Sex: The Wolf & Red Riding Hood

Sex, in the twenty first century, sits as an uncomfortable bedfellow with political correctness. One can almost see grandma in her bed, with her long snout tied beneath sleeping cap, and Little Red Riding Hood gazing into her great big eyes. The wolf lies beneath the sheets, pretending to be dear old granny, just like our sexuality temporarily at bay. The grey wolf is the ancestor of every loyal dog on the planet. Humanity has tamed the wolf and bred man’s best friend. Sexuality is the primeval pathway to procreation and though tamed today, still has fangs to bare. The sexual urge is primal and directly linked to our beastly nature. Stories of werewolves and full moon madness are remnants of our strange relationship to our own sexuality.

The Company of Wolves

“One Beast and only one howls in the woods by night.

The wolf is carnivore incarnate and he’s as cunning as he is ferocious, once he’s had a taste of flesh then nothing else will do.

At night, the eyes of wolves shine like candle flames, yellowish, reddish, but that is because the pupils of their eyes fatten on darkness and catch the light from your lantern to flash it back to you – red for danger; if a wolf’s eyes reflect only moonlight, then they gleam a cold and unnatural green, a mineral, a piercing colour.”

Angela Carter, The Company of Wolves

The Wolf & Female Sexuality

The she-wolf in art has an added sexual dimension; and the wolf and female sexuality have been linked ever since. Think of the psychological themes underpinning the story of Little Red Riding Hood, with their allegorical allusions to emerging sexuality communicated via the carnality of the tale. Perrault’s original seventeenth century title was Red Cap, and that name has allusions to the clitoris and the deflowering of virginity.[20] It is in many ways, a traditional folk story about the coming of age, which has been turned into a more prudish warning of the dangers men pose to young girls. The wolf is a carnal beast and much blood is spilt, echoing the breaking of the hymen during first penetration.

“He stood in a clearing, reading his verse out loud

in his wolfy drawl, a paperback in his hairy paw,

red wine staining his bearded jaw. What big ears he had! What big eyes he had! What teeth!

In the interval, I made quite sure he spotted me,

sweet sixteen, never been, babe, waif, and brought me a drink, my first.”

Carol Ann Duffy, “Little Red- Cap”

She-Wolves in Rome

Cristina Mazzoni makes an interesting word correlation when she points out in her book, She-Wolf: The Story of a Roman Icon, the word ‘troia’ in Italian can describe a female animal, a sow, but that it is also a derogatory slang term for a female prostitute. Which is fairly run of the mill male misogynistic language; but interestingly if that word is capitalised as “Troia’, it becomes the Homeric ancient city of Troy.[29] Thus linking to the tale of the twins and the founding of Rome.

©Robert Hamilton




Epicurus is at his core a materialist, in the sense that physical sensation defines our lives, according to his philosophy. Fear of death is widely prescribed as humankind’s most prevalent fear and Epicurus in his “Letter to Menoeceus” sets out to debunk it. This essay will investigate the fundamental Epicurean argument pertaining to humanity’s attitude toward death and examine its ethical purpose in relation to how we should live our lives.

Epicurus wishes to free humanity from an all pervasive mental pain caused by “anxiety about the meaning of death”.[1] It is the fact that humanity experiences life through the senses which allows Epicurus to formulate his proposition that death is the cessation of sensation and therefore should hold no fear for us. To exist is to sense, to experience life with our five senses, conversely to be dead is not to exist and be entirely without sensation. Expounding upon this premise, Epicurus tells us that this certainty provides an immediate pleasure by removing our unnatural and unnecessary desire for immortality. This knowledge can bring us into the moment of living and out of the painfully worrying state of pre-empting our inevitable death.

