Objectivism Redux (Pardon Me: I Just Threw Up in My Mouth)

Twenty-odd years ago, I had a quintessential NYC transit experience riding on a crowded subway. I looked up from my book and saw an attractive woman a ways down the car from me who was reading the same book, same edition: the Signet paperback of Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged. Had I been bolder in my youth (as I am today... yeah, right...), I would have made my across the car and attempted to strike up a conversation with the young lady. Sadly, I was especially shy when it came to meeting women and, when her stop came, she exited without my ever speaking to her. As Mr. Bernstein says so eloquently in Citizen Kane, "I only saw her for one second. She didn't see me at all, but I'll bet a month hasn't gone by since that I haven't thought of that girl."

I say this not with regret (I couldn't ask for a better outcome in my life, romantically-speaking, as anyone who knows Catherine and me can attest) but because I was reminded of this event today when I spied this article in Locus Online. To be quite honest, I didn't actually care much for Atlas Shrugged—as a philosopher, I respectfully think that Ms. Rand is full of it; as a writer, I think The Fountainhead is a better story—but if there IS going to be an authorized sequel, I'd be interested to read it, even it is more likely literary rubbernecking.

Lessons from Lessing

I have to say that I've been inspired by the Nobel Prize for Doris Lessing. Not to win the Nobel Prize—although, of course, I'm always disappointed when the announcements come out and my name is not on the list in any category...I mean, I understand that the competition is fierce in literature and there's always the "they've-been-deserving-for-so-long-shouldn't-we-give-them-the-award-now?" syndrome. But really: I'm never nominated in any category and I felt like I had a shot in molecular biology this year.... And don't get me started on the MacArthurs!

But seriously, I read Lessing's short story To Room Nineteen when I was in high school and I was really intrigued by her writing. And that impulse used to spur me to action: I'd go out and get a bunch of the author's writings and devour them (I say used to because these days, even though I love reading and getting new books, my current stack of "I'll Get to Them Eventually" books outweighs any spur of the moment urges). For some reason, though, I never did that with Lessing. And I remember when I first moved to NYC, I lived in Queens and started buying books by The Great Authors I Never Read: Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Sinclair Lewis, Ayn Rand (loved the writing of The Fountainhead—hated the philosophy... but that's another blog...). I remember a few times thinking about Doris Lessing, but I never actually got anything.

So my inspiration is to add another book to my stack. I don't know which one it will be, but I'm going to drop by St. Marks' Books some day this week (trying not to use mega-stores these days) and see what they have. I'll keep you posted on my progress....