The policy of OL is to present the truth as it is, neither sanitized nor distorted. That especially applies to Ayn Rand's history as our members remember her. Still, many of the memories are mixed with controversies, thus charming and admirable aspects of what they saw in Rand do not get emphasized in the telling.
The purpose of this thread is for those of you who knew Rand, or saw her or heard her in recordings, to give your favorable impressions of her. I'm not aiming at censorship or sycophancy here - merely a place where things like her kindness, intelligence, humor and so forth can be specifically expressed.
Michael
Full Version: Remembering good things about Ayn Rand
This is sort of fudging, but to get the ball rolling, here is a quote from The Passion of Ayn Rand by Barbara Branden:
I might add other excerpts from PAR or Nathaniel's works as time goes along.
Michael
QUOTE
While Ayn never believed that charity was a moral virtue or requirement, and did not give money to organized charities, she occasionally was financially helpful to people in whom she saw ability. In later years, she gave gifts of money, informal scholarships, to young people who could not otherwise complete their educations and in whom she saw intelligence and promise.
I might add other excerpts from PAR or Nathaniel's works as time goes along.
Michael
Here is another excerpt from PAR. In 1981, after an estrangement of 13 years, Barbara visited Ayn Rand. The excerpt is about part of their visit.
Michael
QUOTE
Ayn's face and body relaxed. She smiled at me warmly as she said, "Now tell me all about the last thirteen years." I began speaking about my life, and she told me of hers.
In the hours of that golden afternoon, as the light from the window softened the stern planes of her face, Ayn spoke of Frank with love and longing and despair. "After he died," she said, "I couldn't write at all, not for a long time, I wasn't motivated to do anything . . . Then I realized that I needed to do something that would be only for my own personal pleasure, something purposeful that I would do only because I enjoyed it. So I began taking lessons in mathematics. I have a private tutor who comes once a week and teaches me algebra. It's wonderful! He can't believe how quickly I'm learning—he said he's never seen anyone move so swiftly. And it leads me in fascinating philosophical directions—there are so many intriguing connections between algebra and philosophy."
I listened to her, astounded, as she always had the power to astound me. At the age of seventy-six, her concept of personal pleasure, of an exciting new activity, was to study algebra and define its relationship to metaphysics and epistemology.
She spoke of politics—she disapproved of Ronald Reagan, whom she considered a typical conservative in his attempt to link politics and religion; she had refused to vote for him. She spoke of the activities she was engaged in and the work she was doing. She told me whom she saw and whom she no longer saw, and we gossiped cheerfully about old friends. We talked politics and philosophy and aesthetics—and it was not 1981, it was 1950, we were young and the world was young, and the glow of ideas outshone the sun.
When I rose to leave long after dusk—we would see each other again, we agreed, on my next visit to New York—we were both solemn, wondering when our next meeting would be . . . or if it would be. At the door, she blew me a final kiss, as she used to do when we parted, and I blew her a kiss in return. It was the last time I ever saw Ayn Rand.
In the hours of that golden afternoon, as the light from the window softened the stern planes of her face, Ayn spoke of Frank with love and longing and despair. "After he died," she said, "I couldn't write at all, not for a long time, I wasn't motivated to do anything . . . Then I realized that I needed to do something that would be only for my own personal pleasure, something purposeful that I would do only because I enjoyed it. So I began taking lessons in mathematics. I have a private tutor who comes once a week and teaches me algebra. It's wonderful! He can't believe how quickly I'm learning—he said he's never seen anyone move so swiftly. And it leads me in fascinating philosophical directions—there are so many intriguing connections between algebra and philosophy."
I listened to her, astounded, as she always had the power to astound me. At the age of seventy-six, her concept of personal pleasure, of an exciting new activity, was to study algebra and define its relationship to metaphysics and epistemology.
She spoke of politics—she disapproved of Ronald Reagan, whom she considered a typical conservative in his attempt to link politics and religion; she had refused to vote for him. She spoke of the activities she was engaged in and the work she was doing. She told me whom she saw and whom she no longer saw, and we gossiped cheerfully about old friends. We talked politics and philosophy and aesthetics—and it was not 1981, it was 1950, we were young and the world was young, and the glow of ideas outshone the sun.
When I rose to leave long after dusk—we would see each other again, we agreed, on my next visit to New York—we were both solemn, wondering when our next meeting would be . . . or if it would be. At the door, she blew me a final kiss, as she used to do when we parted, and I blew her a kiss in return. It was the last time I ever saw Ayn Rand.
Michael
Mike, those quotes were wonderful: I wonder if describing the first time I read 'The Fountainhead' would count as a good memory of Ayn Rand, even though I never met her? I worked in the library as an aide in the private school I attended in the 11th grade, and asked the librarian if she knew any good books I could read; she said that she didn't much care for one, but that I would like it: 'The Fountainhead' by Ayn Rand. I took it home with me, and was fully absorbed within one page; then I stayed up all night finishing it around 4 am. slept some, then got up and went to school. Nothing that has happened since then has been able to take back that experience for me. Hope that this doesn't sound like it is 'all about me', I just think that for a lot of her readers it was the same amazing experience as mine.
David
David
QUOTE(Michael Stuart Kelly)
Here is another excerpt from PAR.
So why do people have a problem with BB telling of her experience? This is a beautiful passage, and I hope more of this stuff shows up.
Ayn Rand's affair with Nathaniel Branden has been talked about so much recently in an environment of moral condemnation that you get the impression that Rand was an emotional cripple and a mediocre bed-partner at best. I especially do not like the way words like "sexuality" get sanitized in these discussions. So let's look at the woman through the eyes of the man who was there.
Here is a wonderful passage on Rand's sexuality from Judgement Day (pp. 220-221). If you can transport yourself inside your mind back to a time way before the break, before NBI and near the end of the writing of Atlas Shrugged, you can get a feel of the grandeur of what they were doing and why they were doing it. These are magnificent words about a magnificent experience and a magnificent couple.
This is an homage Rand richly deserves. When we look at her love life in homage, the triumph is what matters, not the defeat. We can see in this small passage why Nathaniel and Ayn were in love and feel some of the excitement.
Michael
Here is a wonderful passage on Rand's sexuality from Judgement Day (pp. 220-221). If you can transport yourself inside your mind back to a time way before the break, before NBI and near the end of the writing of Atlas Shrugged, you can get a feel of the grandeur of what they were doing and why they were doing it. These are magnificent words about a magnificent experience and a magnificent couple.