Epicurus wants us all to, habitually remind ourselves, that the state of death is nothing to be feared, so that we can truly live in the simple pleasure of being alive, and live in the moment more. The conversion to this belief in the Epicurean conception of death is no small matter and Epicurus repeatedly stresses that practice is required in his “fundamentals of the good life”.[2] The ethical purpose of this freedom from the fear of death is to replace anxiety in individuals with happiness. Epicureanism is viewed today as a ‘consequentialist’ philosophy, meaning that the resultant pleasure generated defines its moral good.[3] A consequence of happier, less worried, people inhabiting the world may result in less evil being committed. Pleasure will beget pleasure whereas unhappiness can often provoke acts of retribution, and/or mindless rage. Epicurus lays the groundwork for an acceptance of life’s sensory experiences free from an unnatural worry about something unknowable. His belief in Democritus’ ‘atomism’ and his study of natural science has led him to this belief in the meaninglessness of death; it is the cornerstone of his whole approach to pleasure being the primary human value.[4]

Is the achievement of personal pleasure enough, however, in our lives? What about our loved ones, our partners and children? Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics includes a conception of happiness, Eudaimonia, which has the individual cultivating moral virtues, arête.[5] How we act towards others and whether it is morally appropriate to the situation, or relationship, is essential according to this philosophy; is Epicureanism lacking this perspective? Epicurus answers this important question in his “Letter to Menoeceus” when he stresses that it is “good judgement” which is the most important aspect of his philosophy.[6] The Epicurean life cannot be lived without an adherence to sensibility, nobility and justice:

“Can you think of anyone more moral than the person who has devout beliefs about the gods, who is consistently without fears about death, and who has pondered man’s natural end?”[7]

Epicurus continually returns to this theme of facing one’s mortality and I contend that he sees it as a mark of humanity’s courage and maturity. By not shying away from the fact of death and by not being enslaved by the fear of it, we can act virtuously toward one another. This is important to Epicurus because he values friendship so highly and sees it providing “personal security” during our lives.[8] This then leads me to ask whether this ‘personal security’ could be better translated as ‘emotional security’ in today’s parlance? Epicurus is addressing the importance of loved ones and our relationship to them, after all, through his esteemed endorsement of friendship.

Friends and loved ones are highly valued by Epicurus but are not to be confused with the core responsibility underpinning one’s life – the self. This is why his philosophy focuses on our mortality, desires, pleasures and pains; Epicurus does not put the cart before the horse by shifting the focus to the other. Epicurus’s philosophy of the simple good of pleasure is criticised by those who propose that our lives are inextricably linked to others and that this must be primarily reflected in any manual for living. Stoicism puts the ‘life of virtue’ at the very heart of its philosophical approach to life and suggests we show indifference toward both pleasure and pain. Stoicism developed by Zeno of Citium in the third century BC and popularised in Rome by Seneca, Cicero and Marcus Aurelius, very much emphasised duty to others.[9] This aspect of the Stoic philosophy was embraced by the early Christian culture and can be seen in the writings of Saint Paul and Augustine.[10] My argument with this Christian standpoint has always been that if everyone is focused on the other’s happiness, and not their own, then no one is at home to truly receive whatever Christian charity comes their way, and then this concept becomes ridiculous.

Another, apparent, failure of the Epicurean philosophy, when comparing it to the tenets of both Aristotelian and Stoic philosophies is its encouragement for individuals to cloister away from the hubs of power and influence within their communities. For Aristotle happiness is found in being one’s best and he saw politics as the epitome of the good life; and for the Stoic it is their duty to perform so. Epicurus prescribed a quieter life with a small group of friends, thus avoiding the competitive struggle of the political life where often much evil is committed through ambition and corruption. Epicurus diagnosed this evil as the result of greed and the misuse of power, all things classified by Epicurus as unnatural and unnecessary to happiness.

