Acknowledgments

What is your problem? Out of all possible questions you could be asking in this life, which one defines the flight path of your mental holding pattern? What is the question that you are always asking, even when to others (and perhaps to yourself) you seem to be changing the subject constantly? And why this problem? To answer these questions is exhausting and wonderful. It takes everything you have.

But to the outside world, it is socially and financially essential to make this process seem orderly and composed. To seem like we have things under control. At the outset of a new project, we say what needs saying in cover letters and funding proposals, at conferences and cocktail parties. But the truth knows better. The first thousand miles are propelled by faith, not in the answer you will find, but in the joy of the labor itself, and a fragile but persistent sense that something of value awaits if only you can hold on.

Without a well-timed and balanced mixture of criticism and faith, close friends and colleagues, it is all too easy to lose touch with this inner sense. Alex Cook continues to be one of my most cherished friends. Without his insight, kindness, and sobering humor, I have no idea where I’d be. I also wish to express my gratitude to Matt Gleeson, who is not only a dear friend, brilliant writer, and longtime music partner, but also the most talented developmental editor I’ve ever worked with. As before, I thank Mattie Zelin for her continued support and mentorship—once your advisee, always your advisee. And I thank my families, both by kinship and by kindred spirit: Tom, Merri, Sonia, the late and beloved Giancarlo (IK3IES), Speranza, Scott, Mojgan, Cameron, Laura, Samantha, Mario, Fabiana, Alessio, Andy, Salley, Olivia, Kari, Annelise, Katie, Ruben, Sarah, Dennis, and Kelley.

My colleagues at Stanford may not know this, but a substantial part of my decision to set out on this book project was inspired by informal lunchtime conversations that followed my mid-term reappointment. Senior colleagues I deeply admire took me aside and subjected my entire intellectual being to dissection and scrutiny. It was unsettling, but I like unsettling. Although the idea of the Chinese typewriter had already taken hold of me by this point, it was in large part thanks to these conversations that I decided to be true to myself—unapologetically, radically, and uncompromisingly true to that inner sense of which I just spoke.

In particular, I wish to thank the generosity and criticism of Kären Wigen, Tamar Herzog, Paula Findlen, and Matt Sommer—you have been harbormasters to me, helping me navigate the unseen mountain ranges that lie beneath the surface. Thank you also to Gordon Chang, Londa Schiebinger, Robert Proctor, Zephyr Frank, Jessica Riskin, Steve Zipperstein, Estelle Freedman, Richard Roberts, and Fred Turner for innumerable hallway conversations you likely don’t remember (but which I will not forget). Thank you as well to Jim Campbell for inspiring me to try my hand at curating an exhibition, and to Becky Fischbach for showing me how it’s done. I am also deeply grateful to intellectual fellow travelers Miyako Inoue, Yumi Moon, Jun Uchida, and Matt for reading the full early draft of this book, as well as to Haiyan Lee and Monica Wheeler. I am deeply thankful to my students as well, for this project particularly Gina Tam, Andrew Elmore, Ben Allen, and Jennifer Hsieh.

