Chapter 3 reads Vladimir Nabokov’s banned, belle-lettristic best-seller Lolita as a complex interrogation of the presiding sexual, legal, and literary critical formalisms of the postwar period. Nabokov’s pathological protagonist, Humbert Humbert, attempts to produce the compliant literary and legal confession of a pedophile. His account requires that he characterize his sexual subjectivity as fixed and antecedent to the forbidden class of objects (children or, in his own rarefied taxonomy, nymphets) for which he has an unnatural desire. But his fine-grained account of his desire for Lolita cannot successfully repress, indeed depends on, a more fluid and relational erotic dynamic: his confession must simultaneously deny and rely on Lolita’s own position as sexual agent in order to illuminate his desire and his deeds. Likewise, the literary loyalty oaths taken by the novel’s formalist defenders (including Nabokov himself) and moralist detractors alike contain kindred contradictions. Ultimately the failure of these legal and literary confessions served to reveal the unsustainability of the oppositions – morality/aesthetics, natural desire/perversion, ordinary subjectivity/monstrosity – on which the concept of the postwar desiring subject was predicated.

In Leviathan, the foundation and stability of commonwealth arises from agreement about what is good and how the good is to be obtained. Hobbes argues that we all agree that peace and the means to peace are good, and such agreement, which Hobbes associates closely with reason, is a necessary condition on the covenant to form the commonwealth. However, there is also significant diversity. The chapter offers an account of this diversity, which poses a threat to the stability and success of commonwealths. Overcoming the threat depends upon the plasticity of our passions. Hobbes suggests that the passions that characterize us, even if they are diverse, are not plastic: most of us are dominated by fear; a few of us by other passions; and we cannot change who we are in this respect enough for such changes to matter to social theory. Reason also is fixed: a few, great social scientists perhaps can acquire the ability to reason better than they do, but whole populations cannot. We are notably plastic, however, in the objects of our passions. It is this plasticity that prudent sovereigns can exploit in order to bring about thriving commonwealths.

The Introduction examines the emergence of the psychopath, situating his literary, scientific, popular, and legal representations within a conceptual genealogy of monstrosity in order to frame the interanimating relationship between the form of persons and the form of novels. As a hitherto unrecognized extension of this genealogy, the psychopath marks the impact of a historically specific set of anxieties about white masculinity on more abstract conceptions of the human. The chapters of the book pair masculinity’s others – women, children, black men, queer men, and white men themselves – against a variety of mid-century representational debates about the novel.

Chapter 5 examines the domestication of queer desire and generic traditionalism in Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood. For a novel written on the eve of Stonewall, by an openly gay author, and narrating the explosive obliteration of the citadel of the heteronormative family by two pathologized protagonists, there has been remarkably little agreement about the place, or even the presence, of same-sex desire in the text. Similarly, Capote’s generic innovation in creating the nonfiction novel has ultimately been overshadowed by the text’s classification as simply a heavily factual return to nineteenth-century realism. This chapter offers an explanation for these contradictions by reading them as a function of Capote’s challenge to the binaries informing both desire and literary representation at the moment. On this account, the hetero/homo binary that constituted the period’s framework for thinking about desire and the truth/fiction binary around which debates about New Journalism centered were both inflected by a heteronormative impulse to consider homosexual desire fiction and heterosexual desire fact. Ironically, disrupting the fact/fiction dyad itself, we might reappropriate this mapping by recasting heteronormative desire as an ossified, repressive status quo and queer desire as the exploration of as-yet-unseen possibilities of imagined alternatives.

