space to draw arrows, scribble tangents, reframe questions. I still handwrite everything when I’m in the middle of a research spiral. It’s less linear. More like thinking. I know it’s not an option for everyone (I have nerve damage in my hand, so I can only write for short bursts), but it helps me move from thought to thought more fluidly. Stream of consciousness lives better on paper.

Researching isn’t just a way of finding facts. It’s a way of finding voice. Of sculpting meaning out of uncertainty. I don’t research to be right. I research to feel closer—to myself, to a question, to an idea that won't let me go.

A film still of <n>Romy Schneider</n> in <n>Jacques Deray</n>'s 1969 film, <n>La Piscine</n>.

But though visually appealing and intellectually aspirational, many of the curricula I'm seeing don't plan for any concrete output: no essay to write, no project to complete, no question to answer. 
Without a goal for output, they're just glorified reading lists. By month's end, what do you have to show for it? Highlighted passages? A completed checklist? A vague sense of enrichment?
In that sense, the monthly curriculum trend misses out on a core tenet of what makes learning an adventure: the act of creating something with what you've learned. 

Develop an Answer
Research has to culminate, even if its culmination is more questions to research. The culmination does not have to be ground-breaking, but it does have to exist. A resolution must materialise in tangible form, as an essay, a video, a social media thread, or even a letter to a friend.
What distinguishes research as leisure from idle browsing is precisely this movement toward creation. However modest, your answer must contribute to the conversation rather than merely consuming or repeating what others have said.

But there's a difference between tourism and exploration. Many monthly curriculums are just tourism, meaning a passive wandering through other people's ideas.

The problem with your monthly curriculum

First, our information ecosystem has created collectors, rather than readers, out of us. Collecting PDFs, books, and lists of books is a uniquely thrilling pleasure but it can hamstring us. The most challenging part of gathering evidence is organising it.

often, what you want from life isn’t hidden. it’s just drowned out. silence helps you hear it again

Think about it this way: reading three books on the philosophy of mind will keep you at understanding. Writing your own position paper, building your case from those sources, allows for true engagement with the material. You've moved from being a spectator to being a participant in the intellectual conversation, and you have something to show for your efforts. 

one of my favorite strategies is using academic databases like jstor or project muse, where you can find peer-reviewed journal articles, historical texts, and serious research on virtually any subject. many of these databases have free content or allow you to read a limited number of articles per month without a subscription. google scholar is another useful tool for finding research papers and academic perspectives that offer more depth than traditional media.

the truth is, we often know what we want — we just override it in the name of productivity or comparison. energy is the most honest feedback we have. treat it like data.

sometimes the clearest path forward is through the side door. instead of hunting for a “life purpose,” try following the things that spark curiosity — even if they seem random. if you’re obsessed with old houses, watch renovation videos. if you can’t stop thinking about scent theory or 90s music videos or mushroom recipes, indulge it. don’t ask what it “leads to.” the right life often grows sideways. and what looks like a distraction may turn out to be the root of your next becoming.