QUOTE
Our discussion of Atlas had drawn us into our own world, as it always did. As we walked back to the apartment, I told Ayn I was impatient to make love. Looking around as if committing a daring act, she pulled my arms around her body. Once, inside, we went directly to the bedroom.
That we made love in Ayn and Frank's bedroom was sometimes hard to bear. And yet it remained the symbol of our relationship at its most harmonious. I cannot recall a single conflict in that setting. It stood in my mind as a place of unique safety, almost a sanctuary.
Entering it now, I was aware of the special quality of earnestness that Ayn always brought to the act of sex. She was intense as a human being and never more so than in this realm. She was everything I could wish, except playful. When she looked at me, it was with the eyes of a priestess contemplating the object of her worship. When she touched me, it was with solemnity, even reverence. Nothing was casual or frivolous. When she attempted lightness, the seriousness of her attempt made me smile. I liked it more when she was her naturally earnest self. She could abandon herself, she could fully surrender to the experience, yet I was always aware of the powerful presence of her searchlight consciousness—of those eyes that missed nothing. When I mentioned this last to her once, she told me that I projected the same quality. "We are not people who sex makes unconscious," she said.
It was always important to me that she feel desirable, sexual, physically fulfilled. I wanted to giver her that—selfishly. I believed that if two people truly cared for each other, not only did they desire the other's sexual satisfaction, they also wished to strengthen and reinforce the other's sexual self-esteem, the other's sense of self as a woman or a man. Earlier in our relationship, if I devoted a long period of time to Ayn's pleasure, she might ask, "You're not being altruistic, are you?" She meant it; she had a horror of the man doing anything in bed that was "unselfish." I would laugh and assure her of the selfishness of my motives. By now, such questions were long behind us.
Even in surrendering, Ayn manifested her unique kind of power. She had a quality of the most extraordinary presence, her eyes, her voice, her gestures, all asserting existence, all asserting confidence, in every expression. It is said that many women find power in a man an aphrodisiac; I found Ayn's personal power no less erotic. I enjoyed thinking that she was a cosmic force I was able to tame—if only for a moment.
Whatever this relationship is ultimately about, I told myself, wherever we're headed, this is what one lives for.
That we made love in Ayn and Frank's bedroom was sometimes hard to bear. And yet it remained the symbol of our relationship at its most harmonious. I cannot recall a single conflict in that setting. It stood in my mind as a place of unique safety, almost a sanctuary.
Entering it now, I was aware of the special quality of earnestness that Ayn always brought to the act of sex. She was intense as a human being and never more so than in this realm. She was everything I could wish, except playful. When she looked at me, it was with the eyes of a priestess contemplating the object of her worship. When she touched me, it was with solemnity, even reverence. Nothing was casual or frivolous. When she attempted lightness, the seriousness of her attempt made me smile. I liked it more when she was her naturally earnest self. She could abandon herself, she could fully surrender to the experience, yet I was always aware of the powerful presence of her searchlight consciousness—of those eyes that missed nothing. When I mentioned this last to her once, she told me that I projected the same quality. "We are not people who sex makes unconscious," she said.
It was always important to me that she feel desirable, sexual, physically fulfilled. I wanted to giver her that—selfishly. I believed that if two people truly cared for each other, not only did they desire the other's sexual satisfaction, they also wished to strengthen and reinforce the other's sexual self-esteem, the other's sense of self as a woman or a man. Earlier in our relationship, if I devoted a long period of time to Ayn's pleasure, she might ask, "You're not being altruistic, are you?" She meant it; she had a horror of the man doing anything in bed that was "unselfish." I would laugh and assure her of the selfishness of my motives. By now, such questions were long behind us.
Even in surrendering, Ayn manifested her unique kind of power. She had a quality of the most extraordinary presence, her eyes, her voice, her gestures, all asserting existence, all asserting confidence, in every expression. It is said that many women find power in a man an aphrodisiac; I found Ayn's personal power no less erotic. I enjoyed thinking that she was a cosmic force I was able to tame—if only for a moment.
Whatever this relationship is ultimately about, I told myself, wherever we're headed, this is what one lives for.
This is an homage Rand richly deserves. When we look at her love life in homage, the triumph is what matters, not the defeat. We can see in this small passage why Nathaniel and Ayn were in love and feel some of the excitement.
Michael
Hi, Mike.
That was a great excerpt and did give insight. The thing I find interesting with sex is that it very much is the most profound selfish act a person can perform but the trader principle also goes into effect in this situation. She benefits but so does he. You know, sex would really suck the big one if it was performed only for the selfishness of yourself and what you could get out of it only without ever taking into account your partner's pleasure. I mean, what man would want to abstain from the pleasures of a woman performing fellatio. That is a part of the sex act and vice versa for her. It's a trade, your pleasure for mine.
The root belief is the same, selfishness, etc. But I think it also has to do with each person's personality and how much they are willing to experiment and try new things. For me, I know in order to keep the relationship going in that respect you have to be playful, willing to experiment and try new things or else it becomes too routine and you expect the same things each time the act comes around. Does that make sense?
For me, it's the spice of life to find a new pleasure that is not destructive, that celebrates life, love of it, love of existing, etc., no matter what aspect it is, be it sex, enjoying new food, etc. It's the willingness to try new things to see if it will "add" to your life, to your sense of life, to your values, etc.
Sex, it's a two way street. For me and I'm sure it is for most out there, they want to please themselves but they also want to please their partner. You know, you scratch my back, I scratch yours.....trader principle.
For me, it's hard to judge it based on one person's experience with them such as in that excerpt and what is described. Each person may have the same value and the root is based on selfishness but I think it depends on the individual person. For me, it is based on selfishness very much but the trader principle comes in on wanting to also please my partner.
That's just my perspective of it. I agree with AR very much in regards to sex. But for me, I would also like my partner to be satisfied. The sex act is so private between two people, so profound between two people, they are celebrating life and wanting to experience the pleasures of life, of existing. Plus my knowing that I can offer him something that will be pleasurable brings me pleasure. Does this make sense?
I don't know about AR's personal life, especially in that regard. But apparently comments had been made that she was mediocre when it came to bedroom situations. But again, I think everyone is different. For me, we all go in wanting to please ourselves of course, but for me, my partner's happiness also plays into it as does mine which I'm sure most people out there it does.
Obviously AR was a very mesmerizing person. And what they shared....obviously they loved each other deeply.
