“But that wasn’t in the text,” objected half a dozen students, and Professor Barnaby took off his wire-rimmed glasses to better glare at his class without distortion.
“How many times do I have to tell you to read the marginalia, not simply squint at it — and don’t tell me you are reading the ebook version on your phones, my heart couldn’t take it.”
Professor Barnabus looked down at the textbook open on his desk, the rows of neatly scribed letters reproduced on its glossy pages, the faint but elegantly scrawled scribbles in the margins, and the gold-and-crimson dragon winking up at him from its position curled around the capital letter — surely the work of the renowned calligrapher Cyril of Parnassus should never be reduced to mere pixels on a screen?
Irritated: the Medieval Literature Professor’s Tale
“How many times do I have to tell you to read the marginalia, not simply squint at it — and don’t tell me you are reading the ebook version on your phones, my heart couldn’t take it.”
Professor Barnabus looked down at the textbook open on his desk, the rows of neatly scribed letters reproduced on its glossy pages, the faint but elegantly scrawled scribbles in the margins, and the gold-and-crimson dragon winking up at him from its position curled around the capital letter — surely the work of the renowned calligrapher Cyril of Parnassus should never be reduced to mere pixels on a screen?