Showing posts with label Book review. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Book review. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 25, 2026

Book Review: Ross Dunbar, Click Clack Boom

Author Ross Dunbar kindly sent me a copy of Click Clack Boom, the first in his Blackjack Harrigan Files series. Harrigan is an intelligence officer who specializes in finding unusual people who are just right for a military challenge. In this case it's Hank O'Malley, a skilled worker at the Royal typewriter factory who's been classified as 4-F despite his desire to do his part for his country in World War II. His asthma keeps him tied to a bench. But as it turns out, General Eisenhower is superstitiously attached to his Royal Quiet De Luxe with a tilted "V" slug, and Hank is the only one who can fix it. Unless he can get behind enemy lines in Normandy and get that QDL running, Ike won't issue the orders for D-Day!


If you can accept that wild alt-history premise, you're in for an exciting adventure complete with a valiant female French Resistance fighter, a giggling Nazi officer, claustrophobic tunnels, and characters who aren't quite what they seem.

This is a fun read for for any typewriter lover, although sometimes the technical descriptions might make you scratch your head. (Typebars are called typebars, keys, arms, and strikers.) But hey, Blackjack Harrigan, the narrator, isn't himself a typewriter repairman, and he can be forgiven a little vagueness.

Harrigan's voice was my favorite part of the book. He issues hardboiled apothegms such as:

Together with fast-paced action, these quotable quotes make Click Clack Boom a memorable experience.

Ross Dunbar has a website, and he's on Instagram, TikTok, and YouTube. You can buy Click Clack Boom here. The next Blackjack Harrigan File will feature Lucille Ball!

Saturday, August 22, 2026

Book review: The Complete Manufacturing Process of a Vintage Typewriter

The Complete Manufacturing Process of a Vintage Typewriter: Archival Engineering Reconstruction—1930–1938 is a 73-page book published in 2025 by Type Space in Portland, Oregon. 


Type Space is a beautiful shop and cultural center run by Antony Valoppi with the assistance of Mark Naylor. I recommend the engaging interview with Antony and Mark recently published by Austin Typewriter, Ink.

The concept of the book is exciting: let's look behind the walls of a typewriter factory in the 1930s, when most of the kinks of early typewriter experiments had been worked out and the production system was perfected. I personally love 1930s typewriters for their quality and appearance, so I was curious to know more.

The bibliography lists a dozen rare internal publications by Royal, Smith-Corona, and Underwood. (Remington is conspicuously absent, and factories outside the United States are not discussed.) These sound like invaluable sources for esoteric information, such as Royal's Escapement and Spacing Calibration Manual and Smith-Corona's Silent Mechanism Design Memorandum. Other items in the bibliography include technical books such as Pratt & Whitney's Precision Milling and Jig Boring Equipment Specifications

On the basis of these publications, the book divides the manufacturing process into a dozen phases, from "material formulation" to "packing and shipping," with steps such as casting, type slug manufacture, and painting along the way.

Great concept, as I said. But an alarm bell rings on the copyright page: "Interior diagrams, technical reconstruction, and layout Ai assisted." 

There's nothing wrong with using AI for layout. But the "diagrams" ... oh dear. Do these look like real typewriter assembly views to you? 




Some of the text in these diagrams also strikes me as phony. Were typewriter manufacturers "performing QC test readout" in the '30s?

You may also have noticed that the cover is AI-generated: that looks like a Royal, kinda, but the details are all wrong (the ribbon is too fat, the return lever is not shaped like any return lever ever seen, and so on).

Maybe the reader is expected to understand that these illustrations are just for fun, or are meant as symbolic reminders rather than actual pictures. But they create suspicion and doubt, and sadly bring this book closer to slopbait videos and quick-buck pseudo-books that don't care that they include images of typewriters that never existed and never could. Those of us who do care about typewriters must be careful about misleading future generations who will have trouble distinguishing real pictures of typewriters from surreal pictures of invented machines.

What about using AI for "technical reconstruction"? What exactly does that mean? The inaccuracy of the AI-generated illustrations makes me nervous about the text. Very regrettably from this academic's point of view, the text contains no footnotes or other references that would tie it to particular pages in the original sources. So how can we trust a claim such as "Primer layers were baked at 275 ºF to form uniform adhesion substrates"? Did all typewriter factories, or the three companies listed in the bibliography, specify the same temperature in their painting methods? Maybe. How do we know? Sometimes the text does distinguish between processes used in different factories, but again, there are no citations of original sources.