Angie
That was a great excerpt and did give insight. The thing I find interesting with sex is that it very much is the most profound selfish act a person can perform but the trader principle also goes into effect in this situation. She benefits but so does he. You know, sex would really suck the big one if it was performed only for the selfishness of yourself and what you could get out of it only without ever taking into account your partner's pleasure. I mean, what man would want to abstain from the pleasures of a woman performing fellatio. That is a part of the sex act and vice versa for her. It's a trade, your pleasure for mine.
The root belief is the same, selfishness, etc. But I think it also has to do with each person's personality and how much they are willing to experiment and try new things. For me, I know in order to keep the relationship going in that respect you have to be playful, willing to experiment and try new things or else it becomes too routine and you expect the same things each time the act comes around. Does that make sense?
For me, it's the spice of life to find a new pleasure that is not destructive, that celebrates life, love of it, love of existing, etc., no matter what aspect it is, be it sex, enjoying new food, etc. It's the willingness to try new things to see if it will "add" to your life, to your sense of life, to your values, etc.
Sex, it's a two way street. For me and I'm sure it is for most out there, they want to please themselves but they also want to please their partner. You know, you scratch my back, I scratch yours.....trader principle.
For me, it's hard to judge it based on one person's experience with them such as in that excerpt and what is described. Each person may have the same value and the root is based on selfishness but I think it depends on the individual person. For me, it is based on selfishness very much but the trader principle comes in on wanting to also please my partner.
That's just my perspective of it. I agree with AR very much in regards to sex. But for me, I would also like my partner to be satisfied. The sex act is so private between two people, so profound between two people, they are celebrating life and wanting to experience the pleasures of life, of existing. Plus my knowing that I can offer him something that will be pleasurable brings me pleasure. Does this make sense?
I don't know about AR's personal life, especially in that regard. But apparently comments had been made that she was mediocre when it came to bedroom situations. But again, I think everyone is different. For me, we all go in wanting to please ourselves of course, but for me, my partner's happiness also plays into it as does mine which I'm sure most people out there it does.
Obviously AR was a very mesmerizing person. And what they shared....obviously they loved each other deeply.
Angie
Thanks for the fascinating quote. I've been puzzled by the hardcore Objectivist view of sex before, including the sometimes unbelievable focus with regards to selfishness, eg.
Such eagerness to avoid any appearance of altruism seems to implicitly ignore that (in any relationship longer than one-night) a trader principle can apply over time. Having to consider each act in isolation as one of selfishness seems like it would either lead to a) rationalization from 'I enjoy seeing my partner happy' to 'I must inherently enjoy every act which makes my partner happy', or worse,
shortchanging both people by not being willing to try something new for fear of not being selfish enough.
QUOTE(MSK quoting NB)
Earlier in our relationship, if I devoted a long period of time to Ayn's pleasure, she might ask, "You're not being altruistic, are you?" She meant it; she had a horror of the man doing anything in bed that was "unselfish." I would laugh and assure her of the selfishness of my motives.
Such eagerness to avoid any appearance of altruism seems to implicitly ignore that (in any relationship longer than one-night) a trader principle can apply over time. Having to consider each act in isolation as one of selfishness seems like it would either lead to a) rationalization from 'I enjoy seeing my partner happy' to 'I must inherently enjoy every act which makes my partner happy', or worse,
shortchanging both people by not being willing to try something new for fear of not being selfish enough.
After thinking about what I posted, I wanted to clarify something in my post that maybe I didn't convey it right. When I know I can "offer" something to my partner that is pleasurable, it brings me pleasure. The offer of a certain act, for me, is the trade, his pleasure for my pleasure in seeing and knowing that I am able to provide that act which he enjoys. That same act may not be reciprocated at that moment but later on both will benefit in other ways. The overall act of sex is very selfish but the way I am seeing it also, the trader principle is heavily used in all aspects of it.
For me, it takes two to tango. I want to please myself but I also want my partner to be happy and satisfied. Who wants a partner that is not happy? I know I don't. For me personally, I want to "share" with my partner my sense of life and my love of it. I want to be happy but I also want the man I am close to, my long term partner to also be happy, to "discover" new things together, etc. When I can "offer" a certain act that he obviously enjoys, it makes me happy that I can provide that to him and vice versa for me.
Such a personal subject. But these are just my views of it, my perspective, and my beliefs regarding it. I just wanted to write another post to hopefully convey that idea of mine better just in case it wasn't clear.
Angie
For me, it takes two to tango. I want to please myself but I also want my partner to be happy and satisfied. Who wants a partner that is not happy? I know I don't. For me personally, I want to "share" with my partner my sense of life and my love of it. I want to be happy but I also want the man I am close to, my long term partner to also be happy, to "discover" new things together, etc. When I can "offer" a certain act that he obviously enjoys, it makes me happy that I can provide that to him and vice versa for me.
Such a personal subject. But these are just my views of it, my perspective, and my beliefs regarding it. I just wanted to write another post to hopefully convey that idea of mine better just in case it wasn't clear.
Angie
Here is the description of the first meeting between Barbara and Ayn Rand from The Passion of Ayn Rand, pp. 234-235. The time was March 1950 and the place was Rand's ranch home (designed by Richard Neutra) in Chatsworth, CA, near Los Angeles. Rand was 45 years old.
This is some very beautiful writing by Barbara for a very beautiful memory.
Michael
QUOTE
I no longer recall what I said or what Ayn said when we were introduced and I first heard her husky, Russian-accented voice. The total of my concentration was on the visual reality of the woman who stood before me. At first, I saw only her eyes—and I had the sudden, odd feeling, a feeling gone before I could grasp it, that I was naked before those fiercely perceptive eyes, and alone—and safe. It was the beat of a long moment before I could wrench my glance away to capture the full figure.
Ayn was a small, stocky woman, dressed in a pale green blouse and gray skirt, with short, dark hair—the hair style of the twenties, straight and bobbed and severe—and a full, sensuous mouth set firmly in a squarish face. She was not a conventionally attractive woman, but compelling in the remarkable combination of perceptiveness and sensuality, of intelligence and passionate intensity, that she projected.
Beside her stood a tall, gaunt man with the appearance and manner of an aristocrat. There was no touch or hint of aristocracy in Frank's background, only a long line of manual workers. But his figure had an elegance that spoke of gentle breeding. He had light, straight hair thrown back from a high forehead, gray-blue eyes, and the large, slightly gnarled hands of a laborer. He seemed a man from a different century, perhaps a member of the Southern landed gentry living in the nineteenth century. There was an easy, slow grace about him, a warmth, a gentleness, the spiritual and physical elegance of a man who would have been content in beautiful old surroundings with beautiful old possessions and a way of life that required only his particular quiet charm.
