Unless robots can be surprised they cannot write literature. Unless AI can be startled and set back on its heels it cannot understand humans. No one can think without this quality; the ability to reconsider what you had thought, the impression that you were mistaken about someone, the idea that a person is not who you had thought, for better or for ill.
Good literature exists to open us to aspects of the human condition that heretofore were veiled to us. It is why philosophers teach Jane Austen to talk about the delicacies of early love and why I often recommend Mrs. Bridge by Ian McConnell to women in midlife. It is the reason that Sam and Frodo’s friendship is more than an account of “what happened” between them.
Accounts of new developments in AI continue apace and I remain not concerned about the dangers of the technology itself but at how poorly we seem to understand what humans are.