What is it about Atlas Shrugged that makes it so popular? Why has Ayn Rand’s dense, hard-to-read, and way-too-long novel sold over seven million copies and inspired such a loyal, even fanatical following?
I was asking myself these questions last week as I finished rereading the novel for the first time in 46 years. I wrote a retrospective review of Atlas Shrugged, which appears in Sunday’s edition of the webzine American Thinker, and I gave the book low marks, both as literature and philosophy. Such were not my views the first time I read it, and such obviously are not the views of most of those who have commented on my review.
What captivated me most about Atlas Shrugged the first time I read it was how different it was from what the culture was offering. Rand actually viewed businesspeople who were out to make a profit as the good guys! Up to that time, the only work of fiction I had read in which businessmen were treated sympathetically was Sloan Wilson’s novel, The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit, which gives us a glimpse of the huge personal price that is often exacted from those who build great business enterprises. In Atlas Shrugged Rand does more than just treat businesspeople sympathetically: she exalts them as heroes and presents them as innovators who are as brilliant and creative as the writers, artists and intellectuals who despise them even while depending on them for their livelihoods.
Another thing I liked about Atlas Shrugged was the way Rand skewered those collectivist clichés I had been hearing all my life and that people seem to regard as almost self-evident. It was hard to take them seriously after they came out of the mouths of ridiculous people like James Taggart, Orren Boyle and Philip Rearden.
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There’s hardly anything I like about the Left. Their economic views are naive in the extreme, their political views are statist, their attitude is elitist and arrogant, their books are boring, and, to be blunt — if politically incorrect — I don’t find their women very attractive. In short, they suck. But there’s one area where they’ve always had it all over the Right: their music.
Back in the 1960s I knew more than a few conservatives and libertarians — and even some students of Objectivism (the term followers of the novelist Ayn Rand used to describe themselves) — who attended civil rights demonstrations and antiwar rallies just for the music. And what music! You might get to hear superstars like Harry Belafonte, Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Phil Ochs, Peter, Paul and Mary, or, in the later part of the decade, rock groups like Jefferson Airplane or Crosby, Stills and Nash — and all for free!
Some of the protest songs of the era became megahits on the mainstream charts. The most memorable of these were songs by Bob Dylan, although what charted were usually other artists’ covers of Dylan’s songs — Dylan’s nasal, almost whiny voice did not hold much appeal for mass audiences.
In contrast, the music of the Right — well, there wasn’t any that I can recall. (Yes, I remember Staff Sgt. Barry Sadler’s “Ballad of the Green Berets”; as I said, there wasn’t any music that I can recall!). If you went to a conservative rally, if there was any music at all it was usually something like “God Bless America” (not, I hasten to add, that there’s anything wrong with that). The songs performed by any folk musicians or rock bands that appeared consisted mostly of parodies of the Left’s most popular protest songs. Read more »
I like thrillers, especially thrillers with conspiracy themes. When I read one, I usually do it in one sitting, taking a break only to go to the bathroom or fix myself another cup of coffee.
It doesn’t matter if I believe in the conspiracy or not. A good fiction writer can persuade me to temporarily suspend disbelief and draw me into his story. For example, I knew the conspiracy at the heart of Dan Brown’s The da Vinci Code was a crock and the “history” it presented as evidence was distorted, but it didn’t stop me from enjoying the novel.
On the other hand, a novel based on a plausible conspiracy supported by actual history can, nevertheless, be a bore. Glenn Beck’s new thriller, The Overton Window, isn’t a bore, but it didn’t pass my one-sitting test, either. (True, I had a lot of other things to do yesterday, when I sat down to read it. But if a novel is truly gripping, I’ll put off everything — including eating — in order to finish it. As it happened, I didn’t finish it until this morning.)
Don’t get me wrong. It’s still an enjoyable read, but it doesn’t come up to the level of a Dan Brown or Michael Crichton thriller. Read more »
Okay, I admit it. I was hooked on Lost.
Last night ABC aired the final episode in the series about the survivors of an airplane crash on a mysterious island in the South Pacific. All season long the teasers had been telling us that we would finally get the answers we’ve been waiting for. What I got out of it was more questions.
My biggest question is, just what the hell is the “flash sideways”? At the end of Season 5/beginning of Season 6, Juliet gets sucked into the pit at the Swan Station where Jack had dropped the hydrogen bomb. The bomb had failed to detonate, so Juliet, with her last ounce of strength, bangs on it with a rock until it explodes. The next scene we see is Jack back on Oceanic 815. The plane hits some turbulence, just like it did in the pilot episode six years ago, but this time it stays in the air. Jack goes to the restroom and, when he comes back, Desmond is sitting in the seat next to him, which is strange, since he was not on the original Flight 815. The camera then pans down from the plane and we see that the island is underwater. Read more »