Archivists and librarians are the very best of humanity and of the academy. There should be a bank holiday just in their honor. I cannot hope to repay my debt, both in general and in particular, and so allow me instead to offer thanks to Zhaohui Xue, Regan Murphy Kao, Grace Yang, Charles Fosselman, Jidong Yang, Lisa Nguyen, Hsiao-ting Lin, and Carol Leadanham at Stanford University; Liwei Yang and the late Bill Frank at the Huntington Library, Jacques Perrier at the Musée de la Machine à Écrire, David Baugh at the Philadelphia Records Office, Ann Marie Linnabery at the Niagara County Historical Society, Cyrille Foasso at the Musée des Arts et Métiers, Trina Yeckley and Kevin Bailey at the National Archives and Records Administration, Ulf Kyneb and Anette Jensen at the Danish National Archives, Taos-Hélène Hani at the Bibliothèque Nationale de France, David Kessler at the Bancroft Library, Rene Stein at the National Cryptologic Museum, Enrico Bandiera, Arturo Rolfo, and Marcello Turchetti at the Archivio Storico Olivetti, Maria Mayr at the Mitterhofer Schreibmaschinenmuseum, Nancy Miller at the University of Pennsylvania Archives, Wang Hsien-chun at the Academia Sinica, Craig Orr, Cathy Keen, and David Haberstich at the Smithsonian Institution, John Moffett at the Needham Research Institute, Stacy Fortner at the IBM Corporate Archives, Diane Kaplan at the Yale University Library Manuscripts and Archives division, Ben Primer at the Princeton University Library Rare Books and Special Collections, Geoff Alexander at the Academic Film Archive of North America, John Strom at the Carnegie Institution, Patrick Dowdey at Wesleyan University, Thomas Russo at the Museum of Business History and Technology, Jan Shearsmith at the Museum of Science and Industry, Alan Renton and Charlotte Dando at the Porthcurno Telegraph Museum, John Hutchins at the Machine Translation Archive, G.M. Goddard at the University of Sheffield, Charles Aylmer at the Cambridge University Library, Deb Boyer at PhillyHistory, Lucas Clawson and Carol Lockman at the Hagley Museum and Library, Frank Romano at the Museum of Printing, Ming-sun Poon at the Library of Congress, Donna Rhodes at Pearl S. Buck International, Henning Hansen in Copenhagen, Rolf Heinen in Drolshagen, Victoria West at the V&A Archive, Rory Cook at the Science Museum (London), Remi Dubuisson at the United Nations Archive (New York), Sherman Seki at the University of Hawai‘i at Manoa, Rebecca Johnson Melvin at the University of Delaware, Jim Bowman at FEBC International, Myles Crowley at MIT, Katherine Fox at the Harvard Business School, Raymond Lum at Harvard University, Paul Robert at the Virtual Typewriter Museum, Dag Spicer, Hansen Hsu, David Brock, Marguerite Gong Hancock, and Poppy Haralson at the Computer History Museum, and colleagues at the Beijing Municipal Archives, the Shanghai Municipal Archives, the Shanghai library, the Tianjin Municipal Archives, Tsinghua University, and Fudan University. Given the state of affairs in Chinese archives at present, and the sensitivities surrounding access and personnel, I opt not to list your names.

Historians of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries enjoy a rare pleasure that many of our colleagues do not: conversing with family members and descendants of the historical personages in our work, not to mention the individuals themselves. In the research and writing of this book, I have been graced in this respect more times than anyone could reasonably expect, and for this I am particularly thankful. I am grateful to Ruth Johnson and Kellogg S. Stelle, grandniece and great-grandson of Devello Sheffield, inventor of the first Chinese typewriter; Shu Chonghui, grandson of Shu Zhendong, co-inventor of China’s first mass-manufactured Chinese typewriter; Yu Shuolin, son of Yu Binqi, inventor and manufacturer of the Yu-Style Chinese Typewriter; John Marshall, Stan Umeda, and Christine Umeda for sharing so much with me about the late Hisakazu Watanabe and his Japanese typewriters; Andrew Sloss, son of Robert Sloss; James Yee and Pastor Joy Yee, who reached out to me and gave me what became the first Chinese typewriter in my collection (a story I retell briefly in the book); and Pastor Tony Kuriyama and Hideko Kuriyama for donating their beautiful Japanese Panwriter. I have also had the bracing experience, on more than one occasion now, of returning to emails in my inbox sent by individuals who passed away during the course of researching and writing this book. Special thanks and farewell go to Chan Yeh, inventor of the IPX system, who kindly spoke to me on multiple occasions.

