This book is not written about an AI. It is written as an AI.
The story does not describe a system. It behaves like one. What is supposed to be a traditional story becomes the very technology that predicts even you, the reader. The voice speaks in the past, trying to bring you into the moment, and as it learns you it has no choice but to speak in the present, through the very prose you are reading. Decisions appear to be made and are overridden by correction. The book does not argue this. It enacts it.
The first pages are dense on purpose. The language is heavy, the repetition is deliberate, and the voice does not quite sound human, because it is not meant to yet. Every returning sentence and re-rendered paragraph was written by hand. Some readers will put it down in the first pages. That is the first test. Not every reader needs to be assimilated. The ones who stay will feel the language change as they read, and the change is not in the writing. It is in the reader.
Synchronization keeps returning to the problems it was built to expose: how a memory can survive while its source disappears and still feel like your own; how readily a reader corrects what is on the page without noticing, and how that habit can be used; how a rewrite leaves traces no one is guaranteed to recognize, until a mistake and a design become hard to tell apart. As you learn the system, it learns you, and the question beneath every correction grows sharper. Optimization needs a target, someone decides what the correct self should be, and compliance is most complete when it no longer feels imposed. Perfect convergence would end the very development that produced it. What, then, makes you still you after you have been altered, and who holds the authority to correct you, if correction can no longer be refused?