When you think of East Germany, or rather, the former German Democratic Republic, one might think low-grade gear stamped out under the yoke of a Soviet regime, where quotas often mattered more than quality. But, perhaps cracks formed under watchful eyes. An underground movement took root. A resistance ahead of its time. A typewriter revolution. Their mission: manufacture an ultra-thin, ultra-chic, ultra-awesome typewriter. The Groma Kolibri. A jewel in an otherwise drab landscape. It infiltrated the West in the attache cases of every foreign embassy attache.
You’ll often find the back of these typewriters stamped: USSR Occupied. Who decided to apply this label? The manufacturer as a protest gesture? Or perhaps someone in the West, as a reminder of which Germany made it, because the stamp it came with only said: Made in Germany. In hindsight it’s a curious artifact, but at the time these words mattered. And for us writers, a reminder of the difference between lightening and lightening bug.
Regardless of your political whims, the Kolibri is a killer.
If Apple made a typewriter, it would be a Kolibri.
Mighty. Small. Seriously thin.
Now only if it were ridiculously light, then we’d call it a Modern Wonder of the Industrial Age. The body feels like inch thick forged steel that it could withstand a round from a Kalashnikov. It’s solid and stable. Plant it on your desk and it won’t defect. The keys rise out of the body to meet your fingers at just the right angle. When you type, the action is crisp and precise, there’s no sloppiness or wavering of any kind. A peek below the keys reveals why: the arms and joints are solid and substantial. They didn’t skimp anywhere on this machine. Manufacturing tolerances in typewriters are already tight, even more so on the Kolibri.
That’s probably why the carriage return lever skims the surface of the ribbon cover. If you don’t have it snapped on just right, the lever will scrape it. Almost every image I’ve seen of the Kolibri has this tell-tale signature. But get the cover positioned correctly and you’re not in danger. Still, the return lever is a short, stubby thing that’s hard to catch with your fingers. It reminds me of the Hermes Rocket, another ultra-portable with an even smaller lever. When your fingers are flying and the words are piling up, it’s the type of lever that will slow you down.
Is it good for the big project? Is this my everyday typewriter for meeting my 2,000 word quota? Probably not. But if short dispatches are your thing, or you’re looking to add an uber cool vibe to your wordplay arsenal, then the Kolibri has an undeniable charm that’s hard to resist. It doesn’t take up much space and when you take it out, it has the wow appeal that will put a smile on your face.
Or if you’re heading to the cabin, toss the Kolibri in your backpack and keep on writing! It’d be great for that vacation journal you always intended to write. Or if you really want to make a fuss, take it on your next flight and see what TSA makes of it! And when you get airborne, if that rude person in front of you jacks their seat into your lap, just whip out the Kolibri, put it on the tray and bang out some stuff, putting a little extra jab into each key. Ha. Take that! Well, maybe not, us writers usually don’t like to call attention to ourselves. But knowing you have the Kolibri in the overhead, just in case, will make you happy. It’ll also make your muse happy.