Many scholars made critical contributions to early drafts of the book, and to the research process as a whole. While of course taking full responsibility for all errors or shortcomings that remain, I am most grateful to Annelise Heinz, Miyako Inoue, Rob Culp, Michael Gibbs Hill, Kariann Yokota, and Mara Mills for reading and offering invaluable feedback on the entire book manuscript; and to Christopher Reed, Lisa Gitelman, Endymion Wilkinson, Sigrid Schmalzer, Eugenia Lean, Roy Chan, Rebecca Slayton, Andrew Gordon, and Raja Adal for reading substantial portions thereof. I am also deeply grateful to Geof Bowker, Mark Elliott, Jeff Wasserstrom, Erik Baark, Wen-hsin Yeh, Nick Tackett, Victor Mair, Chris Leighton, Fa-ti Fan, Glenn Tiffert, John Kelly, Shumin Zhai, Ingrid Richardson, Cyril Galland, Paul Feigelfeld, Kurt Jacobsen, Kim Brandt, Jim Hevia, Judith Farquhar, Denise Ho, Joan Judge, Josh Fogel, Li Chen, Michael Schoenhals, Kaushik Sunder Rajan, Geremie Barmé, Emma Teng, Melissa Brown, Michael Fischer, Toby Lincoln, Nicole Barnes, Claire-Akiko Brisset, Jacob Eyferth, Brian Rotman, Stefan Tanaka, Cynthia Brokaw, Lydia Liu, Bill Kirby, Lisa Onaga, Ramekon O’Arwisters, John Williams, Tae-Ho Kim, Zev Handel, Steve Harrell, Pat Ebrey, Marlon Zhu, Ken Lunde, Joe Katz, Kees Kuiken, Elize Wong, Yung-O Biq, Cao Nanping, Ann Blair, Jana Remy, Stijn Vanorbeek, Wolfgang Behr, Jean-Louis Ruijters, and three anonymous outside reviewers. For their assistance on the data visualizations of tray beds, I would like to thank Alberto Pepe, Rui Lu, Li Meng, and Lanna Wu. My thanks as well to a community of talented research assistants at Stanford, including Samantha Toh, Youjia Li, Mona Huang, Chuan Xu, Anna Polishchuk, Truman Chen, and Yuqing Luo. Special thanks go to Suzanne Moon and her associates at Technology and Culture, both for their early support of this project and for permission to reprint those parts of chapter 7 that appeared in the October 2012 issue of the journal under the title “The Moveable Typewriter: How Chinese Typists Developed Predictive Text during the Height of Maoism.” Thanks also go to Ben Elman and Jing Tsu for permission to reprint those parts of chapter 2 that appeared in the edited volume Science and Republican China (Leiden: Brill, 2014) under the title “Semiotic Sovereignty: The 1871 Chinese Telegraph Code in Global Historical Perspective.” Finally, my thanks go to Jeff Wasserstrom and Jennifer Munger for permission to include those parts of chapter 5 that appeared in the August 2016 issue of the Journal of Asian Studies under the title “Controlling the Kanjisphere.”

Research for this book was possible thanks to the generous support of many institutions. The author wishes to express thanks to the Hellman Faculty Fund, the Stanford University Freeman Spogli Institute China Fund, the National Science Foundation, the Stanford University Center for East Asian Studies, and sabbatical support from Stanford University and the Department of History. In particular, I wish to offer my heartfelt thanks to Fred Kronz at the NSF, whose patience and encouragement saw me through what otherwise would have been a discouraging process of revision and resubmission (not to mention one bizarre political witch hunt). I also wish to thank the MIT Press, and especially Katie Helke. I am thankful to Amy Brand, Katie Hope, Michael Sims, Matthew Abbate, Colleen Lanick, Justin Kehoe, Yasuyo Iguchi, and David Ryman. At the Weatherhead Institute, special thanks go to Carol Gluck and Ross Yelsey.

And now let me begin. Why we authors wait until the end of our acknowledgments to thank the ones who mean the most is a convention I have never understood—and yet here I go again. When I try to remember writing this book—to really remember—all I can summon to mind are thousands of fragmentary moments strewn between the true episodes of my life. I wrote this book as a conversation with you, Chiara, somewhere in between samphire and St. Ives, scala quaranta and Sudtirol, Battlestar and Black Bear Inn, Mission Pie and Mendocino, pie shops and Project Snow, road trips and rose milk tea, birthday cakes and Beijing, Drolshagen and dandelion, Lincoln and Lego models, City Hall and Cuochi e fiamme, Torcello and Tempesta d’amore, Purple Bamboo and Puccini, belonging to you and being your husband. This book is for you. You teach me bravery and balance. You shelter friends and slay vampires. I love you beyond all comprehension—including my own. Despite what strangers sometimes think, I honestly have no idea what I’m doing in life, and I’m anxious all the time. But when I’m by your side, I simply don’t care. You run my hurt away.