This essay has explained the Epicurean position on the material reality of life and that death is meaningless to each one of us once we are dead. The pleasure that acceptance of this scientific fact can engender within us can free us from unnecessary fear and unhappiness. As John Lennon, perhaps an Epicurean, said so eloquently when he sang, “Imagine there’s no heaven…no hell below us…Imagine all the people living for today”, this knowledge promotes a responsibility for living virtuously in the here and now.[11] Criticisms of Epicureanism in relation to our actions towards others have been addressed in light of comparisons to other contemporaneous philosophies and their later offshoots. I conclude in agreement with Epicurus’s pronouncement that our own death “means nothing to us” and that we should courageously get on with the act of living well.[12]







Cooper, David. E, (ed), Ethics: The Classic Readings, Oxford, Blackwell Publishers, 1998.

Lennon, John, “Imagine”, London, Apple Records, 1971,

Plant, Ian, Myth In The Ancient World, Sydney, Palgrave Macmillan, 2012.

Sinnerbrink, Robert. Lecture on Epicurean Ethics, Macquarie University, PHI110, Week 2.

Sinnerbrink, Robert. Lecture on Stoic Ethics, Macquarie University, PHI110, Week 3.

Sinnerbrink, Robert. Lecture on Aristotle’s Ethics, Macquarie University, PHI110, Week 4.

Spencer, Joseph, “Free from All Men: Stoic Influence in the Writing of Saint Paul”, Provo UT, Brigham Young University, 2006. P.24-41.

[1] Epicurus, “Letter to Menoeceus” in Cooper, David. E, (ed), Ethics: The Classic Readings, (Oxford, Blackwell Publishers, 1998), p. 54.

[2] Epicurus, “Letter to Menoeceus”, p. 49.

[3] David Cooper, (ed) Ethics: The Classic Readings, (Oxford, Blackwell Publishers, 1998) p. 47.

[4] Robert Sinnerbrink, Lecture on Epicurean Ethics, Macquarie University, Week 2.

[5] Robert Sinnerbrink, Lecture on Aristotle’s Ethics, Macquarie University, PHI110, Week 4.


[6] Epicurus, “Letter to Menoeceus”, p .52.

[7] Epicurus, “Letter to Menoeceus”, p. 52.

[8] Epicurus, “Letter to Menoeceus”, p. 56.

[9] Robert Sinnerbrink, Lecture on Stoic Ethics, Macquarie University, PHI110, Week 3.


[10] Joseph Spencer, “Free from All Men: Stoic Influence in the Writing of Saint Paul”, (Provo UT, Brigham Young University, 2006.), p.20-31.

[11] John Lennon, “Imagine”, (London, Apple Records, 1971),


[12] Epicurus, “Letter to Menoeceus”, p .50.

I’m Feeling Love Again

I’ve walked in no man’s land and I’ve talked to the sand.

I’ve seen the road out of here and it’s full of fear.

I’ve gambled hearts away and ambled far through the day.

I know the way out of here, out of here, my dear.


Losing love becomes a habit, telling lies on the run.

Somebody to someone, second chances are undone.

Black dog barking in the distance.

White woman wags the tail.

Where is my resistance?

Hearts are setting sail.


I’m feeling healed again, I’m feeling loved again.

I got a river running through my soul.

It’s washed away the pain and fear of tomorrow.

It’s telling me that I love you.


I’m feeling healed again, I’m feeling loved again.

I got this river running through my soul.

It’s washed away the pain and fear of tomorrow.

It’s telling me that I love you.


Warm eyes and wet kisses, someone else’s missus.

Wide smiles and weak resistance.

Come and get these loving kisses.

Embrace the flesh and feel delicious.

All God’s creatures aint malicious.

Where’s the dirt in doing what feels good?

Where’s the grace in saying no, go away?

Welcome arms a rare instance.

Loving you I pray, loving you I pray.

Night and day, night and day.


Losing love becomes a habit, telling lies on the run.

Somebody to someone, second chances are undone.

Black dog barking in the distance.

White woman wags the tail.

Where is my resistance?

Hearts are setting sail.


I’m feeling healed again, I’m feeling loved again.

I got a river running through my soul.

It’s washed away the pain and fear of tomorrow.

It’s telling me that I love you.