This chapter offers a phenomenological analysis of the intentionality of desires. It argues that desires are complex intentional states that entail both axiological and conative characters in relations of founding. By explicating the intentionality of desires, the chapter demonstrates that desires are similar to emotions as well as volitions but also differ crucially from both. Whereas emotion can lack conative components, desires always posit some goals or other, and strive for their posited goals. Unlike full-fledged volitions, however, desires entail deeply affective axiological components. The first section of the chapter provides the basic conceptual tools that are needed for a phenomenological analyses of the intentionality of desires. The second section distinguishes intentional desires from pre-intentional drives, affections, and feelings. It thereby clarifies the type of object-directedness that is characteristic of desire. The third section then explicates the axiological and conative constituents of desires in the interest of distinguishing desires from both emotions and volitions. The final section throws light on the temporality of desires. It argues that the intentionality of desires provides them with a specific “temporal shape” and makes them future-orientated. At the same time, this gives them a strong interest in realities and prospects of realization.

In dialogue with Nietzsche, Heidegger, and Shakespeare, this chapter articulates the difference between an “idol” of experience, which necessarily disappoints desire, and an “icon” of experience, which necessarily surprises; it sketches the parallels between two iconic modes of experience, Heidegger’s wonder for being and St. Francis’s thanksgiving for existence, and it argues that the latter constitutes a unique phenomenological reduction, which distinguishes aletheism from other forms of phenomenology as well as separates it from other sciences. “That desired and hidden other, which thankfully causes the world and me to be, is ‘God’.”

It is proposed that spirituality and psychiatry, commonly held to be separate concerns, are in fact deeply entangled and inseparable. Meaning-making, an important concern of spirituality, is important to human well-being and needs to be taken more seriously by psychiatry. The damage done by historical antagonisms between psychiatry and religion needs to be undone by affirmation of spiritual concerns within psychiatric practice and by closer partnerships between psychiatry and faith communities. Professional boundaries need to be understood not as protecting psychiatry as secular space (which many religious patients find hostile to their spiritual concerns) but as protecting safe therapeutic space within which psychological recovery and spiritual growth may occur. Psychiatrists need to develop an interest in clinical theology, as a way of understanding the ordinary theological concerns of patients (including their ‘atheologies’). Psychiatry needs to be more spiritually attentive – to shed light on what patients desire spiritually and psychologically – rather than focussing only on the metaphorical shadows of psychopathology. Psychiatry needs to keep spirituality in mind.

Psychological therapies are another focus for entanglement with spirituality. Prayer has caused concern in the literature, particularly in respect of boundary issues arising when clinicians pray with patients, but the nature of prayer is explored here rather as a way of giving attention to things that are most desired. Scientific evidence suggests that prayer is a form of positive religious coping for patients. Mindfulness, with its roots in Buddhism, is widely applied as a secular spiritual intervention that is helpful in a range of mental health conditions. Silence has long been recognised as a significant and meaningful phenomenon within psychotherapy, but also has its place in contemplative spiritual practices. A theme running through these three practices is that of careful attentiveness, in which spiritual and psychological concerns become entangled. Good clinical practice requires careful attention-giving, so there is a sense in which treatment planning in psychiatry can be considered a kind of prayer, understood as careful attentiveness to what is most desired by patients. Examples are drawn from Christian, Islamic and Buddhist spirituality and practice.

This chapter focuses on the aesthetic appeal of inanimate nature, plants, and animals. Hegel’s ontological privileging of living beings, and especially of animal bodies, comes hand in hand with their aesthetic privileging, and so particular focus is given to the beauty of animateness, and especially to that of animal bodies. It is argued that, while most appearances of animal life serve to disclose their finitude, and so their ontological dependency, there are striking moments in which their remarkable animateness stands out as such. And given that Hegel gives us good reason to think of life, in its ontology, as an essentially infinite and autonomous movement, this conspicuousness of animation provides us with an ephemeral glimpse of a more profound beauty. As the various dimensions of animation and its ways of appearing are explored in some detail, the chapter comes to argue, somewhat counter to Hegel though for Hegelian reasons, that it is particularly in animal movement – as opposed to the more static shape of the animal body, which is largely Hegel’s focus – that the full splendor of animateness is revealed.

