![]() ![]() It’s the work of the novelist and journalist Stephen Marche, who coaxed the story from three programs, ChatGPT, Sudowrite and Cohere, using a variety of prompts. Now comes a new novella, “Death of an Author,” a murder mystery published under the pseudonym Aidan Marchine. Its presence has crawled like a tumor through the spine of their other abiding freakouts. ChatGPT has given many authors a case of the dreads. It provides autofill, or something like it, on an uncanny level. The fire has been stirred under these questions thanks to the sudden arrival of sophisticated artificial intelligence chatbots, notably ChatGPT. Jorge Luis Borges made a decisive career out of recognizing, in his ficciones, the near impossibility of making original works of literature. Theodore Adorno argued that writing poetry after Auschwitz was barbaric. Samuel Richardson, in the 18th century, wondered if the novel had said what it had to say. That was your human correspondent, writing on a laptop in a drafty apartment in Manhattan and advancing an argument that’s been plausibly made for centuries: that literature is dead. Those weren’t, you might have guessed, words from Siri. What’s come since has been the death rattle, and remixes of that death rattle.” The last one that mattered, closing a millennium’s loop, was probably Zadie Smith’s ‘ White Teeth,’ published in 2000. The first novel was probably Murasaki Shikibu’s ‘ Tale of Genji,’ written in the 11th century. ![]() “Since you asked, it was the subtlest form of expression known to humans. ![]()
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