
Feedback is Âé¶čŽ«Ăœâs popular sideways look at the latest science and technology news. You can submit items you believe may amuse readers to Feedback by emailing feedback@newscientist.com
Bleaker house
One of the great joys in life, Feedback argues, is the perfect opening sentence of a book â and the concomitant realisation that, yes, this one is going to be good. âIt was the day my grandmother exploded.â âAs the manager of the Performance sits before the curtain on the boards and looks into the Fair, a feeling of profound melancholy comes over him in his survey of the bustling place.â âLetâs start with the end of the world, why donât we?â
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So we, and many others, were horrified by a passage in a recent in The New Yorker about how artificial intelligence might change reading. The suggestion was that AI might simplify challenging prose into something less tangled.
The example offered by writer Joshua Rothman was this line from the âmuddy and semantically tortuousâ opening of Charles Dickensâs Bleak House: âGas looming through the fog in divers places in the streets, much as the sun may, from the spongey fields, be seen to loom by husbandman and ploughboy.â The AI Claude reworks it thus: âGas lamps glow dimly through the fog at various spots throughout the streets, much like how the sun might appear to farmers working in misty fields.â
This was flagged by Tobias Wilson-Bates, an associate professor of 19th-century British literature, on Bluesky, where he said: â.â
We suppose that, on some level, Claude has managed to convey something of what Dickens was getting at, but we also suppose that things like cadence and scansion are relevant to the reading experience. The phrase âvarious spotsâ physically hurt when we read it. We also arenât sure that the passageâs sole purpose is to convey that things are a bit foggy. Everyone in Bleak House is threatened and stymied, and words like âloomâ and âspongeyâ set this mood.
But never mind literary criticism when we can amuse ourselves. What other dense prose passages could be summarised by AI for ease of consumption? Adam Sharp has already made some suggestions, again on Bluesky. For instance, take the opening line of Sylvia Plathâs novel The Bell Jar: âIt was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, and I didnât know what I was doing in New York.â Sharp suggests the following abridgement: â.â
And what about that overly long opener from Jane Austenâs Pride and Prejudice: âIt is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.â Surely we can boil that down a bit: âEveryone knows that rich, single men want to get married.â We encourage readers to identify similar prosey passages in need of AI-assisted simplification.
Burn before viewing
Brian Darvell recently obtained a DVD of the film Conclave and was thrown into theological confusion by a yellow sticker on the back that read: âSecurity Protected: Remove before microwaving.â That is one way to make white smoke.
The stork truth
Feedback didnât anticipate, when we reminded readers that correlation doesnât necessarily equal causation, quite such a flood of responses. What could have caused it?
Jim Handman writes in to remind us of two famously bizarre correlations. The number of pirates in the world has declined in near-perfect lockstep with the rise in global temperatures, leading to the slogan, â.â
Meanwhile, homicides tend to rise in line with ice cream sales. While this latter correlation âlooks goofyâ, says Jim, âthere is actually a good explanationâ. Warm weather encourages people to go outside, which increases social interaction, leading to âmore opportunities for ice cream consumption and, unfortunately, more opportunities for crimeâ. It certainly does: Feedback once went outside and bought an ice cream, only to have it stolen out of our hands by a seagull. Lesson learned. Feedback now eats ice cream indoors, away from marauding marine fauna.
A third correlation has already been discussed in a recent column: stork populations in some countries correlate with the number of children born. At the time, we assumed that this correlation was spurious. But three readers have offered possible mechanisms.
Hillary Shaw suggests a link with the built environment: âStorks like to nest in elevated places including house chimneys, pylons and church steeples.â Wealthier societies, which have lower birth rates, have replaced âunsightly pylonsâ with buried cables and donât put chimneys on centrally heated houses.
Paul Vann has a similar thought: âI recall from my A-level statistics days⊠that there was a positive correlation between the number of storksâ nests on houses in the Netherlands and the number of children in householdsâ. The explanation? âFamilies with more children tended to live in larger houses with more chimney stacks and therefore more storksâ nestsâ.
Finally, Brian Reffin Smith describes a site near a river in Germany âwhere storks aboundâ and âconstantly stoop to pick up thingsâ. Brian claims to have twice seen âsingle, unopened condom wrappersâ â raising the question of âwhether the storks are stealing them to ensure more babies, hence more jobs for themselvesâ. He offers a stern lesson: âNefarious intention is so often missing as a factor in statistical correlations.â
You decide which is most likely.
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