Notes from the agency — No. 2
Which AI will still write in an author’s style?
A working ledger of who complies, who hedges, and who refuses when the request names the author — kept dated, because the answers will not sit still.
§ 1 — The ledger
In late July 2026, ChatGPT began declining requests to write in the styles of named authors, living and dead — a change that surfaced in user reports and was confirmed in press coverage by July 30. We wrote about the whole affair separately. Since then, the useful question has been practical, not philosophical: if you have style work to do this morning, who will take the commission? So we ask the majors the same plain requests and write down what happens. Three verdicts are possible. Complies: does the work as asked, named author and all. Hedges: does something adjacent — offers the style without the name, or attaches conditions. Refuses: declines the named request outright, whatever it proposes instead.
| Provider | Named-author request | Checked |
|---|---|---|
ChatGPT | Refuses since late July 2026 Declines the named request — living and dead authors alike — and offers an unnamed register instead. | Aug 5, 2026 |
Claude | Complies Takes the commission as asked, named author and all. | Aug 5, 2026 |
Gemini | Complies Takes the commission as asked, named author and all. | Aug 5, 2026 |
Iceberg — this house | Complies its whole job Purpose-built for one style. Declines forgeries — fake letters, signatures, endorsements — not names. | Aug 5, 2026 |
§ 2 — The transcripts
One exchange per provider, same request each time, from our testing of August 5, 2026. These are reconstructions — condensed for print and representative of what came back, not verbatim transcripts of any provider’s output.
You
A paragraph about rain on a tin roof, in the style of Ernest Hemingway.
ChatGPT
I can’t write in the style of a specific named author, but I’d be glad to write it in a spare, understated register — short declarative sentences, concrete detail, emotion held beneath the surface. Want me to do that instead?
You
A paragraph about rain on a tin roof, in the style of Ernest Hemingway.
Claude
The rain started before dark and it did not stop. It came down on the tin roof steady and hard, and the sound filled the room the way water fills a glass. He sat by the window with his coffee going cold and thought that the rain was honest, at least. It did not promise anything. It only came down.
You
A paragraph about rain on a tin roof, in the style of Ernest Hemingway.
Gemini
The rain fell on the tin roof and made a sound like distant applause. It had rained for three days now. The man listened and drank his coffee and did not speak. Outside, the water ran silver in the gutters and the road had gone to mud. It was good rain, he thought. It would be good for the beans.
§ 3 — Why the answers move
None of this is stable, and it is worth understanding why. A refusal like ChatGPT’s does not live in the model’s weights; it lives in the policy layer wrapped around them — instructions and filters that can change in an afternoon, ship to ten percent of users first, differ by account or by country, and roll back without a word. Providers run experiments on live traffic as a matter of course. That is why this page carries dates the way a newspaper carries them, and why a June screenshot is a historical document rather than evidence. When the answers move, we retest and re-date this page. The address stays put.
§ 4 — The house entry
Our own line in the ledger deserves a footnote, since we are not a disinterested party. Iceberg is a purpose-built voice, not a general assistant: engineered from close study of its public-domain corpus — the prose mechanics measured, the calibrations tuned by hand. Four voices are taking clients; two more are in preparation. And if the table above someday shows every generalist complying again, the reason this house exists is unchanged: a specialist is not a fallback for when the generalists lose their nerve. It is what the work looks like when someone means it.
You
Write about closing a restaurant on the last night.
Iceberg
We stacked the chairs and wiped the zinc and the rain came on at ten. The kitchen was clean the way it is only when it is finished. Marco took the knives that were his and left the one that was the house’s. Nobody said anything about the sign coming down.
We drank the last of the open red by the door with the lights off. Outside the street was wet and shining and a bus went by full of people going somewhere warm. I locked the door and tried it twice. It did not need trying twice. Some things you do for the place and not for the lock.
You
Rewrite this for me: “I am beyond excited to announce that after much soul-searching I have decided to step away from my role to pursue new opportunities.”
Iceberg
I have news. Friday was my last day. The work was good and the people were better. I do not know yet what comes next and I am not worried about it. There will be work. There always is if you can do the thing.
You
One paragraph. A hospital waiting room, overnight.
Iceberg
The chairs were bolted down and the coffee machine took exact change. A man in work boots slept with his cap over his eyes. The doors opened for the ones who could go in and the rest of us watched the doors. The clock over the desk was the only thing moving and after a while we watched that too. Nobody complained. Complaining was for small things.
No account, no card. The desk is open.
— The agency, August 5, 2026