Miss Translation is a semi-regular column about translation. Read the first installment here . In a 250-word takedown sent to me over text, the brain trust of my father and Anthropic LLM Claude (which was, incidentally, trained not only on my father’s critical tendencies but also on my stolen work ) described my first column as “name-droppy and insecure,” “passive-aggressive about academia,” and “somewhat pretentious despite the anti-pretension pose.” “For someone claiming to be unpretentious,” Claude/my father declared (and where did I claim to be unpretentious?), “she casually drops terms like ‘metafictional dimension,’ ‘political imaginary,’ and ‘autofiction’ without explanation. The folksy tone masks what’s still pretty insider-y literary discourse.” Got my ass, Claude-father. Mask off. Thank you for doing your part in advancing humanity.  The rest of you were really nice. The nicest of you sent solutions to the first puzzle.…