The living room of the house seemed inevitable for that house and for Ayn Rand. The room, its walls painted peacock blue, was large, filled with comfortable overstuffed furniture covered in shades of beige, with coffee tables and a record cabinet in blond wood; scattered over the tables were brightly colored ashtrays in vivid blue-green, Ayn's favorite color, and bowls of fresh flowers. And everywhere, larger than life size, were giant plants, their colors and shapes bringing sunshine and daylight into the night room. Above, extending around two sides of the living room, was a gallery that formed the hallway of the second floor; from the gallery's peacock blue railing the green of more plants spilled down like a cheerful frame for the second story. Through a window, one could see the burnished walls of gray slate, open to the sky, which formed the outdoor patio.
As we began to talk, Ayn pulled out a cigarette holder and lighted the first of the evening's many cigarettes. She was rarely without the holder; even when she was not smoking, she held it almost as a weapon, punctuating her words with sharp, jagged gestures. All her gestures were abrupt, straight-lined, and unblurred, like her thoughts and her conversation.
After not more than ten minutes of getting-acquainted social conversation—she asked how Nathaniel and I had met, and seemed delighted to learn that it was because of The Fountainhead: "It's a wonderful fiction event," she laughed—we plunged into a discussion of precisely the sorts of issues Nathaniel and I had been struggling with for the past two years. An important part of the powerful effect of Ayn's personality on everyone who met her was that she appeared to have an acute sensitivity to the particular concepts most relevant to whomever she was addressing, a special antenna that gave her a direct line to what would be especially meaningful; many of her acquaintances had commented on this phenomenon, as many more were to do throughout her life.
Evidently pleased by our interest in philosophical questions—an interest for which she had been starved in her dealings with conservative friends whose concerns were narrowly political—she spoke, that evening, of her concept of "the benevolent universe," her view that man's natural state is one of achievement, fulfillment, and joy; she spoke of free will as the choice, or the refusal, to use one's mind to the limit of one's ability; she spoke of emotions as the product of an intellectual estimate, made consciously or subconsciously. Ayn was, by basic mental set, a superb teacher, taking endless joy in the activity of breaking down complex issues into their easily graspable parts, in communicating her thoughts, in working out the implications of her ideas in conversations, in honing the concepts she was developing in Atlas Shrugged. Nathaniel and I listened, argued, and questioned with an almost painfully intense eagerness, feeling as if she were weaving a personal miracle for us.
Ayn was a small, stocky woman, dressed in a pale green blouse and gray skirt, with short, dark hair—the hair style of the twenties, straight and bobbed and severe—and a full, sensuous mouth set firmly in a squarish face. She was not a conventionally attractive woman, but compelling in the remarkable combination of perceptiveness and sensuality, of intelligence and passionate intensity, that she projected.
Beside her stood a tall, gaunt man with the appearance and manner of an aristocrat. There was no touch or hint of aristocracy in Frank's background, only a long line of manual workers. But his figure had an elegance that spoke of gentle breeding. He had light, straight hair thrown back from a high forehead, gray-blue eyes, and the large, slightly gnarled hands of a laborer. He seemed a man from a different century, perhaps a member of the Southern landed gentry living in the nineteenth century. There was an easy, slow grace about him, a warmth, a gentleness, the spiritual and physical elegance of a man who would have been content in beautiful old surroundings with beautiful old possessions and a way of life that required only his particular quiet charm.
The living room of the house seemed inevitable for that house and for Ayn Rand. The room, its walls painted peacock blue, was large, filled with comfortable overstuffed furniture covered in shades of beige, with coffee tables and a record cabinet in blond wood; scattered over the tables were brightly colored ashtrays in vivid blue-green, Ayn's favorite color, and bowls of fresh flowers. And everywhere, larger than life size, were giant plants, their colors and shapes bringing sunshine and daylight into the night room. Above, extending around two sides of the living room, was a gallery that formed the hallway of the second floor; from the gallery's peacock blue railing the green of more plants spilled down like a cheerful frame for the second story. Through a window, one could see the burnished walls of gray slate, open to the sky, which formed the outdoor patio.
As we began to talk, Ayn pulled out a cigarette holder and lighted the first of the evening's many cigarettes. She was rarely without the holder; even when she was not smoking, she held it almost as a weapon, punctuating her words with sharp, jagged gestures. All her gestures were abrupt, straight-lined, and unblurred, like her thoughts and her conversation.
After not more than ten minutes of getting-acquainted social conversation—she asked how Nathaniel and I had met, and seemed delighted to learn that it was because of The Fountainhead: "It's a wonderful fiction event," she laughed—we plunged into a discussion of precisely the sorts of issues Nathaniel and I had been struggling with for the past two years. An important part of the powerful effect of Ayn's personality on everyone who met her was that she appeared to have an acute sensitivity to the particular concepts most relevant to whomever she was addressing, a special antenna that gave her a direct line to what would be especially meaningful; many of her acquaintances had commented on this phenomenon, as many more were to do throughout her life.
Evidently pleased by our interest in philosophical questions—an interest for which she had been starved in her dealings with conservative friends whose concerns were narrowly political—she spoke, that evening, of her concept of "the benevolent universe," her view that man's natural state is one of achievement, fulfillment, and joy; she spoke of free will as the choice, or the refusal, to use one's mind to the limit of one's ability; she spoke of emotions as the product of an intellectual estimate, made consciously or subconsciously. Ayn was, by basic mental set, a superb teacher, taking endless joy in the activity of breaking down complex issues into their easily graspable parts, in communicating her thoughts, in working out the implications of her ideas in conversations, in honing the concepts she was developing in Atlas Shrugged. Nathaniel and I listened, argued, and questioned with an almost painfully intense eagerness, feeling as if she were weaving a personal miracle for us.
This is some very beautiful writing by Barbara for a very beautiful memory.
Michael
Michael wrote:
Upon finally reading Barbara Branden's Passion of Ayn Rand, I have been very impressed by her writing quality and by her love of her subject. It constantly gives me the impression that it was a work of love for Ayn Rand, not one of hate, as it is too often misrepresented. She sees Ayn Rand as awesomely great, a passionate teacher, often wonderfully loving, but, realistically, also sometimes unable to perceive important aspects of her relationships with other people and sometimes impatient with others. If you love the fiction of Ayn Rand and her philosophy, you must be committed to making a realistic assessment of her personal life. To do less is to betray the philosophy, oneself, and Ayn Rand. It seems to me that Barbara tries very hard to live up to this purpose.
