Ayn Rand and Leonard (AFT) Peikoff - Fountainhead

"The Fountainhead" is not quite as good as "Atlas Shrugged" (that is, of course, if you consider that to be good - I certainly do) but you have to look at it as a totally separate book, one that's a bit incomplete in its expression of Rand's philosophy, but one that's got a compelling plot and interesting characters, as well as a moral sense that seems bizarre and skewed at first, but that eventually becomes evident and even rational as you begin to understand more about Objectivism. It's probably not the first book by Rand you should read, because you might be turned off by some of its ideas (rape as a rational expression of love, anyone?). I'd suggest reading some of Rand's nonfiction before this, because it might actually help you to understand it better (whereas "Atlas Shrugged" should be the first book by Rand you read, so as to understand the mystery and have the challenge of solving it).

The book's plot is like a soap opera. It begins with Howard Roark, an idealistic architect, being kicked out of an institute of architecture at the same time that Peter Keating, an acquaintance, becomes valedictorian. The two move to New York, take up work in separate firms, and we see their careers begin. Roark refuses to take favors or be recommended by anybody - he goes, in fact, with an old, washed-up man who's lucky if he gets a job, whereas Keating goes with Guy Francon, and begins to cheat and exploit to get his way, constantly taking favors and sacrificing himself for useless jobs. Roark falls in love with Dominique Francon, Guy's daughter, and begins to get a few jobs, eventually building the great Stoddard Temple. And things get even better from here?I don't want to reveal what ends up happening, because it's really the kind of book you've got to read for yourself. Marriages! Explosions! Money! Melodrama! Honestly, from this short description it sounds like pulp, but it's really not once you've begun to read it.

And if you know anything about Objectivism, you'll be recognizing character types already from what I've said. In short, Howard Roark represents the ideal man, who will not sacrifice or be sacrificed. He'll never give up his vision. Peter Keating is the antithesis of Roark, a man who claws his way to the top and conforms with what society expects, even at one point stealing shreds of Roark's brilliance for his own exploiting benefit. And miscellaneous other characters - Ellsworth Toohey, Gail Wynand, Dominique Francon, and Lois Cook - represent, other Randian archetypes - respectively:

- Ellsworth Toohey - an older version of Keating, basically; a man who got to his high position in society by denying what's best in man.
- Gail Wynand - a kind of Nietszchean "ubermensch".
- Dominique Francon - basically a precursor to Dagny Taggart of "Atlas" - an ideal woman.
- Lois Cook - a parody of Gertrude Stein, Cook writes absolute nonsense that's venerated by intellectuals (and bizarrely, in one memorable scene, conspires with other "writers" to figure out who can write the worst, least comprehensible work).

Does it seem pat, or cheating, the way Rand is able to sneak people like Lois Cook and Dominique Francon into the book? In fact, these characters show what the people with whom you associate, and the art you like, say about the kind of person you are. (As Rand said, "The soul of a man who likes 'Cyrano de Bergerac' is different from the soul of a man who likes 'Waiting for Godot'.)

What interests me about this book is Rand's expression of her philosophy. Here, there's a purer (dare I say, Platonic) expression of the philosophy - Rand never comes right out and says exactly what she believes, but you can get a very clear sense from reading the book that Rand is against everything that's driving society today - the failure of greatness?religion?selflessness?pseudo-art?the veneration of stupidity and the lack of "a sense of life". These things are still very present in modern society, so much so that books like "The Fountainhead" and "Atlas Shrugged" are becoming true.

Some people have said that the book offers horrible prose, an unrealistic plot, and one-dimensional characters. The fact is that, although it does seem that way, you've got to understand the way Rand writes. She's trying to portray life on earth as being great, and she's saying that every person exemplifies a particular kind of person. In spite of what she said about her books being artistic rather than didactic, they strike me as being parables where the characters aren't really intended to be realistic. Remember, as she said, "I'm not writing about life as it is, but about life as it ought to be." And the way she's able to depict what characters believe, through the most seemingly offhand comment about them, is stunning. Consider this passage, describing Roark in the living-room of the boardinghouse he's staying at early in the book:

"She stood looking after him through the screen door, watching his gaunt figure move across the rigid neatness of her parlor. He always made her uncomfortable in the house, with a vague feeling of apprehension, as if she were waiting to see him swing out suddenly and smash her coffee tables, her Chinese vases, her framed photographs. He had never shown any inclination to do so. She kept expecting it, without knowing why."

Why? Because Roark is full of energy and life - he's a creator who wants to do great things, and constantly radiates energy. The woman senses that, but because she doesn't have a proper "sense of life", she can only consider that energy in terms of destruction. This is the kind of character development Rand has - it's not traditional, but it's exquisite and interesting in its own way.

This book may offend some people with its frank ideas and descriptions. Most infamous is the rape scene, where Rand seems to endorse what's happening (in fact, it's been taken out of context). And people may have knee-jerk reactions to the book (as somebody said when I was describing the book in class, "Selfishness is wrong! That's self-explanatory!") Rand might say that there's something in this book to offend every irrational segment of society, which I think is valid. After all, what better way to attack false beliefs than by showing the kind of people who exemplify them, and what the ultimate goals of those people are? (This emerges most in the characters of Wynand and Toohey.)

The book's ideas on art are intriguing as well. Rand's viewpoints here are basically that one should never give in; one's art should express the glory of life on earth. The villainous art critic Ellsworth Toohey's constant babbling about how art should aspire to be more than human exemplifies the point of view that Rand disagrees with. When asked to create a temple, Roark creates a shrine to life, not to some "higher realm of existence". As Toohey says, "This building is flauntingly horizontal, its belly in the mud, thus declaring its allegiance to the carnal, glorifying the gross pleasures of the flesh above those of the spirit." And Rand's brilliance is that she is able to show then what exactly happens to this beautiful building at the hands of the exploiters - it's turned into a "Home for Subnormal Children", described once again in terms that may offend ("there was a fifteen-year-old boy who had never learned to speak; a grinning child who could not be taught to read or write; a girl born without a nose, whose father was also her grandfather; a person called "Jackie" of whose age or sex nobody could be certain.") - but that brutally show the extent to which the looters of the society will go to destroy greatness.

As I was saying above, this book doesn't really come right out and express the principles of Objectivism, but they're imbued throughout it. I think Rand hadn't found her philosophical voice yet at the time of this book, but she understood completely what she wanted to say. She never comes right out and says anything about rational self-interest, or looters, or witch-doctors, but this book will definitely give a sense of the beautiful, defiant, life-giving beliefs she had, through its phrasing and exhilarating descriptions:

"Howard Roark laughed. He stood naked at the edge of a cliff. The lake lay far below him. A frozen explosion of granite burst in flight to the sky over motionless water. The water seemed immovable, the stone - flowing. The stone had the stillness of one brief moment in battle when thrust meets thrust and the currents are held in a pause more dynamic than motion. The stone glowed, wet with sunrays."

This is not the voice of a neurotic prig describing banal matters or polemicizing about man's helpless state in a nightmare universe. This is the voice of a genius singing with joy about all the possibilities of life and art. Rand offers no "realms of spiritual ecstasy reached by selflessly subordinating oneself to the group's will" - she offers nothing less than a vision of man's ultimate greatness that's expressed most poignantly in this book.