The processes are often described in technical and scientific language that is beyond my layman's understanding. Example: "Bearing sleeves and rake bushings were machined from 60/40 Cu-Zn brass (UTS ≈ 290 Mpa), drawn through carbide dies and annealed at 752 ºF to maintain ductility." A three-page glossary at the back of the book does help me understand some terms, such as "MPa" (Megapascal, a unit of pressure). The specificity of this language tends to make it sound authoritative and factual, but again, the shadowy presence of AI raises doubts.

How much of this text was generated by AI? The worst-case scenario here is that an AI system was simply fed the original documents and instructed to spit out a book. I doubt it; I expect that Antony and/or Mark put work and research into this. But, once again, how do we know? Their names appear nowhere, and the text refers to itself in suspiciously abstract and passive language: "Detailed examinations are provided across all major production phases." 

In addition to the AI-generated illustrations, this book contains six patent illustrations. These are original drawings which are historically significant. But only two of them actually come from the period 1930-1938. What does Alvah Roebuck's 1918 patent for a paper finger have to do with typewriter factories in the 1930s? Most of these patent illustrations seem to have been selected simply for their visual charm, regardless of whether they pertain to the three big manufacturers of the '30s that are supposedly the focus of the book. But there are thousands upon thousands of patent illustrations from the 1930s that are easily available online and might have been selected to connect to the text.

Actual photos of the interior of 1930s typewriter factories are also available, and would have made excellent illustrations. Good sources would include house organs (internal company magazines) and news reports from the day. And people would appear in those photos! A more engaging book would show us some workers and describe their daily jobs. There might be some dramatic episodes: Remington workers, for instance, went on strike several times during the Depression, and the company took ruthless measures against the union.

A concluding statement on "industrial legacy & standardization" provides an effective overview of the achievements of the great typewriter factories. They were precisely planned, highly sophisticated enterprises that poured vast capital into the mass production of useful writing machines. 

I have to point out that a false statement slips in, though: "the rise of electric typewriters in the following decades would gradually reduce reliance on purely mechanical precision systems. Electrification ... reduced the need for finely balanced mechanical linkages." No: electric motors just turned a roller or shaft. Everything else was mechanical and needed at least as much precision as a manual typewriter. This includes the IBM Selectric, which is a legendary achievement of mechanical design. The statement in the book is correct only if applied to electronic typewriters, which came to predominate in the 1980s. Something like an IBM Wheelwriter requires far fewer parts than a Selectric, since many of the functions are controlled by chips instead of mechanical linkages. I say this as someone who is no engineer, but it's evident to anyone who has compared an electromechanical typewriter to an electronic one.

On the whole, this book is frustrating and disappointing. It's an excellent concept, but I wish I could have more confidence in its claims, and I'm hungry for real glimpses of actual typewriter factories.

Friday, August 15, 2025

Book review: V. M. Harrigan, Thaxton Research Institute Report on Sidewalks, Residential Concrete Construction and Extra-Dimensional Combat in Post-War Memphis, Tennessee

The other day, this classic Inter-Department Delivery envelope showed up in my mail.

Freddy and I were quite curious.


Inside was the Thaxton Research Institute Report on Sidewalks, Residential Concrete Construction and Extra-Dimensional Combat in Post-War Memphis, Tennessee.  


The 32 unnumbered, glossy pages of this pamphlet include a few maps and photos, and extensive typewriting.


What begins as a prosaic account of the competitive concrete business soon takes a Lovecraftian turn as a centenarian interviewed under hypnosis recounts some mighty strange events.

The presentation of the tale gets points for unusual creativity in packaging and, of course, for being typewritten. The typing looks genuine to me—no phony fonts here—although it should have been scanned at higher resolution in order to avoid some pixelation. (I get a Royal KMM vibe, but that's just a guess.) It's good to see typewriters in use to create intrigue and atmosphere!

This publication and others by V. M. Harrigan are available from Manifold House. Next up: Four Doorways In or Near New Orleans, which looks like it will pick up on themes introduced in TRIRSRCCEDCPMT.


Thank you, V. M.!

V. M. Harrigan's Substack

Wednesday, August 13, 2025

Book review: Becky Franzel, Ohhh. Okay. I Think I Get it Now.


Becky Franzel, like Gene Gazelka, is another typospherian who's been through the wringer and made art from it. When her boyfriend committed suicide years ago, she turned grief into writing. She also has a redemptive sense of humor, and she writes the right way:


In a stage play at QWERTYFEST 2024, Becky played a judgmental copy editor.