QUOTE
This is some very beautiful writing by Barbara for a very beautiful memory.
Upon finally reading Barbara Branden's Passion of Ayn Rand, I have been very impressed by her writing quality and by her love of her subject. It constantly gives me the impression that it was a work of love for Ayn Rand, not one of hate, as it is too often misrepresented. She sees Ayn Rand as awesomely great, a passionate teacher, often wonderfully loving, but, realistically, also sometimes unable to perceive important aspects of her relationships with other people and sometimes impatient with others. If you love the fiction of Ayn Rand and her philosophy, you must be committed to making a realistic assessment of her personal life. To do less is to betray the philosophy, oneself, and Ayn Rand. It seems to me that Barbara tries very hard to live up to this purpose.
QUOTE(Charles R. Anderson)
[...] Barbara Branden's Passion of Ayn Rand [...] constantly gives me the impression that it was a work of love for Ayn Rand, not one of hate, as it is too often misrepresented.
Likewise. I keep being amazed when people interpret that book as an attempt to denigrate Rand. (I understand why people might do that: because they feel that anything which could be considered negative about Rand is a denigration. But I still feel amazed contemplating how differently such people must be reading the tone than I do.)
Ellen
___
Charles R. Anderson wrote:
"[...] Barbara Branden's Passion of Ayn Rand [...] constantly gives me the impression that it was a work of love for Ayn Rand, not one of hate, as it is too often misrepresented."
Thank you, Charles, and also Ellen, for understanding this.
Barbara
"[...] Barbara Branden's Passion of Ayn Rand [...] constantly gives me the impression that it was a work of love for Ayn Rand, not one of hate, as it is too often misrepresented."
Thank you, Charles, and also Ellen, for understanding this.
Barbara
OK, after these latest posts, I'm more and more leaning toward reading Barbara's book, dammit.
I think I have a mental block about the whole field of biography and I'm not quite sure why, since I'm generally an omnivorous reader. For some reason, I don't think I will learn as much as if I read another history book, even though I'm intelligent enough to know that doesn't quite make sense, as I am interested in people and in psychology and in a good personal story. I have Benjamin Franklin's Autobiography sitting on my shelf unread for a decade, even though I love Benjamin Franklin, have heard many good things about it, and it is a classic. I also have some biographies of great scientists which I have no inclinations to crack open. Does this mean I'm a thoroughly evil person or only two-thirds??!!@#$%^*(%@
I think I have a mental block about the whole field of biography and I'm not quite sure why, since I'm generally an omnivorous reader. For some reason, I don't think I will learn as much as if I read another history book, even though I'm intelligent enough to know that doesn't quite make sense, as I am interested in people and in psychology and in a good personal story. I have Benjamin Franklin's Autobiography sitting on my shelf unread for a decade, even though I love Benjamin Franklin, have heard many good things about it, and it is a classic. I also have some biographies of great scientists which I have no inclinations to crack open. Does this mean I'm a thoroughly evil person or only two-thirds??!!@#$%^*(%@
Phillip: "Does this mean I'm a thoroughly evil person or only two-thirds??"
Only two-thirds.
Barbara
Only two-thirds.
Barbara
QUOTE(Philip Coates)
I have Benjamin Franklin's Autobiography sitting on my shelf unread for a decade, even though I love Benjamin Franklin, have heard many good things about it, and it is a classic.
Franklin's Autobiography is great, there is alot to learn from him. I try to read it once a year. Try to read it when you get the time.
Also, I just got my copy of PAR in the mail and will begin it shortly.
Okay, Phil and Aggrad, you're on the hook. Now that you've said you're going to read Passion, I'll be interested in hearing your impressions.
Aggrad, is there a name we could call you? "Aggrad" lacks a certain intimacy.
Barbara
Aggrad, is there a name we could call you? "Aggrad" lacks a certain intimacy.
Barbara
My last post reminded me of something about Rand relevant to this thread. When we -- Nathaniel and I, and members of the Collective -- would be reading Atlas during the period when we were all reading it in manuscript as it was being written, she did something that drove us somewhat crazy, but it was touching and funny. She was always very interested in our reactions, and her interest took the form of intently and disconcertingly watching our faces as we were reading. If an expression didn't tell her what she wanted to know, she'd interrrupt the reading to demand: "Well -- what?" A smile of appreciation, a look of extra intensity, a gasp of suprise, a raised eyebrow, meant that we'd have to stop reading to explain. I thought of forcing myself to read with a poker face, so as not to be interrupted -- but then I realized she might take inscrutability to mean I was having no reaction at all, which would lead to a demand for an explanation of THAT. There was no escape.
Years later, when a close friend would be reading Passion, I completely understood Rand's interest in facial expresions. I rarely said: "Well -- what?" -- but the cost in frustrated curiosity was high.
Barbara
Years later, when a close friend would be reading Passion, I completely understood Rand's interest in facial expresions. I rarely said: "Well -- what?" -- but the cost in frustrated curiosity was high.
Barbara
QUOTE(Barbara Branden)
Aggrad, is there a name we could call you? "Aggrad" lacks a certain intimacy.
Barbara
Barbara
Barbara,
My name is Dustan Costine. aggrad02 is the user name I always use when leaving post on boards or blogs. Usually I try to sign my name after the post but many times I get in a hurry and forget.
I saw Miss Rand several times in 1966 and 1967 at NBI in New York City. I also saw an appearance in 1966 at Basic opening lecture in Washington DC. I found her behavior very good at these occassions. I don't remember her being angry except when she was discussing the draft and Veti-nam war at the Washington appearance. She said something about the people in Washington and got a friendly laugh and then apologized saying she was not thinking of these Washington people. She did not lash out at any of the questioners. I never saw her at Ford Hall Forum but listened to a couple of her lectures and on these occassions I was disappointed in aspects of her behavior.
I found an absolutely charming website of photographer and graphic artist:
J. Ellen Cotton
It is called ellensplace.net. She has a section devoted to Ayn Rand with a brief biography and some very lovely photos. Here are a few. I can think of no better place for them than the thread of "Remembering good things about Ayn Rand." But I highly recommend visiting Ellen's site (also for the other fascinating subjects found on it).
