I Read This Once: Atlas Shrugged

It is an exhilarating feeling to be about one-third of the way through a Good Book. I'm not talking about an explosive first chapter or captivating "hook" concept; no, I mean that point when you've read enough to know that this author is in complete command of his or her work and you still have so much left to enjoy. It's not really a common sensation. I remember it with Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment, for example. But it happened again with Atlas Shrugged--until the book shot itself in the foot in a rather remarkable way. Let's discuss.

I went into this book with no knowledge of Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged, or any of the political or intellectual background that accompanied them. It soon became evident, of course, that Rand had some political opinions that colored her writing, but that's true of all of us, and it didn't negatively affect the book. The first two "books"--what are those called? sub-books? anyway, the book AS, totaling eleven hundred pages, is divided into three roughly equal sections, or "books"--were uniquely engaging and compelling. Rand's characters are exquisitely developed; larger than life, and yet relatable.

Usually, we think of artists and authors as a little bit set apart from the daily drudgeries of politics and personal agenda. And that's a little bit naive, I know, but what I'm saying is that when writing a novel, all of that takes a back seat to the Story. Of course our worldview colors our reading and our writing, but we as readers are willing to look past some personal bias in order to appreciate the Story as its own coherent whole. I soon suspected from even the first few chapters that Ayn Rand is an ardent defender of the free market, but that doesn't change the fact that her writing defends and glorifies it in a way that few others are capable of. Ideological agenda set aside, Atlas Shrugged is a uniquely compelling and enjoyable read.

The first two-thirds of it are, anyway. Then, like a horse to an unsuspecting toddler, the book kicks you, the reader, violently in the head. The first clue comes at the beginning of book three, when Dagny discovers all the previously-missing great men and women of the day in a hidden mountain utopia, where they form a secluded community, free of most laws and reliant on the others' good-will and cooperation for success.

It's at this point where you see Rand's (and the book's) true colors. Against my will, I now know that Rand believed (nay, developed) a philosophy known as objectivism: so named for its belief in objective reality, along with a high view of human achievement. I know this because the alleged "hero" of the book, John Galt, expounded upon it for sixty uninterrupted pages. Rand's story tramples intentionally any thought of treating itself as a mere story; in the final act, the medium is bent to better propound Rand's beliefs.

Ironically, I believe, it fails to do so. For years I have noticed that, unavoidably, (and this concerns all media; books, movies, songs, comedy, and all the like), the more the author bends reality to fit their agenda, the weaker the message will necessarily be. There has to be an understanding in common for a message to succeed. For the first part of the book, that message is very strong. We relate to the characters, and the situations they are in. We "see ourselves" in them and their actions, or at least can understand them. But in the finale, that all changes. For John Galt is not a hero. His actions are cold and self-interested. Dagny and Hank's reactions to him feel disingenous, and, in a word, unrealistic. The two main sections of the book in which he is a prominent character ("Galt's Gulch", and the radio speech) are certainly the weakest portions of the book. And it's the reason this book runs so sharply off the rails. The reader isn't fooled. We know better. We can see where a formerly mesmeric novel morphs into inane philosophic babble.

This all is upheld by the book's reputation. Atlas Shrugged is known as Rand's magnum opus, and for good reason. The talent Rand writes with is undeniable. But it also contributes to her reputation as an odd loner in the philosophical field. Rand certainly wasn't helping herself when she, in the voice of Galt during his sixty-page monologue, took clear shots at nearly every other vein of philosophy, including standard liberalism/progressivism, Christianity and religion, and libertarianism. You're really not asking to make friends when you do that, but maybe she figured no one would actually read all sixty pages. Rand's philosophy, at its crux, presents an unusual contradiction: she extols the greatness of man and human achievement, rejecting religion as a source of morality or knowledge, but rejects the typical progressive ideals of improving or bettering society. It's man's individual achievements that are so admirable to Rand. And while she paints this as some glorious celebration of human accomplishment and victory through reason, it seems to end up a rather bleak image of man's self-centeredness.

As I close, I should reiterate that this book is still very good, as far as skill of writing and narrative-crafting is concerned. It was an enjoyable read, and it is a book worth reading. There is a reason it is so well-known and has survived this long.

4/5. Good book with a fatal flaw.