In great books one perceives, beyond the plot, an invisible trace, a thickness constituted by the past of the writer, by what he thought and what he lived. I think of artificial intelligence as a creative machine.

I wonder if AI, which works in pure present, could build that thickness. Only the author knows his technique – the karate of his life – but in this case it seems to be made, in large part, of deep humanity. Of a thickness that the machine cannot provide.