From Index
From 1905 - 1926
Ayn age 9, with her father
Ayn in 1925
From 1926 - 1951
Frank O'Conner
Ayn and Frank
From 1951 - 1982
Ayn and Frank in NYC
Ayn on lecture tour
Bravo, Ellen. Discovering your site has made my day.
Michael
The following statement from her site (adapted) is worth quoting: This is a non-commercial, personal web discussion forum and is to be used for commentary, educational and research purposes only. "Fair use" is claimed under U.S. copyright law, section 107.
J. Ellen Cotton
It is called ellensplace.net. She has a section devoted to Ayn Rand with a brief biography and some very lovely photos. Here are a few. I can think of no better place for them than the thread of "Remembering good things about Ayn Rand." But I highly recommend visiting Ellen's site (also for the other fascinating subjects found on it).
From Index
From 1905 - 1926
Ayn age 9, with her father
Ayn in 1925
From 1926 - 1951
Frank O'Conner
Ayn and Frank
From 1951 - 1982
Ayn and Frank in NYC
Ayn on lecture tour
Bravo, Ellen. Discovering your site has made my day.
Michael
The following statement from her site (adapted) is worth quoting: This is a non-commercial, personal web discussion forum and is to be used for commentary, educational and research purposes only. "Fair use" is claimed under U.S. copyright law, section 107.
Thank you, Mike....totally and utterly charming and brought a HUGE SMILE to my face. I read a very very interesting bio last night that had me in all smiles as well, tickled pink over it. This one does also tickle me pink and the pictures are fabulous !! I'm slowly learning more about Ayn and the more I learn the more I've fallen in love with her. 
Angie
Angie
I think the photo of Ayn and Frank on top of the Rockefeller Center Building was taken in the 1940s after the war.
--Brant
--Brant
The New Yorker said 1947 when they ran that photo in 96. I wonder about the 1925 date; she doesn't look more than 15. The Sheraton-Plaza was probably NBI, not a lecture tour.
Some people are never satisfied.
Peter
Some people are never satisfied.
Peter
Peter: "The Sheraton-Plaza was probably NBI, not a lecture tour."
You're correct; it definitely was an NBI question period.
Barbara
You're correct; it definitely was an NBI question period.
Barbara
Barbara and Mike; Some really great material. My question to Barbara; Is any of the material from NBI question and answer available at all. Where they taped? Where the tapes destroyed.? Does anybody have any bootleg tapes?
Here is an anecdote I came across about Ayn Rand. I noticed this anecdote on the blog of a guy in India named "Ergo Sum." The blog is called Leitmotif: Reason as the Leading Motive and the entry is called Two Lovely Ayn Rand Anecdotes (August 7, 2006).
Ergo Sum wrote a story about Ayn Rand that was told on a radio show by a caller. The radio show was on the New Hampshire Public Radio hosted by Laura Knoy and was aired on Wednesday, February 2, 2005. You can hear it here. (It was an interview with Bernstein and there were several callers over the course of the show.) The name of the caller was "Bill," and from his voice, it sounded an awful lot like Bill Dwyer, although I cannot be absolutely sure. The date of Rand's speech at the Ford Hall Forum was not identified, nor was the speech that was given. I have transcribed Bill's anecdote word-for-word from the show.
I wonder if anyone has a tape or CD of the Ford Hall Forum lectures and can check to see the exact words that were said. It sure sounds a lot like Rand.
Michael
Ergo Sum wrote a story about Ayn Rand that was told on a radio show by a caller. The radio show was on the New Hampshire Public Radio hosted by Laura Knoy and was aired on Wednesday, February 2, 2005. You can hear it here. (It was an interview with Bernstein and there were several callers over the course of the show.) The name of the caller was "Bill," and from his voice, it sounded an awful lot like Bill Dwyer, although I cannot be absolutely sure. The date of Rand's speech at the Ford Hall Forum was not identified, nor was the speech that was given. I have transcribed Bill's anecdote word-for-word from the show.
QUOTE(Bill)
The Ford Hall Forum had so many people that they had to put people out on stage. And there was this very lovely small blonde girl, maybe 12 years old, sitting on the stage off to stage right. And she was trying to ask a question during the question period, and Ms. Rand couldn't see her because she was behind Ms. Rand.
And then finally several of us pointed to the young girl. Ms. Rand turned to her and said, "What's your question?" And she stood up and said, "Why is so much emphasis put on people were not able? Why isn't there any emphasis put on bright people?"
And Ms. Rand almost became teary and said, "My whole philosophy is intended to try to make the world better for you."
And her face... her voice... was so touched by that young girl that she asked the young girl to come back and meet her afterwards.
And then finally several of us pointed to the young girl. Ms. Rand turned to her and said, "What's your question?" And she stood up and said, "Why is so much emphasis put on people were not able? Why isn't there any emphasis put on bright people?"
And Ms. Rand almost became teary and said, "My whole philosophy is intended to try to make the world better for you."
And her face... her voice... was so touched by that young girl that she asked the young girl to come back and meet her afterwards.
I wonder if anyone has a tape or CD of the Ford Hall Forum lectures and can check to see the exact words that were said. It sure sounds a lot like Rand.
Michael
Chris: " My question to Barbara; Is any of the material from NBI question and answer available at all. Where they taped? Where the tapes destroyed.? Does anybody have any bootleg tapes?"
Question and answer sessions were taped by NBI in conjunction with the taping of the lectures, and were sent as a package to our other cities. However, in order to be duplicated for distribution to our other cities, these tapes were sent to the company that did duplication for us. When NBI closed, they were never returned to us -- and, I am told, are now in the possession of ARI.
Barbara
Question and answer sessions were taped by NBI in conjunction with the taping of the lectures, and were sent as a package to our other cities. However, in order to be duplicated for distribution to our other cities, these tapes were sent to the company that did duplication for us. When NBI closed, they were never returned to us -- and, I am told, are now in the possession of ARI.
Barbara
QUOTE(Michael Stuart Kelly @ Nov 11 2006, 06:18 PM) 
Here is an anecdote I came across about Ayn Rand. I noticed this anecdote on the blog of a guy in India named "Ergo Sum." The blog is called Leitmotif: Reason as the Leading Motive and the entry is called Two Lovely Ayn Rand Anecdotes (August 7, 2006).
