It's not often I do a book review on here, so I think it's about time to remedy that.
Our focus of today is Ayn Rand's 1957 American novel Atlas Shrugged. It follows the life and times of railroad owner Dagny Taggart, and her struggles against the rest of the world. She struggles because all the greatest minds and men in the business are slowly disappearing; leaving the world in turmoil and at the mercy of the "looters".
She also tries to answer the question asked in the first line of the book "Who is John Galt?" This is a mostly rhetorical question; used in answer to somebody asking an impossible question, for example:
"Why can nobody seem to come up with an easy explanation for the creation of the universe?"
"Who is John Galt?"
As she discovers, John Galt is the man who promised to stop the motor of the world, after deciding the general politics and ideologies of the world were insane; like people were only paid how they needed, not how much they earned. He also saw the the creators - the artistic, composers and thinkers - were supporting an ungrateful world on their shoulders. Galt wanted these "Atlas-es" to shrug the world off and walk away joyous men.
John Galt is also the man who supposedly found Atlantis - the legendary lost city - and sank his own boat to reach it. He's also the man who supposedly found the Fountain of Youth, and never returned when he realised he couldn't bring it back with him.
All-in-all, a pretty prolific bloke, worthy of the slang question that gets thrown about a lot until Dagny finally finds an answer to it in part 3.
That's it for the general plot line; I'm not going to spoil anything for two reasons. 1) I don't really like spoiling anything and 2) I took my own damn time reading it, so if you want to find out more, read it yourself.
Anyway, enough angry shouting at the reader. Atlas Shrugged is a rather clever political statement on Ayn Rand's part; she cleverly deals with the problem of objectivism and the flawed working world in general. All very controversial and clever and what-not.
But underlying allegories and metaphors never really interest me, mostly because I'm so damn useless at spotting them.
To me, Of Mice and Men is nothing more but a story about two unemployed blokes who get into a spot of bother on a farm. And a dog gets shot. Shows my literary knowledge in a nutshell.
So instead of sitting here, boring you to tears about Rand's extensive viewpoints and general attitude, I'm actually going to write about it from a contemporary viewpoint. How does a book written halfway through the 20th century stack up against books written in the 21st?
Well, for a start, Rand really likes to get her point across. As a Creative Writing student, we are always reminded to show-don't-tell, show-don't-tell, show-don't-tell - because it's boring and pointless. For those unaware, showing and telling in books goes like this:
- Telling: Fred dropped a glass and was sad about it because it meant he had to clean up the mess.
- Showing: The glass slipped from Fred's hand and smashed on the floor. With a weary sigh, he went to collect a dustpan and brush. With a thump, he dropped himself onto the floor and started sweeping.
(Okay, not my best work but you see the point)
The problem is, Rand is CONSTANTLY going for the 'Telling' style of writing. We are constantly being told what the character in question is doing, feeling, thinking, feeling-about-what-they're-thinking, what they're seeing, what they're imagining they're seeing...and on and on and on. I get the point, Rand! Dagny's railroad is failing so she feels sad about it and looks off into the distance In one line, I have summarised what it took you twenty lines to do.
It is an incredibly wordy book, exhaustively so. Something would happen, you'd turn a page and your peripherals would catch an explanation spanning across the two pages. I sigh, and just get on with it. And even if I didn't understand what had happened, she'd normally explain it all in the next chapter. Over about three pages. Joy.
Dialogue is a problem as well. When Rand wants a character to give an uplifting speech about how man does not have to be so restricted and confined, they won't just have a few paragraphs to themselves. In early chapters, some speeches would last around five pages. Now, after a lifetime of reading modern books, that was a challenge enough. Even Dumbledore doesn't want to talk for a full five pages without any interruption from another character.
But then, in the final part of this 1168-page-long essay, John Galt gets a speech over a hacked radio frequency to tell the world what's wrong with its leaders and therefore wrong with every person in the country. And how long would you expect this politic-bashing speech to last? 10 pages? 15? Stretch to 20? No.
60.
60 PAGES OF THE SAME PERSON TALKING CONTINUOUSLY.
I mean, my god. People back in 1957 must have been bored out of their skulls to want to read one character's voice for that long - with a fair amount of repetition I might add. Besides maybe Sherlock Holmes, and that too is very different compared to books of today, I have never read a character's speech for maybe more than a page. Two at the very maximum. You just get bored with what they have to say.
I got to about 10 pages in and was like "he's been speaking for 10 pages. 10!"
Now, I'm not one to cheat with books, I like to get through it properly. But I was at 1019 pages, my eyes were tired, I knew I was near the end of a challenge I'd been reading since JANUARY. So I had a quick flick forward. 1029, still talking. 1039, 1049, still going. Still going...up til 1069, where he finally shuts up, and the chapter ends.
And then, AND THEN, Rand basically summaries the entire 60-page ramble in the following chapter. Which, for once, was actually rather useful since I'd cut out about 50 pages. For a good reason, I'd say. No-one should talk for that long.
I suppose many of you at this point - if anyone's still here that is - are wondering why exactly I decided to read this monster, and carry on reading until the end once I'd found out its true worth. Well, my little followers, my answer are threefold:
1. I do love a challenge, and I have told myself that I would never stop reading a book that I meant to read. If someone gave me a random book and I didn't like it, I'd stop. But I wanted to read Atlas Shrugged, because of reason number 2.
2. The book inspired one of my favourite video games, BioShock. When I found that out, I just had to read the book that made such a great game. I also wanted to draw parallels between characters in the book to the game; as well as ideologies and stuff like that. Which I did, for a while - but after I started to get bored, I really was reading it for the sake of reasons 1 and 3.
3. I wanted to know who John Galt actually was. I do love a riddle, and I love a good quote/question. This was a simple four-word one which you could scrawl or say anywhere to confuse people. The answer I eventually got was worth it, I think. Just not worth his 60 PAGE RANT.
Sorry. I'll get over it at some point, I promise.
That's it really. I feel I could go on, but that would just bore both you and myself to be honest. But I can learn something from all this. I have learnt just how literature has progressed in just over fifty years, and from that, I can now use Atlas Shrugged as a kind of makeshift handbook on what to avoid when I'm writing.
Which is kind of stupid reason to hang onto a book that wasn't properly enjoyed for the right reasons, but I want something to show for my 1168 pages of effort.
And that's what I now have; a big doorstop and this blog. Sorry it's not better news, Rand.