Her latest publication is the delightfully named Ohhh. Okay. I Think I Get it Now. — a collection of short stories. 

In the title story, a human female tries to understand a frog secretly named Harold Steven Jones VI.

Yes, Becky has a lot of fun with names. There's "dfk Gary" from "planet dfkjss09sdjfksl," who meets "Earth Gary" in a quick and terminal encounter. And another alien who crash lands in "his old MMNNPuh-Puh-Puh Model 8." 

Then there's the portrait of Stevan the Van, Becky's 1979 Chevy that is "nerdy," "clunky," "archaic," and beloved.

In the surreal dystopia "Toyotathon!!!" (maybe my favorite story), in a time after "The Unmentionable Thing," in a landscape "where the omnipresent orange glow of distant fires painted everything in apocalyptic light," a couple of survivors continue the tradition of the yearly car sale ... even though there are no more Toyotas.

Other stories have darker topics—anorexia, death ... but a refreshing and offbeat perspective is never far away.

For an entertaining and unpredictable reading experience, get your hands on a copy of Ohhh. Okay. I Think I Get it Now. 



PS: Do you have a story of your own you want to publish? Consider Becky's publishing house, Aw Shucks!

Becky's Instagram:

Monday, August 11, 2025

Book review: G. Gazelka, Bodies in Transition

Cover illustration by Mitch Green

 

I’ve known Gene Gazelka through Instagram and the typosphere for several years now. He uses a Smith-Corona portable and a Royal standard to write fiction, poetry, and poetic snippets that get posted around town, making life a bit more interesting for those who may run into them. Gene is a trans man who’s been through a lot and turned it into words. 



Last year Gene published Bodies in Transition, a collection of poems that each make me stop and reflect. Almost all seem autobiographical. Some are a bit cryptic, others tell the truth without adornment. Some have passages in prose, others make full use of line breaks and the arrangement of words on a page. Gene writes about love, sex, surgery, justice, and injustice.

 

If you lean left, or you’re not straight and cisgender, you’re more likely to empathize with these poems. If that doesn't describe you, I still recommend this collection as a trip into the experience of someone unlike you. As Gene truly says, “they are worthy of love just as I am.” 



 Anyone who has passed through darkness can find resonance in a poem like this:

 

It’s not words you ask for, or

to be taken

Yours has been a life of

pain and you seek

care, to be seen,

to be appreciated,

to be re-wrapped

and re-gloved,

for your knuckles

are bloody

You do not have 

to be the womb to

the world

 

It is okay to kiss

the sky when it is

at its darkest

 

Gene reminds us that 

 

                          the body is a home and some are lucky

                          enough to walk safely in it

 

—while others are not. For them, it is precious to be acknowledged and welcomed as representatives of the gender they desire:

 

The first time

my name pronounced “Eugene”

from another person’s lips

lit me up

like a holiday festival

 

Why do so many people take pleasure in cruelty toward those who already feel so much pain? Why do some politicians choose to encourage this cruelty by scapegoating a small and endangered population? Why are so many so bent on reinforcing images of masculinity and femininity that boil down to silly stereotypes, such as the one that Gene quotes in a poem?

 

                          Boy: (n) a noise with dirt 

                          on it

 

I read this line this morning. Later in the afternoon, while strolling through a thrift store, I saw its counterpart on a sign:



How tyrannical and how insecure to insist that girls can’t get dirty, boys can’t get glittery, or bodies can’t flow from one gender to another. Let’s let each individual struggle toward their own form of expression and desire. Gene makes the point with a metaphor that my readers should enjoy:

 

Each typewriter requires

a different stroke

One must be replaced with a lower

case L on my Royal and Smith-Corona

I have no exclamation point

You cannot see my emotions

Feel the rhythm

Jam

Adjust

Hear the clacking of the keys

Connect to the physical

There is the ink,

the fine print,

my love

 

Thank you, Gene.



Bodies in Transition: 

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DCD116L8

 

More about Gene:

https://www.ggazelka.com

 

His personal Instagram page:

https://www.instagram.com/with_a_gg_/

 

His literary Instagram page:

https://www.instagram.com/g.gazelka.author/

 

Monday, February 10, 2025

The best books for tech skeptics with an imagination

I was invited by Shepherd — a book lovers' platform that's an independent alternative to the Amazon-owned Goodreads — to recommend some of my favorite books that complement The Typewriter Revolution. This was a fun assignment. Longtime readers of this blog will recognize some titles. 