This chapter reconceptualises environmental competence as a dynamic capability rooted in an interconnected blend of knowledge, skills, attitudes, values, understanding and desire. Drawing on foundational models, it examines the structural components of pro-environmental behaviour and links these to empirical studies emphasising the foundations of ecological action. Building on this, the chapter introduces dynamic frameworks – particularly the sustainability competency models developed by Wiek, Withycombe and Redman and extended by Redman and Wiek – which emphasise collaborative, anticipatory, normative and strategic dimensions of sustainability planning. Through reflective tasks and case-based learning, readers are encouraged to recognise and cultivate transformative competencies, such as intercultural mediation and intra-personal awareness, essential for navigating global environmental challenges. The chapter also highlights concepts like Kickwa alli kawsay and Japanese kizuna as culturally embedded pathways towards sustainable living, reinforcing the argument that environmental competence must be pluralistic, inclusive and action-oriented. Ultimately, the text advocates for a holistic shift from static notions of competence to adaptive, integrative models that empower individuals and communities to enact meaningful change within diverse societal contexts.

This chapter discusses the dazzling array of creativity that is language and metaphor in Pindar, in terms of its impact on us as its consumers and in terms of the questions that aspects of lyric diction and style ask of us. The discussion reaffirms the importance of close reading from the inside out as the key to appreciating the nature and challenge of Pindaric lyric. It assesses the powers and risks that come with lyric language in detail and across time, as readers and audiences are stopped in their tracks. The chapter discusses the experiential potential of a representative selection of examples taken from across the corpus, in three sections. Section 1, ‘Options’, investigates how Pindaric lyric fosters both a freedom of expression and an encouragement to audiences and readers to keep their minds open in response. Section 2, ‘Colours of Desire’, explores the sustained intensificatory effects of marked imagery in one extended example from Olympian 6. Section 3, ‘Access and Appropriateness’, explores how the hyperbolic nature of lyric imagery may raise further questions about our commitments to the sentiments that Pindaric lyric finds itself able to project.

The earth’s shadow darkens the initial Heavens of Dante’s ascent, the shadow waning the nearer a Heaven is to that of the Sun.The inhabitants of the last earth-shadowed Heaven turn to that Heaven hoping to be free from the imperfections of terrestrial existence.But these Heavens’ vestigial earthiness exerts an effect.Each focuses on a particular imperfection: the fragility of moral vows; the defect of human law as a vehicle of justice; and the reign of “mad love.”These produce an urge to transcend this region.

But Dante has readers assess the losses as well as the gains that accrue when we leave our world behind.This assessment puts reason on trial, its inadequacies seeming to sanction reason’s subordination to faith as provided in the vision that beckons above.But these Heavens ask not only whether that’s possible but desirable.Reason’s inadequacies are shown to be inseparable from moral responsibility, from more just politics, and from the desires that generate the Comedy.Asking whether the transcendence of terrestrial existence makes for a happier life, Dante gives readers cause to consider the possibility that these earth-shadowed Heavens are more than merely a necessary step on the way to perfection.

This chapter begins with the Phenomenology’s brief critique of Kantian moral theory. Hegel credits Kant with reconciling the objective validity of rational criteria with their status as self-authored, while failing to make good on his own insight. Since, on Hegel’s diagnosis, Kant’s conception of the will is a reified abstraction from social ‘actuality’, he assigns it a spurious self-sufficiency, leading to an unsatisfactory picture of the nature of practical reason. The chapter then turns to Hegel’s strategy for undoing this conception, namely by traveling the two paths Kant opened up but did not take. Taking the first path means appreciating that rational criteria cannot have their basis in features of the individual agent considered in isolation; instead, criteria must be those agents can act upon in institutional actuality while still recognising themselves as their authors. Taking the second entails seeing resistance and alienation as productive phenomena, symptoms not of structural deficits of the human will, but of conflicts between what freedom seems to demand at a given socio-historical juncture and what it really does. Taking both paths, therefore, entails a recognition that what counts as respectively internal and external to free subjectivity is subject to both synchronic and diachronic variation.