I’m feeling healed again, I’m feeling loved again.

I got this river running through my soul.

It’s washed away the pain and fear of tomorrow.

It’s telling me that I love you.


Naming Shadows

He liked the painting hanging on the wall, especially its strength. The bold lines etched upon the face were unambiguous. The clear creases bespoke of firmness. The size and shape of the head was harmoniously proportionate. The jaw line was the epitome of masculine but the lips sensuously full. He saw some of his father’s face in this canvas and also a likeness to an uncle on his mother’s side. The tri colours emerging from the torso: scarlet, green and gold – had, for him, biblical connotations, like some Luciferion manifestation gleaming against a black background. The whiteness of the skull like visage had echoes of some comic book super hero, or villain, from his childhood reading.

It was a painting of a Roman death mask, which was why the eyes were eyeless empty sockets; white portals into an interior expanse of unreadable blankness. His children had found it creepy. He supposed that others would also judge it to be disquieting. His brother had made reference to the fact of his recent milestone birthday, just passed, and that, perhaps, the striking image of a death mask was psychologically linked to thoughts about his own mortality. He had painted the Roman death masks because of the facial detail captured in plaster, which had inspired him to pick up his brushes after almost a year of inactivity. The copious lines on the faces of these ancient sentinels told the story of their lives, or rather, showed the impact events had had upon them. The Romans wore their lives like badges of honour, every wrinkle, and every line, was a mark of experience crying out, “I lived, I survived, I made my presence felt!”

They wiped their arses with sea sponges soaked in vinegar. He imagined how old arse holes filled with piles would react to the astringent sting. That could put lines on your face. They lived hard lives close to the ground; a race of farmers who became unbeatable soldiers marching in scarlet and always keeping time. They lived on porridge most of the time, which may have kept the piles at bay. Death was notoriously prevalent and like the seasonal slaughter of farmyard animals it was only a matter of time. It was hard not to admire this civilisation, from a safe distance of course. They wore medallions carved in the likeness of erect phalluses, even women and children. They worshipped fertility, the potency of the seed and its deliverer. Mars, the god of war, with sword and spear stood tall amongst them.

His Roman death mask painting captured some of that spirit, he thought to himself. It depicted an angry fucker staring out from history, daring anyone, or thing, to mock him. He hadn’t given him a name, though the Romans were very big on names; nomenclature – the systematic naming of things. They often had three names or nomens. The first, and least important, was the praenomen – something like Gaius or Marcus; there was only a limited number of these to choose from, so many had the same first name. The second name was called the nomen and this was the clan, or gens, you belonged to. A third name was the cognomen, which indicated the branch of the clan you belonged to. It was very important for them to address each other correctly at the appropriate occasion. He had called his painting “Roman Death Mask 1”, a much more functionally modern nomen.

 ©Robert Hamilton


Are We Celebrating War?

Every year, as the ANZAC ceremonies come around again and seem to exponentially grow in stature and public awareness, I ask myself, is the message we are sending our children the right one? Celebrity status to the young is accepted generally without much analysis and the glorious stories of these young men who unwittingly sacrificed their lives may be generating the wrong signals. As a father of two young children I am hopeful that my own abhorrence of war, and more importantly its causes, are still paramount in the minds of my children, and in the greater community. Are we focusing on the resultant individual consequences of great wars to the detriment of understanding and condemning the reasons why we find ourselves at war with, other members of the human race?

As a historian I spend a considerable amount of time analysing past conflicts between nation states and I am amazed at the general ignorance amongst the population about the political causes of the wars Australia has been involved in over its short history. ANZAC day, in my opinion, is an opportunity for all of us to spend some time thinking about these conflicts and the factors that contributed to their emergence. In some way this new found reverence for the fallen participants in Gallipoli, in particular, reminds me of what used to be far more keenly felt about the Christian religious festivals, which also reflects a similar ignorance of the actual historical details by the general population. Many people say they find the study of history boring and or a waste of time but it is an understanding of our past actions and policies, which will save us from repeating horrendous mistakes costing the lives of millions.

