I just looked into my mind and this came up: Yes, there will be „flawless“ AI books. And then there will be bookstores, reading circles, book park events, secret swaps in busses, festivals, solely dedicated to „made up by a human mind“ stories. Maybe even camp fires, or at least a candle surrounded by humans.
And because these, the human thought of stories we read at nighttime, they will make themselves cozy in our bodies and stay there.
And because those stories will have beautiful imperfections, we will see ourselves mirrored in them.
And because those stories will have a human heart quality, these are the ones, we will buy, read, gift, write ourselves, leave in trains or on door stoops.
And because of those stories, we might want to know more about the human who has written those books; a depth and richness which a non-human book cannot provide. And I’m here for it.
I want to keep on reading books that either catch me and drag my heart into this story; or read books I find „oh, well“. I am not interested in a book that fulfils my every dream (and I assume an AI book provided with the right prompts could do exactly that). I want a book with real pages, read times and times again on a train, at the beach, on a sofa, between other humans sitting on a park bench.
Basically, I want to say hooray to Daphne du Maurier, Astrid Lindgren, Struan Murray, Andrea Wulf, Oliver Jeffers and about 742 other human book writers who made and make my world so so much more beautiful.
Crickey Grace, who would have thought I can cry over a cartoon. 🙂 thank you.
