Machines Like Me by Ian McEwan: A review

In his latest book, Machines Like Me, Ian McEwan gives us a bit of alternative history, a bit of science fiction, and wraps it all up in a unique menage a trois love story featuring a fully-functional humanoid robot named Adam.

In the world of this novel, Alan Turing did not die in 1954; he is still alive in the London of the 1980s, and, having been knighted by the queen, he lives openly with his longtime partner and is contributing to the advancement of computer technology and artificial intelligence. He is a much-honored member of society whose work during World War II and later is recognized for the world-changing event that it was. And Turing is the idolized hero of Charlie Friend, one of the main characters in this story.

Charlie leads a rather drab existence in which he makes a living - sort of - by playing the stock and currency markets. He lives in a shabby apartment and pines for the woman who lives upstairs, an enigma named Miranda.

He is also obsessed with robots, and when he unexpectedly comes into some money, he decides to spend it all on one of the first "Adams" to come on the market. There are twenty-five of these robots produced, 13 "Eves" along with 12 Adams and they are fully humanoid. They breathe and they are able to learn and can make moral judgments. They are not sex toys, but they are fully capable of a sexual relationship.

Charlie brings his Adam home and makes an agreement with Miranda to share designing his personality. Charlie will answer half the questions that establish the personality and Miranda will answer half. Soon their collaboration leads Charlie and Miranda into the sexual relationship which Charlie had desired, but he is appalled when he learns that Miranda has also had sex with Adam! And furthermore, it was very good sex!

Moreover, we learn that Adam, too, is in love with Miranda and that he composes haikus in her honor. A haiku-writing robot - what could be more human?

This odd relationship is further complicated by the introduction of a young boy, Mark, whose parents are abusive. Charlie and Miranda (especially Miranda) long to adopt the boy and free him from his abusive parents and they scheme to make it so.

Meanwhile, their other "child," Adam, seems to have established a higher ethical standard than either of his "parents." Charlie had assigned him the task of doing all his investing while he concentrated on his relationship with Miranda and Adam had quickly made a fortune with the investments, but he is troubled by the accumulation of that wealth and by the need which he sees existing in the world. It doesn't seem to him that Charlie and Miranda deserve all this wealth while others have to scrimp and save and suffer and he decides to do something about it.

Charlie and Miranda are complicated characters. Miranda has a particularly horrendous backstory and Charlie is not especially accomplished at dealing with reality. Can this relationship be saved? Can Mark be saved? Can Adam be saved, or, perhaps more to the point, can Adam save them all?

This is in many ways a tragic story of all too human foibles. The characters in McEwan's tale embody noble human qualities of love and family, but also less noble qualities like jealousy and deceit. And, in the end, Adam may be the noblest "human" of them all.

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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