Culpability, Deferred
Culpability by Bruce Holsinger is about a family unraveling in the aftermath of a tragedy involving an autonomous car and a privileged teenager. That story in itself is perhaps not new: ‘privileged kid with promising future kills a person while drunk driving or texting, escapes consequences’ is something I’ve seen one too many times in global headlines. But the way this story is told is unique. We start the story in the car minutes before the accident occurs, through the father’s eyes. He’s in the passenger seat, while the rest of the family, siblings Alice and Isabel, and the mother are in the backseat. The accident happens and then we are in the aftermath.
The aftermath unfolds with interludes of transcripts between Alice (angsty middle child) and an AI chatbot as well as excerpts from the mother, Lorelai’s, book on AI ethics. Together, these layers build a story of how responsibility can be displaced emotionally, legally, and morally, and how technology can act as a convenient shield.
The novel brings up a lot of very current issues and questions. Unsurprisingly, the principal question it asks is, who is culpable when AI is involved? This is something many people are grappling with in various different professions and Lorelai’s book on AI ethics adds this texture to the story, offering an intellectual counterpoint to the emotions the family is grappling with in the aftermath of the tragedy. The excerpts represent a huge part of the conversation around AI ethics that we’re having now as a society and Lorelai represents who has the privilege to even participate and have their voice heard in these discussions. Her family, presented as a very successful Ivy League dynastic family, is consistently contrasted with the narrator’s own background and credentials, and he’s a lawyer. This part of the story is mostly important because it situates the narrator’s position as a father, as a husband, and as a man, which is refreshing to read. He isn’t playing these roles as he is expected to. The fact that he doesn’t bend to societal expectations of masculinity does lead to inner questioning, especially when contrasted to other more traditionally male characters. In this way I found it very striking how Holsinger developed the narrator through situations and relationships so that he’s multi-dimensional and human. The family is also very human. Alice and the AI chatbot conversations are a chilling example of a parasocial relationship in action and the repercussions when it comes to the law. Some of those excerpts are downright spooky.
The other character in this story whom I found very interesting was the detective. She annoyed our dear narrator and subsequently annoyed me as the reader, but her point of view in terms of AI accountability and justice is particularly relevant. I appreciated how direct it was: when accountability is distributed everywhere, it often belongs to no one and justice can be evaded if not passed on to an entity that will not feel it.
The teenage boy directly involved in the car accident, Charlie, is also written in a way that complicates easy judgment. We’re encouraged to empathise with him. He’s not a reckless drunk driver or texter; he’s wracked with guilt, and his parents want to protect him. And yet, he is still a privileged teenager whose actions result in irreparable harm.
Daniel Monet, an Elon-Musk-type character, was a difficult character to read for me, but his presence does succeed in conveying what it might feel like to orbit this kind of tech billionaire. The helicopters, the ego, the cult-like following, and most importantly the power to inflict justice and to avoid it when convenient. It made me think about how proximity to that power affects one’s own moral compass and I’m still ruminating. While there are so many upsides to having access and running through life without consequences, a sustained youthful abandon, it’s also grossly unjust to a point I struggle to even articulate. And these days, we’re seeing that kind of flagrant impunity in action everywhere we look.
Culpability is ultimately a meditation on responsibility in the age of AI. Each character feels at fault in some way, but because of their power or proximity to power, they can get away with it. The tech billionaire deflects blame entirely, reinforcing the idea that wealth insulates against consequence. Even when accountability appears to surface, it’s partial and uneven.
The book raises urgent questions about AI as a loophole in the justice system and how it can be a way for humans to outsource guilt and responsibility. The inclusion of drones and defensive (read: offensive) AI applications in the final chapters is especially harrowing and though it’s not discussed, it emphasises the scale of harm that AI and those who build and use these technologies can cause (read: are causing). Overall, Culpability succeeds in making the reader think deeply about ethics, power, and the stories we tell ourselves to avoid blame.
Final Rating: 4/5