Confiteor

Anybody who knows me well is aware that I am somewhat recalcitrant towards the sundry, ever-quickening, expanding technological trends that permeate the daily lives of we who were born to grow and age through this period of time called "post-modernity."
I myself am aware that as a person who uses technology for her own convenience, pleasure, and ease of labours that would seem herculean without its devices, I am a hypocrite to assert I do not like technology and the idea of its inevitable advancement.

I must confess I have given this blog its name with this recalcitrance in mind. If I am, indeed, to use this space towards the study of medieval bestiaries and perhaps their context within digital humanities, I thought it clever to come up with a title that included both these aspects. I consulted the text of MS Bodley 764, a thirteenth-century English bestiary, and in the section devoted to discussing lions found this statement:

"Their courage is in their breast, their strength in their head. They fear the noise of wheels, but fire frightens them even more."

According to the medieval (who is in fact working from ancient texts), the king of the animal kingdom, the most courageous and strongest of beasts, an exemplary representative of the natural world, is terrified by the two most primitive forms of technology. Mythology tells us the gods refused to share fire (a symbol of enlightenment, advancement etc.) with humankind and that rogue Prometheus suffered an excruciating punishment for his stunt with the fennel-stalk that restored the flame to humankind. The inventing of the wheel forever has a place in colloquial figures of speech as the first form of technology which was also apparently very difficult to obtain, according to the nature of our expression. I for one am also daunted by the prospect of needing to harness HTML, TEI, and other acronyms that I am told wield inexplicable power in order to seriously pursue the humanities.
I would much rather leave these digital flames in the hands of the digital gods and insist the only wheels I employ be those of faithful Rimbert (my bike), whose basket I shall fill with books.

Eala!
me miserum!


So now you know why my blog bears its peculiar name and why any semblance of a wrinkle now on my forehead may deepen into corrugations as this course progresses. Perhaps my outward appearance will soon betray the little old woman who lives inside me.