Karma is a funny thing. I'm a believer in things happening for a reason, and when I saw friend of the blog GlennHK lose his beloved pens and pen case last week I was hoping they would turn back up quickly. They haven't unfortunately, but a funny thing happen at Random.org this morning:
And comment #51 just happened to be:
Congrats Glenn! I know this won't replace all that was lost but it is a start. Get in touch and I'll get this pen headed your way.
Karma.
(Susan M. Pigott is a fountain pen collector, pen and paperholic, photographer, and professor. You can find more from Susan on her blog Scribalishess.)
The Franklin-Christoph Model 20 "Marietta" is a simple, minimalistic pen. Originally offered in black, the pen also comes in a beautiful olive- green color, and I'm told other colors will be offered soon. The design, with clean lines and a few flourishes, is reminiscent of vintage pens.
The Marietta is the perfect size for me. It's a slender pen compared to many of the other Franklin-Christoph models. It can be comfortably used posted or unposted. The pen is 5.0 inches (127mm) from nib tip to barrel end and 5.45 inches capped (138.43mm). The barrel diameter is .51 inches (12.95mm), and the grip is .41 inches (10.41mm) at its smallest. The pen weighs 22.7 grams with the converter (no ink).
One of the best design features is that the grip has absolutely no threads to worry your fingers. The cap slips on and off rather than screwing, so the grip is completely smooth. And, the cap makes a satisfying "click" sound when you slip it off the pen.
Matching grooves adorn the top of the cap and the bottom of the barrel adding interest to the otherwise straight lines.
The clip is small (about half the size of the cap) and sports the diamond motif.
An "F" is engraved in the finial.
The company's name and model number are lightly engraved around the cap. I appreciate the subtle branding of Franklin-Christoph pens.
I chose an 18K gold Masuyama medium cursive italic for my Marietta.
Even though I love the steel nib on my Model 65, I wanted a gold nib for the Marietta. I thought the gold diamond etched on the nib would complement the green color of the pen, and it does.
Like most of the other Franklin-Christoph pens, the Marietta can be used with a cartridge, a converter (included), or as an eyedropper. For now, I'm using the converter though I may turn my Marietta into an eyedropper eventually.
The pen wrote perfectly the first time I inked it. For my written review, I used Sailor Jentle Epinard, an ink that matches the pen almost exactly. I've had no problems with hard starts or skipping. It's a firm nib, but it writes a gorgeous line with just enough variation to give my handwriting character.
I don't have anything negative to say about this pen. It's beautiful, light, comfortable to write with, and has a great nib. The color is unique and sophisticated. I love the ease of the slip on cap and the simple, elegant design. I am so glad Franklin-Christoph made the pen in a color other than black, and I'm looking forward to the other colors they will offer in the future.
The Marietta starts at $165 (steel nib) and comes with a leather case. With a Franklin-Christoph 1.9 steel music nib, the pen costs $175. The pen costs $255 with any 18K Franklin-Christoph nib. And for nibs specially ground by Mike Masuyama, you'll pay $180 for steel and $270 for 18K gold.
Pros
Cons
Note: I purchased this pen for my own use and was not compensated by Franklin-Christoph for this review.
(This is a guest post by Jon Bemis. You can find Jon on Twitter @jtower42.)
(Note: This story is true. I have changed a few details to respect people’s privacy. The internet is a small world.)
I don’t really like pencils. I’m a pen person – fountain, gel, rollerball, even ballpoint. For me, there are just too many reasons not to use a pencil. Let me enumerate them.
Everyone knows the problems. You stick your pencil into a blind hole, twist and pray. Too little, and you don’t have a sharp point. Too much, and you lose too much wood, expose the tip and snap it off… and I just realized what an awkward turn this has taken. Kids, if you don’t know how pencil sharpening works, ask your parents or health ed teacher. Moving on.
Dang it, I did it again. I don’t know what it is about pencils that make me turn to innuendo and cheap jokes. I swear it won’t happen again.
Erasers. All that rubbing, and heat, and it’s messy afterward…Someone stop me. I need help.
I really do have a problem with eraser schnibbles. They make my skin crawl. Seriously, I have a huge hang-up about little bits of eraser all over my paper, my desk, my office floor. Just gross.
