Having learned keyboarding on a typewriter, the transition from a Royal Futura 400 to a Macintosh Plus was unsettling. Immediately, I missed the clickety-clack of the typewriter, that distinctive “music” springing from the dance of nine fingers. I even installed a program on my computer to simulate the old typer. But that didn’t last long. The effect simply wasn’t the same. For one, I missed the swing of the typebars. For another, I missed the sudden “snap” of the keys striking the paper. The software-driven “clickety clack” that my Mac produced was frankly anemic. I quickly uninstalled the program.
I’ve read that when “silent” or “noiseless” typewriters were introduced, people sometimes struck the keys more forcefully to produce a louder key strike. Researchers soon discovered that people wanted the tactile response of the old manuals. Ultimately, future typewriters did operate more silently — my 1970s Royal Sprite is significantly softer than my 1941 Royal KMM (what a beast, what a wonderful beast) — but did at least retain the feel of a typewriter.
A more radical shift in typing, of course, is the touch screen, offering no tactile response (except that you are in vibrate mode). Ones finger continually meets an unyielding surface as one types ones thoughts. I don’t know that I’ve ever done any meaningful writing on a touch screen.
This draws me to another observation. When I switched from the Mac Plus to a Windows-based machine, I experienced yet another uncomfortable shift in the typing experience. I missed the “klunkety-klunk” of the old Apple keyboard. If you ever owned a Mac Plus, or typed on one, you know what I’m talking about. That keyboard made a bold sound, and it was not so nearly flat as a typical keyboard; it had greater spring action. This keyboard resonated.
But how important is the tactile response of a keyboard? How essential is the clickety-clack of a manual typer? I’m not entirely certain in my own mind. Consider that, before one learns to type, one writes everything — silently — by hand. So what does the tactile response of a typewriter really add to the experience of writing? I believe it adds something, but what is that something?
© 2013, Mark Adams. All rights reserved.
Ah, I love the feel of my KMM.
In my opinion, the tactile experience is essential to engaging in the typing activity. The problem with a touch screen is that all the feedback is visual; you feel your finger muscles, of course, but there is no tactile feedback to confirm that you’re hitting the right keys, so touch typing is impossible.
Handwriting is such a different experience; you’re actually forming the shapes of the letters, and each shape is associated with muscle movements.
I read in the Wall St. Journal recently that there are various schemes to learn your patterns of typing so that you don’t have to hit particular spots on the screen; you just have to make gestures and the software will take over from there, using predictive algorithms. In a way, this must make typing more like handwriting. But I don’t think I’d like it, if only for the fact that the computer would be “getting inside my mind” too much.
For me, a typewriter makes a kind of music that cannot be easily replicated. Writing by hand, then, must be a kind of dance. Dragging a finger across a screen is like, well, dragging a finger across a screen. It’s not very organic. But, then again, perhaps I’m old fashioned.
OK I think it is the physical effort of the old 1930, 1940 and even into 1970 typewriters had. I think that’s why the teletype was so easy to use. The keyboard was electric. I don’t know the history of the electric machine, but it seems to me the linotype must have been electrified (a solonoid, a relay, a circuit) to account for the speed of good linotypists. Man, leaded, justified and letter for letter. It was a high-paying job at the time.
Anyway, the physical effort (tactility, resistance and sound) was absolutely necessary for rythmn.
I have used IBM style keuboards since they were available to the consumer. Leader of the pack has always been Unicomp.
I have the forearms of a mechanic.
I can pound on it. I can type to Begger’s Banquet. I get feedback to the max. I can rest my hands on the keyboard without worrying if I sent an email to the wrong girlfriend.
Try it. Pound away when you are pissed off. Good for you, healthy, and musical in it’s own way.
Dig it, you’re alive…
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