Ergo Sum wrote a story about Ayn Rand that was told on a radio show by a caller. The radio show was on the New Hampshire Public Radio hosted by Laura Knoy and was aired on Wednesday, February 2, 2005. You can hear it here. (It was an interview with Bernstein and there were several callers over the course of the show.) The name of the caller was "Bill," and from his voice, it sounded an awful lot like Bill Dwyer, although I cannot be absolutely sure. The date of Rand's speech at the Ford Hall Forum was not identified, nor was the speech that was given. I have transcribed Bill's anecdote word-for-word from the show.
I wonder if anyone has a tape or CD of the Ford Hall Forum lectures and can check to see the exact words that were said. It sure sounds a lot like Rand.
Michael
Ergo Sum wrote a story about Ayn Rand that was told on a radio show by a caller. The radio show was on the New Hampshire Public Radio hosted by Laura Knoy and was aired on Wednesday, February 2, 2005. You can hear it here. (It was an interview with Bernstein and there were several callers over the course of the show.) The name of the caller was "Bill," and from his voice, it sounded an awful lot like Bill Dwyer, although I cannot be absolutely sure. The date of Rand's speech at the Ford Hall Forum was not identified, nor was the speech that was given. I have transcribed Bill's anecdote word-for-word from the show.
QUOTE(Bill)
The Ford Hall Forum had so many people that they had to put people out on stage. And there was this very lovely small blonde girl, maybe 12 years old, sitting on the stage off to stage right. And she was trying to ask a question during the question period, and Ms. Rand couldn't see her because she was behind Ms. Rand.
And then finally several of us pointed to the young girl. Ms. Rand turned to her and said, "What's your question?" And she stood up and said, "Why is so much emphasis put on people were not able? Why isn't there any emphasis put on bright people?"
And Ms. Rand almost became teary and said, "My whole philosophy is intended to try to make the world better for you."
And her face... her voice... was so touched by that young girl that she asked the young girl to come back and meet her afterwards.
And then finally several of us pointed to the young girl. Ms. Rand turned to her and said, "What's your question?" And she stood up and said, "Why is so much emphasis put on people were not able? Why isn't there any emphasis put on bright people?"
And Ms. Rand almost became teary and said, "My whole philosophy is intended to try to make the world better for you."
And her face... her voice... was so touched by that young girl that she asked the young girl to come back and meet her afterwards.
I wonder if anyone has a tape or CD of the Ford Hall Forum lectures and can check to see the exact words that were said. It sure sounds a lot like Rand.
Michael
I think you'll find this in "Ayn Rand Answers." Can't find my copy in all my clutter. I don't think she's IDed as a little girl. She was on the right side of the stage as you face the stage. I think that's referred to in the theater as "stage left." I was on the other side of the stage. I think there was a group of nuns seated to the rear of the stage. After the question but, I think before the answer, Ayn applauded the little girl, so did the audience. Probably 1971. If Ayn got teary I couldn't see it from the other side of the stage as she was turned away from me.
--Brant
Barbara; Thanks for your reply. I suspect since NBI is never refered by ARI they will never be available. If you never talk about something it of course never existed. Isn't that called blanking out?
Here is a beautiful post by Ellen Stuttle on another thread giving the beginning of Barbara Branden's essay Who is Ayn Rand?.
Michael
Michael
QUOTE(Ellen Stuttle @ Feb 2 2007, 06:18 PM)
I'll quote the whole passage. It's just beautifully written. Barbara is and was then a very skilled writer.
This is the start of the title essay of Who Is Ayn Rand?, © Copyright, 1962, by Nathaniel Branden. Random House. (I don't know why there wasn't a separate copyright for BB's piece.)
[Extra paragraph break added for easier reading.]
"To hold an unchanging youth is to reach, at the end, the vision with which one started."
It was a world of irresistible gaiety. It was made of the music that tinkled arrogantly against crystal ovals of brilliance strung across the vast solemnity of the ceiling--music that danced defiantly on the soft, faded elegance of velvet drapery and on the stern white marble of glistening walls--music that surged upward through the stately grandeur of the opera house, carrying, in its rise, the laughter of a weightless exultation. It was made of graceful bodies whirling in effortless motion on a stage held in light rays, of silk gowns and radiant smiles and gleaming top hats--against the backdrop of a huge window which framed the painted image of lighted streets and the skyscrapers of a foreign city, sparkling and beckoning in the distance.
Beyond the walls of the theater--beyond the reach of the operetta--was a city of unending grayness: the grayness of crumbling buildings and crumbling souls, of stooped shoulders and bread lines and ration cards, of chronic hunger and chronic despair and the odor of disinfectants, of steel bayonets and barbed wire, and marching feet moving in a grim parade of death to sudden arrests in the night, of weary men crushed to their knees under waving flags and clenched fists. Only the flags and the fists relieved the grayness: the fists were stained, by a different dye, the same red as the flags. The city was Petrograd. The year was 1922.
A slender young girl with large eyes sat high in the last balcony of the opera house, leaning forward tensely, listening to the meaning of the most ecstatic sounds she had ever heard. The bright notes sparkling and leaping in the air around her and the reckless gaiety of the scene spread out on the stage below, were carrying a message to her, and a promise They told her there was a sunlit, carefree world--a world of unobstructed action, of unobstructed fulfillment--somewhere beyond the dark night and the darker horrors, and it waited only for her to claim it.
She listened with grave solemnity to the promise--and she gave a promise in return: that if she could not be the physical citizen of that glittering world, she would be its spiritual citizen. She took her oath of allegiance, with passionate dedication--with the gay score of an operetta as the holy bible on which she swore--an oath never to let the reality of her true homeland be dimmed by the gray exhaustion of a life lived under the alien weight of the ugly, the sordid, the tragic; to hold the worship of joy as her shield against the sunless murk around her; to keep burning within her that fuel which alone could carry her to the world she had to reach, the fuel which had kept her moving through her seventeen years: the sense of life as an exalted, demanding, triumphant adventure.
Thirty-five years later, and more than five thousand miles away, the young girl was to erect a monument to that music, and to the sense of life she had never lost or betrayed. The monument was Atlas Shrugged. The girl was Ayn Rand.
The next paragraph starts, "Ayn Rand was born on February 2, 1905 [...]."
Today is February 2, 102 years later.
Ellen
___
This is the start of the title essay of Who Is Ayn Rand?, © Copyright, 1962, by Nathaniel Branden. Random House. (I don't know why there wasn't a separate copyright for BB's piece.)
QUOTE
[Extra paragraph break added for easier reading.]
"To hold an unchanging youth is to reach, at the end, the vision with which one started."