I don’t want anyone think I’m going to go on some anti-pencil tirade. Just because I personally don’t like pencils, and frankly don’t GET pencils, doesn’t mean I don’t respect those who do. It’s like cats. I don’t like cats and don’t get why people do like cats, but when some dear friends recently lost a beloved cat, I was there to offer my condolences. I understand that some people like pencils or cats the same way I like pens or, um, not cats.
But until recently, the mind of the pencil-lover was a mystery to me. I understood intellectually that some people preferred pencils, but I didn’t truly get it. Recently, however, I had an excellent conversation with a co-worker named Lucas, and I started to really understand. Join me in a flashback to establish the context for this graphite epiphany:
Like many “better writing” enthusiasts, even though I have my favorites, I am always willing to buy and try new things. So I had purchased a box each of Blackwings and 602’s, a couple of General 580s, and two different Uni Kuru Toga models. (Full disclosure, I do use the Kuru Toga’s infrequently but regularly for sketching product ideas, doodling and math.) I tried the woodcase pencils, but for all the reasons above, none of them could displace pens on an everyday basis.
For my co-worker Lucas, pencils were the only choice. I noticed he was using the Dixon Ticonderogas from our office supply closet (not at all a bad pencil,) and that he never used a pen. I knew he wasn’t someone I could talk to about pens, but I could still try to lead him down the path into the Lovecraftian nightmare grotto of writing instrument addiction.
So I stopped by his cube one afternoon with a couple of Blackwing 602s. I gave them to him and tried to give him some context. I told him about the legendary Palomino brand, its demise and its resurrection by Pencils.com. I swore to him that he would perceive a difference between the Ticonderoga and the 602. I talked about aromatic cedar wood. Throughout this whole conversation, I was trying to be cautious. The one thing I didn’t want to do was overwhelm him with pencil information or trivia. I might have overshot a little when I told him about the Erasable Podcast. That was the moment when I got the look like I was crazy.
“What do they talk about?” he asked. “Just… PENCILS?” “Oh no,” I replied hurriedly. “They talk about paper and sharpeners and erasers too.” Strangely, this did not remove the skeptical look from his face. Suddenly feeling a flush creeping up my neck, I tried to get out of this conversation as quickly as I could. “I promise you, you’ll love the Blackwing. Just try it, and let me know what you think,” I said.
I backed out of his cubicle. His right eyebrow never left its incredulous perch halfway up his forehead.
For a couple of weeks, I tried to avoid Lucas. There wasn’t any ducking into supply closets or anything, but I certainly took a circuitous route around his cube. I felt like I’d told him I liked to drink pickle juice, or collected ceramic unicorns, or something equally mortifying and terrible. Even though I was merely trying to share the joy of writing, I felt embarrassed.
Finally, after chiding myself for being ridiculous, I stopped by his cubicle and asked him how he liked writing with the Blackwing. He looked at me, and I was surprised to see that HE looked embarrassed! “I thought there was NO WAY I’d be able to tell any difference between two pencils,” he said. “But man, that pencil you gave me is really smooth.”
I couldn’t help myself. I grinned. The ice had been broken. I wasn’t a pencil-pushing lunatic any more; I was just a guy with a geeky hobby. I decided to take this newfound, delicate connection out for a spin. “So, tell me, why pencils? I just can’t get into pencils – I’m pretty strictly a pen guy,” I asked.
“Well,” Lucas said, “In my job (accounting) accuracy is so critical. If I write down the wrong number and enter the wrong thing, it could be disastrous. So, if I make a mistake, I like to be able to erase it.” I nodded. “If I use pen and have to cross out a number or a date, I’ll question myself later why I crossed it out. But if I erase it, it’s gone forever.”
There was a pause.
“I know that sounds a little crazy,” he said. “I’m kind of… I mean, I’m not really OCD, but I am kind of…” “Particular?” I ventured. “That’s a good way to put it. My whole life is kind of well-organized,” he said. “I even had a girlfriend once who said she was afraid to move my stuff because I was so anal-retentive about it. We broke up after a while.”
This was a little bit of a moment. I didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “Well,” I finally said, “that’s why there are so many kinds of pens and pencils in the world. There’s something out there that works perfectly for everyone."
I had a meeting to get to. “Hey, if you need more Blackwings, let me know. I have two dozen, and I’ll never get around to using all of them,” I said. “See ya later.”
“See ya,” he said.
I walked to my meeting with a smile on my face. I was relieved that Lucas no longer thought I was an office supply psychopath. I was also glad to be reminded of the best part of the writing community; that connections can be made over something as simple as a pencil.