Some would say that the commemoration of ANZAC day is precisely about an awareness of our history as a nation, but to me its focus is sentimental and iconic. ANZAC day is creating symbols of nationhood, the sacrificial soldier on the altar of freedom, but isn’t the question why we were fighting in the first place equally deserving of gross public recognition? Why do we send the very youngest men into battle? It is a historical and universal social policy practiced by ancient to modern civilisations to commit young men into the violent service of their state’s militaries. Young men seek glory and fame. Young men act first and ask questions later. Young men are more likely to obey their commanders over their own consciences, than older and possibly wiser men or women. History is littered with nations and kingdoms that have spent the lives of their young men, often cheaply, in search of conquest.

The ANZACS and Australian soldiers in WWII were, we are told, defending our country rather than in search of conquest. Australia in the First World War was tied culturally to mother Britain and it was expected that we would send troops to support Britain’s involvement in this highly dubious, in my opinion, global war. WWI was the catastrophic crowning glory of the Princes of Europe, the egos of Kaisers, Czars and Kings combined with new technologies to fertilise the battlefields with an entire generation of young men’s blood and bones. The resultant victory of the Allies led to the onerous Treaty of Versailles, which impinged greatly on Germany’s future; creating Hitler and WWII. A rather brief surmising of events but true enough in essence; look at how the US handled post war Germany and Japan after their WWII defeats to see how useful the lessons of history are.

Australian soldiers in more recent conflicts are now acting, with other soldiers from developed nations, as more like global policemen in places like Iraq and Afghanistan, supposedly engaging and defeating the forces of tyrants and terrorists. The world is a complex place and the reasons for war are multiple, actions can be both right and wrong, can achieve good and bad outcomes; just look at Iraq. The media coverage of the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq has been micromanaged by the military to avoid the antiwar reaction engendered by the very visual conflict in Vietnam. Countries like Australia, Britain and the US are controlling what their citizens are allowed to see on their television and computer screens when it comes to military actions. Orwell’s 1984 is merely set a few decades early when we consider today’s public presentation of war and the controlled perceptions these governments wish to oversee.

We seem unflinching in our fictional reimaginings of the horrors of Gallipoli on our viewing screens, but it is easy to empathise with the affects of atrocities committed a hundred years ago upon distant relatives or strangers. Real war doesn’t currently touch the majority of Australians, as we are turned away from confronting its direct images by government policy, and only a minority of us have a connection to it through family or friend, or have experienced it ourselves. The Australian identity is linked to that of the iconic ANZACS by the fact of their almost universal presentation as Anglo-Saxon Aussies. The real effects of war upon refugees from Iraq, Afghanistan and Sri Lanka make little impact on the hearts of Australians, despite the fact that these have just happened or are maybe still happening right now. Our great public sadness is reserved for the ghosts of men and women who died up to a hundred years ago. We are authorised to feel greatly for these mainly white ancestors but actively encouraged to despise and be indifferent to the suffering of men, women and children who are clearly not Australian and thus not deserving of our sympathy. Real war is happening in Africa and the Middle East right now, people being killed and blown up, slaughter and rape everywhere. It is interesting how we rationalise and fit these realities into our ethical positions on what deserves our attention and empathy. Lest we forget.

©Robert Hamilton

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I Went to the Funeral of a Young Man

I went to the funeral of a young man,

And saw pictures of him smiling.

He looked fresh and very well.

I remembered things about him,

Episodes from days gone by.

I watched feelings draped over friends and family,

Now tugging at life’s certainties;

Unpicking threads and seams.

I heard songs and sounds once familiar,

Now, a strange soundtrack to sadness.

I went to the funeral of a young man,

Held hands with a litany of grievers,

And shook with an arrhythmic palsy of spasms.

Threatening to undo me, then and there.

I heard the eulogy in real time,

Perched on my third row pew.

