Ayn Rand

A week ago I began reading Atlas Shrugged, written by the late Ayn Rand. It is considered one of the most influential books in America--and for that I am sad.

For those of you who do know of Ayn Rand (Pronounced INE), here's a quick biography: Rand was born Alisa Rosenbaum 1905 in Russia. Her parents were Jewish. Rand's family life was severely disrupted by the Bolshevik Revolution in 1917. Eventually she gained a visa to visit the United States and was amazed by our open and free society; she knew she would not go back to Russia. She married actor Frank O'Connor and they remained married for 50 years. As an American citizen, she wrote several novels, the two most well-known being The Fountainhead and her Magnum Opus--Atlas Shrugged.

Rand was an empiricist. That is, if she could not directly see, touch or hear something--or use any of her senses, to her, such a thing could not exist. This way of thinking she is said to have gained from Aristotle, her favorite philosopher.

Eventually, Rand developed her own belief system, which she termed, Objectivism. She was a very strong anti-communist and a staunch advocate of capitalism. She also loved America.

But I must split with Rand, when her Nietzschean beliefs creep out--and believe me, they do quite often.

First--she hated religion of any type, believing it to be irrational. Secondly, she had the bizarre idea that altruism (the helping of others at the expense of self) was wrong in all instances. Now, I can appreciate wanting people to be the best they can and help themselves when they're able, but the idea that it's immoral to at all disadvantage yourself by helping others, is aberrant. I reject it.

Her awful ideology of selfishness is so pervasive in her novels, that reading them makes me feel physically ill. Now granted, for some reason, ever since I was a child, reading certain pieces seemed to effect me more than other people. Maybe this is why I picked up writing. But I can read Nietzsche and sometimes come away with a good feeling--I don't get that with Rand. 50 or so pages into Atlas Shrugged, I was ready to light the book on fire. And the plot is interesting! But sick.

I'll even go as far as to say that Ayn Rand was a genius, but genius is no prophylactic to bad ideas, nor to the severe unhappiness, which I believe that Rand must have suffered from.