This chapter begins the work of showing how the Phenomenology effects a transition from Kantian to Hegelian theodicy. It begins with Hegel’s exposition of self-consciousness, since this sets the terms for his subsequent analyses. Indeed, the famous ‘Self-Consciousness’ chapter thematises the very possibility of criteria of goodness by unfolding elementary structures of human autonomy. The chapter then turns to Hegel’s developmental account of Kant’s understanding of freedom as autonomy, which functions simultaneously as a critique: he presents Kant’s practical thought as the result of a progressive, rational development, while also diagnosing it as the product of a series of abstractions and reifications, whereby Kant conflates his insight into the nature of freedom with a certain methodologically individualistic metaphysics of the human being. The chapter focuses on the first of three key phases in the Phenomenology that engage with Kantian theodicy and its underlying view of the will, namely the somewhat satirical presentation of ‘Virtue’, which Hegel classifies as a shape of ‘Reason’. By charting the interrelated views of goodness and the will that produce and are produced by ‘Virtue’, we can uncover a developmental logical that leads to the Kantian idea of freedom as self-authorship.

While many scholars have argued that Augustine’s theology of grace underwent a shift around 418, making the grace of faith more inward, Chapter 5 proposes that instead, Augustine’s vocabulary of faith simply expands to encompass hopeful and loving faith, which are due to inward graces. Augustine’s expanded vocabulary can be seen especially through his distinction between three different senses of credere (believing). Credere Christum – believing truths about Christ – is necessary for true virtue, since faith orders actions to their ultimate end, but is not sufficient for it. Credere Christo – believing Christ – justifies when motivated by hope. Hope is both the desire for the grace to love and the first beginning of love by grace. Hope therefore explains many puzzles in Augustine’s mature theology of grace. Lastly, credere in Christum – believing in Christ – is a synecdoche for faith, hope, and love. It signifies not merely the means to righteousness but participation in Christ and the very essence of human righteousness.

The recreative view of the imagination sees it as a ‘mirror’ of basic mental attitudes: There are imaginative (pretend) variants of beliefs, i-beliefs (ordinarily called imaginings), i-seeings (visualizings), i-desires, i-emotions … the imagination is ‘half of psychic life’, as Meinong put it. The single attitude rival view sees the imagination instead as a sui generis nonderivative mental attitude, with distinctive traits: distinctive functional roles, distinctive norms to which it is beholden, and a distinctive phenomenology. This chapter confronts a recent argument by analogy for i-desires, due to Greg Currie, which is based on an alleged parallel between beliefs and desires. The chapter argues in response that this argument fails because the parallel on which it relies fails to obtain on different influential accounts of desires. The discussion strengthens responses to earlier arguments for i-desires.

Porphyry and Iamblichus added further levels of virtue to Plotinus’ scale of virtues. In Chapter 8 I discuss Iamblichus’ On the Pythagorean Life, which presents Pythagoras as a model of the political virtues. I show how, on this level, Iamblichus takes over Epicurean ideas about serenity, freedom from disturbance, a balanced control of desires and bodily needs and how, more generally, the Epicurean biographical practice of praising philosophical heroes as models to be imitated anticipates Iamblichus’ presentation of the figure of Pythagoras. I note also a wider use of Epicurean ethical ideas in Late Antique Platonism, in particular on the level of political virtues, the virtues of the discipline of bodily desires.

In Chapter 7 I discuss the consequences, as regards the theory of virtue, of Plotinus’ denial that ‘spirit’ (thumos) and ‘desire’ (epithumia) are parts of the nature of soul. This denial contrasts with Plato’s tripartition of the soul (which includes spirit and desire) in the Republic, where the tripartition serves to define the four cardinal virtues. However, Plotinus defines these ‘political’ virtues in a different way, as the knowledge and the measure and order brought by rational soul to the affects which arise in the living body. Plotinus introduces furthermore a higher level of virtues, the ‘greater’ virtues. I discuss the relation between these two levels of virtue, in particular as regards the nature of this scale. I argue that in Plotinus the lower (‘political’) virtues are imperfect if possessed without the greater virtues