Michael Gustafson

When Literati Books opened in Ann Arbor Michigan, the owner put an old typewriter out in the stacks, with a sheet of paper in it, curious about what might happen. In his wildest dreams, he imagined a sort of never ending story, where each patron would pick up where the last one left off; a true community built novel. Pragmatically, he figured he'd end up with a lot of nonsense or jokes about bodily functions.

What he got was something totally different and totally special. People wrote some show more silly stuff, but they also wrote poems, posed philosophical questions, proposed, broke up, and otherwise bared their souls. After several years of collecting the daily contributions, Gustafson was convinced to collect his favourites into what became this book.

Notes from a Public Typewriter is short, I think I read the whole thing in about an hour. It's almost purely a collection of what Gustafson considered the best, the funniest, the most touching. There are photos of the shop and patrons throughout, and every few pages, Gustafson writes a short essay-type piece to introduce context to some of the inclusions.

The 5 stars is because this book, for all its simplicity, moved me. By the end, it was hard to stay dry-eyed, to be honest. I'm sure Gustafson has collected a LOT of dreck over the years, but the simple lines he included here were honest, heart-felt, and sometimes raw.

I don't go looking for books that reveal what goes on beneath the surface, so I'm really no judge, but this one worked for me. What is on the face of it an anonymous, ever changing, mass of humanity going in and out the doors of one shop, is revealed in this short volume to be instead the very definition of a community. show less

Just what I needed to boost my 2022 reading challenge, a quick read, and the sort of book I thoroughly enjoy! Reminded me a little of the PostSecret Project. Here we read a collection of thoughts, hopes and fears written anonymously by customers of The Literati Bookstore in Michigan. They put an old typewriter out in the store with a blank piece of paper in it, ready to go! People took to it without any prompting. You could read it in a day. I lovingly stretched it out over a week. It’s show more easy to be open and honest when we know, no-one knows who we are, or is it? Some notes are funny, others will pull at your heart strings. Did I say already how much I love books like this! show less

My Takeaway

"Life, like this typewriter, has no backspace. Type strongly and don't look back."
Notes from a Public Typewriter

Occasionally, a book comes along you simply fall in love with and folks, we have a winner here! I learned about Notes from a Public Typewriter from an article featured on NPR. I unquestionably love my local indie bookstores and do my best to promote and support them. What better homage than buying a book from a local indie store about another indie bookstore?! I read show more this lovely book in one short sitting. It is such a charming little book filled with pictures, short passages, quotes and outlooks on life and of course books. Some are truly silly, while others seep deep into your heart. This book will be permanently placed on my coffee table and I already know I will buy extra copies to give as gifts. If I ever make it to Ann Arbor, the Literati Bookstore will be my #1 goal. I just wonder, what will I type? show less

A collection of comments typed by customers at the Literati Bookstore in Ann Arbor, Michigan, which makes a typewriter (and paper) available for public use. I confess I wasn’t eager to read it. I’m not a big believer in the wisdom of what used to be called “the man on the street,” regardless of sex, and there are so many ways a book like this could go wrong, starting with cloying sentimentality and moving on to cutesiness, bad jokes, and unrecognized quotations mistaken for original show more wisdom when neither. But I’m a typewriter enthusiast, and fortunately, I was surprised. The bookstore owners are smart people and attract interesting patrons. The bookstore logo is a typewriter, and people bring them typewriters, and after a while they hired an artist to cover an exterior wall with the writing they’ve collected.

The quotes are pretty good, although many people can’t resist reaching for an aphorism. Kids are always typewriters’ biggest fans, and they make several of the best contributions.

Ultimately, this is a love story to the bookstore and its customers—not to typewriters. The author tells the story of a woman who donated a Hermes 3000 to the store.


“If we put this typewriter out, be warned: It’s a death sentence,” I said. “Once a typewriter goes public, it’s got six months.”

I showed her our beautiful ruins—typewriters maligned by public use. They get knocked over; carriages malfunction; hammers bend. Many customers type too fast. The keys jam. In an attempt to fix those keys, a type-bar link detaches….I know all public typewriters will break eventually. When they do, we set some in our store window overlooking the sidewalk. The Boulevard of Broken Typewriters. It’s a nice view, at least.


There are stories interspersed with the typed bits: of how the typewriters connected a local street character with a seven-year-old boy, of a typewritten marriage proposal, of ghosts in the bookstore. They’re pretty good. It’s a testament to the author’s character that stories are about people in all their quirkiness and not about his own taste and wit.

There are several photos of a beautiful Rheinmetall machine, a make I have yet to see in person. In one of the photos, a customer has typed:

fart fart fa rt fa rt fart fart fart

My instincts about people are confirmed after all. show less