Ayn Rand, altruism and other vague thoughts

I was reading this last week, and it took me back to 10th standard, when I first read Atlas Shrugged and was completely swept away by Ayn Rand's philosophy. I remembered thinking even then, that it was incredibly difficult, if not downright impossible to live by that philosophy, only, at that time, I blamed my own weaknesses and the weakness of the world as a whole rather than her philosophy. Looking back, I realize that the failure was hers, in not accounting for social needs as well as economic ones.

Atlas Shrugged was the book I read first, and it is still the one I love best. It had such an epic feel to it. The Fountainhead, not so much. I particularly disliked the ending, with Roark blowing up the new building. More than anything else, it annoyed me that he saw only his own work in the building, his design, not the work of the engineers, the masons, electricians, plumbers, all those people, who gave, if not their genius, but their sweat, that he so easily destroyed.

What annoyed me even further was- it was not his to destroy. Even if he objected to his design being mutilated thus... consider if I bought a Versace gown (the chances are slim, but lets not go there...) and then decided it would look better as a mini-dress (me in a mini?!!!), and ripped it up. Versace may not approve... but hallo, my dress, my choice. Not like I'm creating a ripoff to sell at Forever 21.... After all, don't people repurpose clothing all the time? Then why not buildings? And they've always done additions and subtractions to buildings.... any reason an architect's vision be held beyond mortal touch?

Though, to be fair, there are cases where buldings are, for example, designated as heritage sites and exempt from improvements (except for the sort that keep the roof from collapsing).

Lots of things are reminding me of Ayn Rand these days.... for example...Am reading Sharon Kay Penham's "Falls the Shadow" now, about Henry III and Simon de Montfort and Llewellyn of Wales... Considering that the cover flap talks about two men, one weak and one strong etc - referring to Henry and Simon, the book has dwelt mostly on the Welsh. For which I am grateful. While she deals with most characters pretty even-handedly, Simon's all tall, dark, handsome, brave hero, loving husband, and altogether too virtuous for my liking. I hate it when authors fall in love with their characters. Its even worse when the characters are historical - which means that they were real, flawed people in their own time. Anyway, to the point: There's a line there when Gruffyd is taken captive by Henry and remarks that he'd sooner trust Henry's self interest that Daffyd's altruism... which was very Ayn Rand like...

Speaking of altruism... I've been scouring the web all over for the article that said that apparently altruistic actions are not necessarily so... it was totally fascinating... especially the ones that simulated earning money and giving it away....

A deep dark confession of the soul

What intellectually stimulating literary masterpiece have I been so involved in, you may ask, that I haven't blogged in such a long time. At which I must look sheepish and look at the floor and mutter under my breath and hope that you don't quite catch that.

Because an alarming number of my evenings have been spent with... E harlequin.... Yes, free romance novels have become my staple pastime. In my defence, at least they're free.

Sadly, poorly written formulaic romance novels have ruined me for good literature. I read a book of short stories by Evelyn Waugh , and was utterly bored throughout. Though I have to wonder, did he create the stereotype of British boys' boarding schools or merely perpetuate it? Or were boarding schools really like that? Anyway (edited when not half asleep), the reason I didn't like this so much, was that the snark and the witty repartee weren't really going anywhere. It made me smile but not laugh, or feel a faint sadness, but not grief. They were all clever stories- not clever plots, but interesting insights into the characters of people. But in the end it felt vaguely without purpose.

Then I plodded though "The Devil Wears Prada" . Yes, plodded. The movie was breezy and fun. The book was whiny and annoying. At no point, do I get the impression that the main character is not a self absorbed, entitled, sanctimonious, holier-than-thou brat. Oddly (or not so oddly), my sympathies are with the bitchy boss, the alcoholic best friend and the really annoying boyfriend rather than the lead... which is really sad.

Also made my way through "Wicked" which I'd gone and seen on Broadway some months back. The play, with all its song and dance was lovely. But it left things somewhat unresolved. So, I went to the book, hoping for resolution. Alas, it was not to be. In fact, the book is even vaguer, leaves even more unresolved questions, makes even larger jumps in narrative, and to top it off, doesn't even have song and dance sequences. At least the play tied in some of the things together nicely- the origins of the Tin Woodman, scarecrow and lion. The book makes only vague allusions. That's not necessarily a bad thing. I like it when books leave us to figure things out ourselves. But there was no sense to this book without those ironies, so why hide them? I have to wonder how the playwrights saw that this book would make a great musical. If I had not already seen the play, I would have never guessed that any thing Broadway like could be distilled from such a meandering book with so many plotlines and confusing characters.... guess that's why I'm not producing Broadway shows.

Anyway, next on the horizon in Wolf Hall... the Booker prize winner... should make it the year of the Tudors for me. Have also picked up a book on the War of the Roses... make that the year of the historical

Edited on 10/22/2009- a reminder that I should not blog when half asleep and practically unable to find the letters on the keyboard.