text_original: One thing made him smile as he recalled it. His father would not use a typewriter, and anything written in his strange, cramped hand would look suspicions at once. And he knew, too, that his father would resent even the touch of strangers on the beloved pages. He smiled a little bitterly. "Go on, Ivan," he said. "Let's hear it all."
text_transcription: ONE THING MADE HIM SMILE AS HE RECALLED IT HIS FATHER WOULD NOT USE A TYPEWRITER AND ANYTHING WRITTEN IN HIS STRANGE CRAMPED HAND WOULD LOOK SUSPICIOUS AT ONCE AND HE KNEW TOO THAT HIS FATHER WOULD RESENT EVEN THE TOUCH OF STRANGERS ON THE BELOVED PAGES HE SMILED A LITTLE BITTERLY GO ON IVAN HE SAID LET'S HEAR IT ALL
phonemes: wˈʌn θˈɪŋ mˌeɪd hˌɪm smˈaɪl æz hiː ɹᵻkˈɔːld ɪt. hɪz fˈɑːðɚ wʊd nˌɑːt jˈuːz ɐ tˈaɪpɹaɪɾɚ, ænd ˈɛnɪθˌɪŋ ɹˈɪʔn̩ ɪn hɪz stɹˈeɪndʒ, kɹˈæmpt hˈænd wʊd lˈʊk səspˈɪʃənz ɐtwˈʌns. ænd hiː nˈuː, tˈuː, ðæt hɪz fˈɑːðɚ wʊd ɹᵻzˈɛnt ˈiːvən ðə tˈʌtʃ ʌv stɹˈeɪndʒɚz ɔnðə bᵻlˈʌvd pˈeɪdʒᵻz. hiː smˈaɪld ɐ lˈɪɾəl bˈɪɾɚli. "ɡˌoʊ ˈɔn, ˈaɪvən," hiː sˈɛd. "lˈɛts hˈɪɹ ɪɾ ˈɔːl."