I’m not the type to mock “hipster” accoutrements—not even the ones that cost $400, like the “Qwerkywriter,” which is a typewriter-inspired keyboard that can be hooked up to a tablet or a computer for a dose of old-meets-new/manual-meets-digital chic. I mean, I could make fun of the name “Qwerkywriter.” Or I could make fun of the fact that, even though this device costs $400, it sounds pretty gosh darn hard to use, according to reviews.
But, no. In spite of those reservations, I think I understand why this product exists. It’s not for me, personally—not least because I don’t care to spend $400 on an ill-functioning keyboard. But its design does make a strange sort of sense to me.
Nostalgia is complicated. As soon as I saw this image, I felt simultaneously baffled by it, yet also warm-hearted as I remembered how it felt to use my Grandmother’s typewriter when I used to visit her as a little girl. I learned how to type, at least in part, by using that typewriter—and there was a lot to love about it, even in comparison to the slicker school computers that I used around that same time period. Every story I wrote on that device felt singular and individual because, well, that’s how a typewriter works. Every letter you type is permanent, but also simultaneously fleeting; you can’t ever save your work, except for the piece of paper upon which you printed it. The same is true for a story written in a journal, but I usually wrote in my journals with pencils; on a typewriter, you couldn’t delete or erase your work. Every letter, in addition to being difficult to press in a physical sense, carried emotional import.
That’s the exact opposite of how I approach writing on a computer, then and now—writing and deleting, readjusting, and constantly questioning. I have the luxury of instant deletion, as well as seemingly endless preservation. The typewriter represents the opposite of that.
I think the Qwerkywriter—and many other mockable “hipster” artifacts, like Polaroid-inspired filters for digital photos—allow us to remember, if only subconsciously, how special our creations once felt. Photographs, especially Polaroids, once seemed simultaneously singular and impermanent, just like typewriter stories. But now, the internet has made it almost impossible for us to delete anything, even if we want to.
The Qwerkywriter doesn’t let us go back in time, of course—nor does it even try. That typewriter is still hooked up to a digital device. It has bluetooth. The keystrokes entered upon it can be recorded and preserved forever, perhaps even without the user’s knowledge or consent. The internet never forgets. And even if we don’t put our work online, anything we create now is a product of that culture, in our new world of endlessly preserved mundane, meme-ified memories.
Anyway, you can buy a typewriter on eBay for way less.
(via Engadget, image via Qwerkytoys Inc)
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