Rand's "Objectivism"

Ayn Rand's collective philosophy is called Objectivism.

Its ideals include the necessity of Capitalism for a functioning society, check this link for a well-rounded summary.

The Fountainhead was the starting point of what will become a thorough foray into Rand's works. Her hero, Howard Roark, embodies the beauty of independence and unencumbered creativity, yet lacks social grace and stability in the sense of wealth, home, companionship. His life is one lived for the gratification of his creative potential. In a sense, Rand paints him to be the only character in the Fountainhead who is wholly good.

The other characters lives are completely entrenched in the mire of society. Even Roark's love interest, Dominique, lives interconnected to the world, though she takes an oppositional stance. I found myself identifying with Dominique well early in the novel - a woman who valued intelligence and was intimidated by none, a journalist to boot. As she battles throughout the acts, her inability to embrace happiness and her ceaseless pursuit of deep, complex conflict exhausted me. Worse, it was almost boring... except it was Dominique, and she was a stunning character.

Some of the best and most diabolical traits of humanity are powerfully illustrated in Rand's character development. Having seen it splashed into being on the pages, I feel as if some things within me are being sifted and filtered, that I've been given a chance to view life through a perspective I could have missed had I chosen another novel.

During a writers group meeting this weekend, I was speaking with some friends about the novel, noting my attachment to some of the ideals of Objectivism. One friend mentioned that she had been into it upon her first encounter, but she had a disabled son down the road, and the cut-throat, elitist values of Objectivism seemed to become null.

For an objectivist society to function as a whole, without large portions dying off from starvation or abuse, everyone would have to be perfect. In a way, this makes sense - in the dry, scientific outlook of survival of the fittest. The concept of "brother's keeper" does not apply. There is no care, except for oneself. Rand paints humanitarianism and altruism as being weak and debilitating to the individual and society.

What if altruism is sincere? What about when someone, such as her Gail Wynand, has climbed to the top of the capitalist's ladder, and has resources that even when squandered in glorifying his name, will not be exhausted? Is it so much that he give back to the society that offered him the liberty and opportunity to accumulate wealth in the first place?

I really don't know. But I love Rand's writing style, and already bought the next book in the lineup. I need to go do grad school one day, so I can get paid for this. (So says my genius PhD candidate friend, who spends her days making money doing exactly what she wants... living the dream.)

-JH

Genre Exception

I am going to review a song, definitely not literature or even close to fine art, but I heard it on the radio today.

Beyonce Knowles - "Irreplaceable"

"To the left to the left" - Beyonce's honey sweet voicing the catchy intro, inspiring the instinct to dance boppy-like at a stoplight.

She goes on to wail that her man must not know about her, no, he must not know about her. She could have another him in a minute, in a matter of fact, he'll be here in a minute. Baby.

The clutch line:
"Don't ever for a second get to thinkin' that you're irreplaceable."

So powerful, right?
No.

Stunning that empowerment goes under the guise of meaning that people are replaceable, that at a moment's notice, the current flame can get canned with no second thought.

Not only does the replaceable nature of the said dude reflect poor taste and bad judgement on the protagonists part, but the fact that she will have the next prospect lined up and present in a minute is just weak.

Seriously, you can't be alone for a minute? Is that why you settle for replaceable, easy companionship? Is it 'cool' to burn through other humans?

I think of this story about a guy I knew once, who was floating down a river with a huge boulder right smack in the middle of it. Say that boulder represented the shitbag, cheat-tastic kind of guy Beyonce's protagonist just dumped. You could see it coming, if you used your senses. Averting contact seems like the best step. Or, smack right into it, scurry over the other side, and brag about it...

I don't think I needed to announce to the world that this song sucks, it definitely does the job just fine without my sentiment. But just in case anyone was bopping to the beat in the car after a breakup, it might be worth recognizing that this song is degrading and pathetic.

Enter: Ayn Rand

I've found it.

I approached this blog from the wrong perspective initially - while I think there was something noble in my intention to refine my feelings for Krakauer's writing, that endeavor panned out differently than planned.

I will write a review of Under the Banner of Heaven someday, because I said I would. But it suffices to say that Krakauer's works were so interesting to me that I promptly dropped the project and didn't return to the blog that hosted it for four months. His approach to a sensitive area of human emotion - conviction - was not without potent lacing of his own convictions, in a manner meant to lead the reader along in agreement, which was clarified at the very end of the story. Krakauer believes in something, it's just something vague that he can't quite identify. Good on ya, bro. And good for everyone else who names their passions, who dedicates themselves to a cause that helps, not harms, the lives of their fellow men. It exists, within and without the confines of religion. And of course, across the canvas of humanity everywhere, there are whack-ass crackers aplenty. Interesting enough to write about, but the story would have been as easily told from surfing news clips, and I feel I would have gained as much from a google search.

Great stories, truly ravishing plot lines, the stuff that changes the atmosphere of the room it's being devoured within... now that sort of writing I feel inclined to review.

My passion for literature has fallen into the cracks and between the dry sheets of textbooks since I've been back to school. The zapped emotion for the written word has been set afire by a stunning gem of literary GENIUS I've encountered recently - the works of Ayn Rand.

I have become so deeply engrossed in The Fountainhead, even in the first hundred pages, that I have lost my appetite, sense of time, social obligation, awareness of anything outside of the gentle caress of potent words and the unfolding of a story I feel I belong to.

Ayn Rand is a favorite of my maternal grandmother. I have a theory blooming about the formation of paradigms within a family having a direct correlation to the literature consumed within the family - something in Rand's writing is familiar to me, common threads I identify and know in Rand's characters - speech patterns and behavior that I knew even before I could speak.

I'm going back to reading now.