PS: In 2026, the site has been renamed BookDNA:


 

Thursday, October 29, 2020

Mateo Marín Burgos, La reparación de máquinas de escribir (Typewriter Repair), 1936

I've found the perfect go-with for my Hispano-Olivetti M40.

The second edition of La reparación de máquinas de escribir, by Mateo Marín Burgos, was published in Madrid in 1936, just at the beginning of the Spanish Civil War. 


The subtitle promises that the book contains "all the secrets and resources of the profession."
This second edition has a special section on the Hispano-Olivetti M40, with the help and blessing of Olivetti — a wise addition to keep the book up to date, since in the 1930s this excellent model had become the Spanish typewriter of choice.


In the introduction, Marín comes across as a literate expert with a certain amount of justified pride.


"We want to block certain professional criticisms, more or less malevolent, directed against the supposed inefficacy of our work—a simple glance at which, of course, does not permit one to go shooting out with a tool case to repair in a trice the first machine that gets thrown in one's face.
"No, dear friends, no. A technical book to be studied is not a novel. We have never yet known a case of someone who, upon closing a book on astronomy, physics, or mathematics, has been turned into an astronomer, a physicist, or a mathematician."

The book begins with history—the story of the Sholes & Glidden, for those who want to know who "the" inventor of "the" typewriter was, followed by a more thorough history going back to Henry Mill (1714) and mentioning several 19th-century highlights. There is nothing original here, there are many omissions, and there are some misspellings and errors—but on the whole, Marín does a very good job, considering that this is not a history book and that it wasn't so easy to find sources on typewriter history at the time.


Lots of text and illustrations follow, especially on the Underwood — a wise choice, considering the dominance of the Underwood before the Hispano-Olivetti M40 conquered Spain. But quite a few other brands, including Remington and Woodstock, are discussed. There is even some discussion of Hammonds. Many procedures have to be described in verbal generalities instead of being illustrated in detail, since it would be impossible for a single book to cover every repair on every typewriter.

Here, oddly, Marín illustrates both a "bad" and an "appropriate" way of tightening a type guide.


In the illustration below, Marín recommends making a segment-cleaning tool by cutting an Underwood typebar along the line e------e. Of course, a typebar will fit into a segment slot. Clever!

Later in the book, he recommends making what he describes as a very useful and efficient tool for removing key rings by cutting off the protrusion on the left side of the typebar as illustrated below, but leaving a curved hook (d). Then this tool has two hooks that will easily pry off a key ring. I'll have to try this sometime.

This same page recommends gasoline and potassium cyanide as cleaning agents, with a warning that the latter is "very poisonous." I've seen cyanide recommended in an American book on typewriter repair, too.


These illustrations show you how to solder type and perform an alignment.


Finally we reach the new section all about the M40, with illustrated instructions on how to disassemble and reassemble the machine. We learn that the model "has 3,061 parts, 945 of which are different. 21,427 operations are required for its manufacture. ... The greatest tolerances admitted in its moving parts are of two hundredths of a millimeter." This should be enough to make anyone considering building a new typewriter today take the challenge seriously.


A final section includes various "interesting facts," such as diagrams of a variety of typebar mechanisms. Here we see the frontstroke Yost, the Williams, the Bar-Lock, the Typo, the Noiseless, and the Empire. Some of these were considered obsolete by 1936, but the memory of them evidently had not faded completely, and it was still possible that someone would bring in something like a Williams for repair.


As if this weren't enough, Marín provides very helpful lists of platen dimensions, ribbon widths, and weights for a wide variety of typewriters, including some very obscure ones that are new to me (Naco? Atlantia? Miniature? Menier?). He provides addresses for "the principal typewriter manufacturers," including some old and not-so-principal ones (the Belka and Saturn were made by Bruno Lange in Karlsruhe, he says).


The book ends with a wonderful collection of advertisements.






Are you eager to get your hands on this book? I can find just one other copy for sale at the moment.

Although my H-O M40 is working perfectly at the moment, I will keep Marín's book by its side as a trusty companion.




 

Sunday, August 23, 2020

Book review: Typerotica, by Lee Siegel






See Paul Robert's Sexy Legs and Typewriters for much more historic material along these lines.
(Of course I am not condoning the behavior represented in this postcard in any way.)