“So, what is your favorite book?”
I’ve always loathed that question. However, I’ve grown accustomed to hearing it often, usually during introductions, when I tell people that I am currently studying English at a graduate level. It’s certainly never asked with malice. It’s simply a polite inquiry based on the assumption that people who study English like to read. And we do. But how on earth am I to draw, from the entire, unfathomable depths of the history of the written word, one perfect archetype, without exception or explanation?
“Hard to say,” and a knowing smile, is my default answer.
Recently, however, a professor of mine posed a similar question, but with a bit of a twist. “If you could give one book to another person, as a gift,” he asked, “what would it be?” I was surprised to find that, without hesitation, the answer popped into my head.
Atlas Shrugged.
Ayn Rand’s magnum opus is still considered a classic, but it is rarely read, or even discussed in our schools. The reason being, it is not only racy and controversial, but depending on the edition, the book runs one thousand pages plus. The heft, alone, can be daunting, but the density would make it nearly impossible to cover in an entire year of classes, especially when, after 13 years of U.S. public schools, our children are lucky to leave with the literary skills to make it through If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. However, this is the first book that I would choose to give to any other person. Once that was decided, the next question was naturally, to whom I would send it. While thinking this over, it occurred to me that our president’s birthday went by, without a gift from me and, as luck would have it, he is the one person I can think of who most needs to give Atlas Shrugged a once-over.
I bought Atlas Shrugged when I was 23, knowing nothing more than the title. Not knowing what to expect, I jumped right in. It was electric, packed with action, romance, politics, philosophy, and turns of phrase that are so eloquent that you have to stop and read them out loud. It’s just one heck of a book. To make a very long story short, part adventure, part mystery, it tells the story of a society falling victim to socialism. A corrupt government steals power with the platform, “From each according to his ability, to each according to his need.” (In other words, “spread the wealth around”). Preying on the strong to feed the weak, the system naturally begins to rot and eat away at itself from the inside. Meanwhile, America’s best and brightest, the most hardworking and successful, the minds that innovate, create jobs, the people that make this country great, including Dagny Taggart, the story’s heroine, a steel-hard businesswoman that feminists ought to love, fight their victimization…until, one by one, they slowly disappear.
Already hooked, Mr. President? I’d hate to spoil the end for you. Ah, go ahead. Tear open that GOP wrapping paper and give it a read.
I’ll wait.
Okay, so here’s what happens. As the story unfolds, the reader finds that, some years before, a young, brilliant engineer, named John Gault foresaw what would happen, and enacted a plan. He pledged to stop the very motor of the earth by taking away the people that power it. Convinced that the only way to end the madness once and for all is to leave the beggars and thieves to ruin themselves, he starts a small, hidden colony in the Colorado Mountains. It takes some effort to convince the victims to leave their businesses and the industries in which they have invested so much, but, when they are ready, each of them is persuaded to let go of his life’s work for the greater good. Before they can enter the colony, they take the oath: “I swear by my life and the love of it, that I will never live for the sake of another man, nor ask another man to live for mine.” Then, they lie in wait, practice their respective crafts, and wait for the day when they can return and rebuild on the wreckage of a once great nation. Before the story has even begun, John Gault is a legend, a symbol for capitalism itself, for the private sector, where people are judged on their merit and need is not a virtue.
Atlas Shrugged was published 52 years ago, so this certainly can’t be news (Remember when socialism was a bad thing?). Yet at this point in time, when the government that brought you the efficiency of welfare now offers healthcare, when liberals in Congress have become caricatures, everyone could use a good copy of Rand’s masterpiece. Even if you don’t need the lessons within, the refreshing pragmatism and hope could do you good.
Now, the author was obviously using hyperbole to make a point, and I’m not suggesting all the sane people don their parkas and catch the first flight to Colorado.
However, it does seem like now would be a good time to stop and think, especially when John Gault has poignantly come for Sara Palin. In a system gone mad, in the world of the public sector, where quality and integrity are attacked, I cannot blame Sara Palin for stepping down. If her reasons were selfish, if she was thinking only of her own good and the good of her family…good for her. I am disappointed to see her go, but, whether or not she decides to make a bid for Commander in Chief, when and if she is ever ready, I cannot ask her to live her life for me or anyone else. However, when things seem pretty bad, it is heartening to think that there will always be people out there who earn our trust with actions we can see, rather than change that continues to become harder and harder to believe.
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