I listened out for more adventures,

But that book was finally closed.

I went to the funeral of a young man,

Now, permanently indisposed.

Ereader are You Benefitting from Technology

If you haven’t purchased an ereader or read a book on an ereader you are missing out on something. Unlike reading text on a personal computer, tablet or mobile phone, an ereader is especially designed to reproduce that book paper reading experience. The ereader is not backlit in the same way as those other devices, which are really designed to show images. The ereader is softly lit to recreate that black and white, slightly grainy, paper reading experience.

On top of this it has a number of decided advantages over the paper book. Firstly, the absent bulk and weight of the ereader over a large novel is really noticeable, especially after prolonged reading sessions. You know, when you are reading a great book and are totally involved in the unfolding story but your wrists are aching, and you are doing yoga to find bodily positions which will lesson the strain of the weight of the book on your arms and wrists. The ereader removes all this physical stress, which can take away your focus on the story at hand.

Another ereader advantage, which I noticed when reading Tolstoy’s War and Peace, was the way the single screen format kept you in the moment, focused on the text that you were reading. The large paper book forces you to be aware of how much you have already read and how much you have to go, because you can see and feel all those pages in your hands. The ereader contributes to keeping your experience of the writer’s prose as fresh because there is only a readable chunk of it on its screen, at any one time.

I also would probably have not read War and Peace, without my ereader because although I knew it was a great book I doubt that I would have bought it in a bookstore. It was free through Amazon and Kobo, along with a host of other classic titles, which I have now read. Gibbon’s Decline and Fall; Madame Bovary; Of Human Bondage; Heart of Darkness; The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde; and many more. My ereader helped me read some books that I am very glad that I made the effort to read; that is technology doing its job in my opinion.

Ereaders are cheap to buy,  a pleasure to read, long lasting and provide instant gratification, when you have just read a great book and want to immediately read that author’s next book or instalment of the same story you just press a button and you have it like magic. The books themselves are cheaper to buy and you don’t have that sinking feeling when you move house and have to box up hundreds of very heavy books!

Get an ereader – you will love it!

Lastly, let me share a secret with you about how I made the decision to buy an ereader. You see, I grew up in a family who owned the best bookshop in our city, it was called Wisdom Books. I used to work in the bookshop at various times over its twenty five year history and loved being around all those wonderful books. Books and the knowledge that they sometimes contain, have always fascinated me and attracted me. Well, Wisdom Books grew from a small bookshop into a much larger bookstore but still maintained that special bookshop flavour.

Eventually in the face of outside economic forces, the Australian dollar was floated and became very poor in its buying power of US and UK books, with US books costing double and UK books triple in Australian dollars. Wisdom Books was an importer of quality overseas books, which were not published by Australian publishers, and had been very popular with its customers on this basis. To compound this substantial increase in the cost of these books to our buying public the Australian Government brought in a goods and services tax, which put the price of books up a further 10%. However, as is still the situation today, books bought online through Amazon etc do not pay this tax. Many family bookstores in Australia went to the wall and were forced to close their doors.


My brother, who had taken over from my father, as the bookshop’s manager, was understandably livid at the unfairness of the GST impost. It was my brother who had the frustrating and sad task of overseeing the demise of this once great bookstore. You can imagine his feelings about Amazon and the unfair playing field. Australia was growing up, economically, through the nineteen eighties and nineties, becoming a part of the global market. Economists, and Paul Keating in particular, the Australian treasurer and PM,who we all admired politically at the time, kept telling us it was good for the nation. Watching something beautiful die is always hard to do, even a business.

Anyway, the secret is that, a while after the dust had settled, shop fittings had been sold off and the pain of just walking away, after twenty five years of business had receded somewhat. My brother shared with me that his partner had bought him an Amazon Kindle ereader and that he was really enjoying it. I was gobsmacked and I eventually went out and bought a Kobo ereader myself.

A GUIDE to the Best Ereaders to Buy

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