It was a world of irresistible gaiety. It was made of the music that tinkled arrogantly against crystal ovals of brilliance strung across the vast solemnity of the ceiling--music that danced defiantly on the soft, faded elegance of velvet drapery and on the stern white marble of glistening walls--music that surged upward through the stately grandeur of the opera house, carrying, in its rise, the laughter of a weightless exultation. It was made of graceful bodies whirling in effortless motion on a stage held in light rays, of silk gowns and radiant smiles and gleaming top hats--against the backdrop of a huge window which framed the painted image of lighted streets and the skyscrapers of a foreign city, sparkling and beckoning in the distance.
Beyond the walls of the theater--beyond the reach of the operetta--was a city of unending grayness: the grayness of crumbling buildings and crumbling souls, of stooped shoulders and bread lines and ration cards, of chronic hunger and chronic despair and the odor of disinfectants, of steel bayonets and barbed wire, and marching feet moving in a grim parade of death to sudden arrests in the night, of weary men crushed to their knees under waving flags and clenched fists. Only the flags and the fists relieved the grayness: the fists were stained, by a different dye, the same red as the flags. The city was Petrograd. The year was 1922.
A slender young girl with large eyes sat high in the last balcony of the opera house, leaning forward tensely, listening to the meaning of the most ecstatic sounds she had ever heard. The bright notes sparkling and leaping in the air around her and the reckless gaiety of the scene spread out on the stage below, were carrying a message to her, and a promise They told her there was a sunlit, carefree world--a world of unobstructed action, of unobstructed fulfillment--somewhere beyond the dark night and the darker horrors, and it waited only for her to claim it.
She listened with grave solemnity to the promise--and she gave a promise in return: that if she could not be the physical citizen of that glittering world, she would be its spiritual citizen. She took her oath of allegiance, with passionate dedication--with the gay score of an operetta as the holy bible on which she swore--an oath never to let the reality of her true homeland be dimmed by the gray exhaustion of a life lived under the alien weight of the ugly, the sordid, the tragic; to hold the worship of joy as her shield against the sunless murk around her; to keep burning within her that fuel which alone could carry her to the world she had to reach, the fuel which had kept her moving through her seventeen years: the sense of life as an exalted, demanding, triumphant adventure.
Thirty-five years later, and more than five thousand miles away, the young girl was to erect a monument to that music, and to the sense of life she had never lost or betrayed. The monument was Atlas Shrugged. The girl was Ayn Rand.
The next paragraph starts, "Ayn Rand was born on February 2, 1905 [...]."
Today is February 2, 102 years later.
Ellen
___
QUOTE(Michael Stuart Kelly @ Apr 3 2006, 12:36 PM)
Here is the description of the first meeting between Barbara and Ayn Rand from The Passion of Ayn Rand, pp. 234-235. The time was March 1950 and the place was Rand's ranch home (designed by Richard Neutra) in Chatsworth, CA, near Los Angeles. Rand was 45 years old.
(snip)
Michael
QUOTE
I no longer recall what I said or what Ayn said when we were introduced and I first heard her husky, Russian-accented voice. The total of my concentration was on the visual reality of the woman who stood before me. At first, I saw only her eyes—and I had the sudden, odd feeling, a feeling gone before I could grasp it, that I was naked before those fiercely perceptive eyes, and alone—and safe. It was the beat of a long moment before I could wrench my glance away to capture the full figure.
(snip)
Michael
Michael -
I just watched "The Birth of Objecitvism - Volume 2" last night. Highly recommended. Barbara Branden's recollection of this meeting (and those eyes) is fascinating. Watch Barbara's demeanor and listen to her voice as she recalls...
Alfonso
QUOTE(Ellen Stuttle @ Apr 13 2006, 09:27 AM)
QUOTE(Charles R. Anderson)
[...] Barbara Branden's Passion of Ayn Rand [...] constantly gives me the impression that it was a work of love for Ayn Rand, not one of hate, as it is too often misrepresented.
Likewise. I keep being amazed when people interpret that book as an attempt to denigrate Rand. (I understand why people might do that: because they feel that anything which could be considered negative about Rand is a denigration. But I still feel amazed contemplating how differently such people must be reading the tone than I do.)
Ellen
___
Ellen -
Yes. Much of the book is far more a tribute to Ayn Rand. Read the last chapter out loud - inspirational writing, in tribute to an amazing person.
Alfonso
QUOTE(Philip Coates @ Apr 13 2006, 11:08 AM)
OK, after these latest posts, I'm more and more leaning toward reading Barbara's book, dammit.
I think I have a mental block about the whole field of biography and I'm not quite sure why, since I'm generally an omnivorous reader. For some reason, I don't think I will learn as much as if I read another history book, even though I'm intelligent enough to know that doesn't quite make sense, as I am interested in people and in psychology and in a good personal story. I have Benjamin Franklin's Autobiography sitting on my shelf unread for a decade, even though I love Benjamin Franklin, have heard many good things about it, and it is a classic. I also have some biographies of great scientists which I have no inclinations to crack open. Does this mean I'm a thoroughly evil person or only two-thirds??!!@#$%^*(%@
I think I have a mental block about the whole field of biography and I'm not quite sure why, since I'm generally an omnivorous reader. For some reason, I don't think I will learn as much as if I read another history book, even though I'm intelligent enough to know that doesn't quite make sense, as I am interested in people and in psychology and in a good personal story. I have Benjamin Franklin's Autobiography sitting on my shelf unread for a decade, even though I love Benjamin Franklin, have heard many good things about it, and it is a classic. I also have some biographies of great scientists which I have no inclinations to crack open. Does this mean I'm a thoroughly evil person or only two-thirds??!!@#$%^*(%@
You haven't read Passion of Ayn Rand? Stop, do not do anything else, and purchase the book. Clear your calendar for what will probably be a full day spent doing nothing except reading the book. You probably will not be able to put the book down. Barbara Branden did a magnificient job of what is actually a TRIBUTE to Ayn Rand. Her critics (quite a few of whom profess to have never read the book) betray a total lack of understanding in their attacks.
Alfonso
Alfonso; Your view of Passion is absolutely correct.
QUOTE(Chris Grieb @ Sep 11 2007, 05:54 PM)
Alfonso; Your view of Passion is absolutely correct.
Chris -
Every wonder how it can be that some read (or DON'T READ!) Passion of Ayn Rand and conclude that Barbara Branden was trying to MALIGN Ayn Rand? Branden's admiration is so visible throughout the book, especially in the crescendo in the final chapter.
Alfonso
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