I’m now struggling with a new, albeit nascent, addiction, courtesy of Massdrop. For the past year, thanks to people such as Harry Marks and Patrick Rhone who have written lovingly of their vintage manual typewriters, I’ve been wanting one. And I can say that I’ve successfully resisted. In full disclosure: this is not so much a testament to my own willpower as it is to my fear of my wife, who made clear in no uncertain terms that a “typewriter collection” was not in our future. So needless to say, I’ve been hunting around for the next best thing.
Like most people today, and especially office professionals, I do the majority of my daily work on a computer. While I enjoy writing things by hand, the vast majority of my work (for both the day job and the side hustle) needs to be typed in order for the end product to be legible and usable to someone other than me. The problem is that I generally hate using computers to write, especially the (five-year old) Dells we use at the office. There’s no character to typing on modern keyboards, no satisfying click/clack feedback that you used to get from a typewriter. (You purists out there—put aside for the moment that nothing compares "character-wise" to the sensation of putting nib or pencil to paper. I agree with you. But you must admit, it’s not always possible, much less practical.) I’m old enough to have learned to type on my Dad’s old IBM Selectric typewriter (later, the PC Jr.) and Apple IIs at school, and for those of you who have not had that typing experience, it was light-years from what we have today. Much louder, of course, but that’s part of the fun.
Needless to say, I was intrigued when I was surfing Massdrop last week and came across an entire new product category that I had been completely unaware of. Mechanical Keyboards (link here). So what’s a mechanical keyboard? I’ve done some intensive research (read: wasted a lot of time on the internet and spent a lot of money) over the past two weeks and feel that I have enough of a rudimentary understanding to write this review and explain, in lay person terms, the difference between a quality mechanical keyboard and the $15.99 piece of crap that in all likelihood is sitting on your office desk or is attached to your work-issued windows laptop. **DISCLAIMER: I now own two of these things. I first purchased one (a Corsair K70) at Best Buy on a lark so that I could try it and easily return it if the experience was not everything I wanted. Two days later, I had purchased another so I could have one at home and one at work. You’ve been warned.**
Your typical keyboard these days is what is called a “membrane keyboard.” With my limited technical knowledge, I can best explain it as follows: the plastic keys, when depressed, put pressure on a “membrane”—essentially, a rubber mat overlaid with electrical circuits—which relays a signal to the computer that registers the keystroke. Because membrane keyboards have few moving parts, and the keys don’t have to travel very far to “actuate” (I.e., register a keystroke) they are very light, very quiet, and, most significantly, very cheap to manufacture. On the other hand, they are not very accurate, and frequently lead to common typos such as a keypress not being registered, or a key registering a double press. (Leading to typos such as “OMG I hte this keyboardd.”)
Membrane keyboards offer a very different experience from the keyboards that I used growing up, when I learned to type in middle school. Those keyboards were loud, as in, nearly as loud as typewriter keyboards. At school in the late 1980s and early 1990s, we worked on Macs featuring the old Apple Extended and Apple Extended II keyboards. At home (before my parents caved and bought us a Mac), we had an IBM PC Jr. with the full-size Model M keyboard. Perhaps some of it is simply nostalgia for the time when having a computer at all was a novelty, but I just remember that those keyboards (and those computers in general) were much more fun to use. Today’s computers, which all have the low-profile, cheap plastic chiclet keyboard that weights 3 oz and feels like you could break it over your knee (or maybe even with your bare hands), just aren’t.