Just when I’ve got things organised in my life, you’ve got to check out
Novelist Ian McEwan tells HANNAH STEPHENSON about ageing, the ‘human’ robot in his new novel and why science can’t make machines feel love like a doting grandparent
FANS of prizewinning author Ian McEwan might imagine him to be a rather dour character, based on some of the difficult subjects and bleak settings of his novels.
He has tackled moral and ethical complexities within topics ranging from war and sexual repression to euthanasia and climate change, while his novels adapted for screen, including Atonement, On Chesil Beach, Enduring Love and The Children Act have provided drama for cinema-goers.
Yet speaking to him today, he doesn’t seem even slightly morose. Quite the opposite, especially when he talks about the joy of his grandchildren and his happy marriage to writer Annalena McAfee. Even turning 70, which he did last year, has its good points, he reflects.
“I decided at the age of around 68 to start thinking of myself as 70. When you go for a swim in a really cold pool in June, you have to go in very slowly, otherwise you might have a heart attack,” he jokes.
“When it came around, I gave a big party with a really good band and lots to eat and drink, and it’s been fine. I tell myself I’m not going under with number magic, because being 70 is much like being 69. I hope the same is true of 71.”
He is able to separate his world of fiction from his everyday real life, he explains.
“I know from my experience at the moment that I could be very happy in my personal life while around me, here we are in a
constitutional political crisis,” the Booker Prizewinning author and Remain campaigner says simply. “They are often in compartments.”
His latest book, Machines Like Me, is set in London in 1982, but in a different history to ours. Computer scientist Alan Turing has not killed himself in 1954, but is still alive and a national hero, while Tony Benn is Prime Minister
Ian says he often considers how easily history could have taken a different course.
“Here we are waiting to see whether we’ll be in the EU, or will have a deal, or will stay – and these can be down to quite small things, just one vote.
“What is true in the political landscape is also true of things in personal lives. Had your mum stayed in to wash her hair, she wouldn’t have met your dad. Everything forks and divides at every moment. I wanted to play with that.”
The most dramatic development in Machines Like Me is that of synthetic robots, known as Adams and Eves, creations of artificial intelligence that look like humans and have become available to buy.
We’re introduced to Charlie Friend, a computer enthusiast who’s in love with his girlfriend Miranda, a bright student who lives in the upstairs flat. When Charlie inherits some money, he buys Adam, one of the first synthetic humans.
Soon enough, though, Adam messes with Charlie’s personal life – sleeping with Miranda – learns how to de-activate his ‘kill’ switch, and challenges the notion machines can’t understand the human heart.
But Ian reckons we are still a long way off creating a truly effective ‘human’ robot: “We’ve got a very long way to go to getting the equivalent of a human brain, which only weighs just over a kilo, doesn’t overheat and runs on the strength of a dim lightbulb.”
The fact human beings have flaws is going to be another obstacle to creating the perfect human robot, he anticipates.
“When we come to make these creatures, we all want them to embody our notion of what’s good.
“We know what we approve of and disapprove of. I can well imagine that we will make our artificial humans to be kindly and rather moral. But what happens when we find out that Adam has a very different idea of justice from Charlie?”
Ian also questions some of the AI additions in his own real life.
“We have an Alexa machine. A friend told me that a lot of the conversation we have with Alexa is recorded and fed back into the network, so I think I’m going to unplug mine,” he says.
Ian is keen to keep control. He says he looks after himself more as he gets older, watches what he eats and exercises.
“I stayed out of hospital all my adult life, except for a couple of sports injuries, and now I’m just beginning what the great American writer Gore Vidal called ‘the hospital years’.
But he does have regrets about getting older, he admits. He has two grown-up sons and two
stepdaughters, and grandchildren too, so his home in the Cotswolds is frequently busy.
“I feel regret that just when I’ve got things reasonably well organised in my life, you’ve got to check out. Just when you’re beginning to like the hotel, you’ve got to move on.
“And I really like the hotel. I have three grandchildren born in the last four years – and they are an absolute delight. “No-one tells you that just when you think things are beginning to slow down, you get a chance at another love affair, which is children. It’s another explosion of love you didn’t count on. It wasn’t in your programme. It’s delightful.
“Nearly everyone I know who has become a grandparent in their 50s, 60s or 70s expresses this delight and surprise at how they are completely taken.
“Not something you could easily replicate with any sort of robot – at least not in our lifetime.”
Had your mum stayed in to wash her hair, she wouldn’t have met your dad. Everything forks and divides at every moment.