The Lilliput children's typewriter

It's been over a month since I posted on this blog, and my 48 posts for 2024 were the lowest number since I began in 2010. So it goes. I've been very busy with academic projects, and the upcoming semester may be my busiest ever: five conferences and a new course to teach! But before the crush comes, I'm getting a little time to play with typewriters while the snow drifts down outside my window.

I got a rare Gloria portable, made in Italy in 1928-29. I won't discuss it here, since my story about it will be coming out in the next ETCetera, but I'll give you a glimpse.

I can tell you more about the Lilliput that was donated to WordPlay Cincy and will be sold to raise funds for the organization. This is a kids' typewriter—I suppose I shouldn't say "toy," since it really does write—made in England, I think around 1970.

It's an attractive, metal-bodied little typewriter that comes in a cute case.

The three-bank keyboard should be familiar from portables of the 1920s and earlier, and from our own phone keyboards.

One less-than-obvious feature is that the shifts can be locked by pushing the shift lever away from you, into the body of the typewriter, when the lever is depressed.

Shifting takes some strength, as there is no spring assist. Here's the typewriter in lowercase and Fig positions.

The ribbon cover tilts forward (it can't be removed):

Under the cover you find what may look like normal ribbon spools, but they're not. This round plastic piece seems like it should rotate, but it doesn't; it's a stationary cover that is held onto the shaft by a cotter pin (not shown in this photo).

Under the plastic cover, there's a 7/16" ribbon that's wound around a core. It is not easy to wind it on; I imagine children crying and parents swearing. You can see how dirty my hands are—after cleaning.

Another thing that may cause some curses: when the typewriter is in its case, the space bar is below the lip of the case base, so it's awkward to type. To remove the typewriter, you have to unscrew one screw in the middle of the bottom of the case.

Here is the very simple escapement. It makes a loud rattle as you return the carriage. 

If you prefer a silent return, you can also hold down the big carriage release lever, seen on the right in this photo.

You advance the paper by turning the platen knob. Needless to say, there are no refinements such as a backspacer, tabulator, or ribbon color change. The typing experience is, well, strenuous. And the results?

Although I won't be writing my next novel on a Lilliput, I do give this little device credit for its durability and good looks.