Curiously enough one of her heroes, Henry Cameron, does have a beard. But in AS the heroes are all clean-shaven, so it seems she developed that strange aversion later in life.

It's no coincidence that all her heroes are well-built, strong and healthy and all the villains are ugly, fat, flabby, unhealthty.

I'd like a list of exactly which villains are described as "ugly, fat, flabby, unhealthy." ;-)

Well, "exactly" is a bit too much work, but I can give you some quotes from AS:

I really don't have the time to check the description of every character in AS, [...].

Ellen; Doesn't Mimi Gladstein's book on Atlas have what you want.

If you want something to sound attractive, be sure to make your comparison glamorous and attractive. If you want to destroy something, do the opposite.

An example of the latter is the undignified comparison in my description of Ellsworth Toohey in The Fountainhead: his ears "flared out in solitary nakedness, like the handles of a bouillon cup." It would be bad writing to say "His ears stuck out like wings," because the attribute described is unattractive, but a comparison to wings suggests something soaring and attractive. To bring connotations of something good into a derogatory description is the opposite mistake of comparing the lips of a beautiful woman to ripe tomatoes.

It is by means of the connotations of your comparisons that you can do the best objective slanted writing. By "objective," I mean that the reader's mind draws the conclusion—it is not you, the writer, who calls his attention to the fact that a certain person is ugly or undignified. To be objective, you have to show, not tell. You do it by selecting the connotations of your comparisons.

You can do the same with simple adjectives, which have definite connotations or shades of meaning. "The man was tall and slender" is an attractive description, whereas "He was tall, lanky, and gawky" is not. In description by means of comparisons, the field of selection is much wider, but the identical principle applies. You can describe the same quality as attractive or not according to what metaphors you use.

There might be a reason Rand's villains have the impression of being ugly, even when they are not. During my research for Rand on Adjectives I came across her description of the following writing technique:

[....]

That phrase "best objective slanted writing" is a real gem. In nonfiction this would be called propaganda.



For fiction, I think I prefer Poe's "single effect." Even though Poe used this as a standard for short stories, it can easily be applied to descriptions in all fiction.

Michael

I don't know what Poe's "single effect" means.

Thanks for the Cliffnotes link. The list there probably has all the main characters but it doesn't include the bit players.

Ellen

___

... But it is of his [Hawthorne's] tales that we desire principally to speak. The tale proper, in our opinion, affords unquestionably the fairest field for the exercise of the loftiest talent, which can be afforded by the wide domains of mere prose. Were we bidden to say how the highest genius could be most advantageously employed for the best display of its own powers, we should answer, without hesitation–in the composition of a rhymed poem, not to exceed in length what might be perused in an hour. Within this limit alone can the highest order of true poetry exist.

We need only here say, upon this topic, that, in almost all classes of composition, the unity of effect or impression is a point of the greatest importance. It is clear, moreover, that this unity cannot be thoroughly preserved in productions whose perusal cannot be completed at one sitting. We may continue the reading of a prose composition, from the very nature of prose itself, much longer than we can persevere, to any good purpose, in the perusal of a poem. This latter, if truly fulfilling the demands of the poetic sentiment, induces an exaltation of the soul which can not be long sustained. All high excitements are necessarily transient. Thus a long poem is a paradox. And, without unity of impression, the deepest effects cannot be brought about. Epics were the offspring of an imperfect sense of Art, and their reign is no more. A poem too brief may produce a vivid, but never an intense or enduring impression. Without a certain continuity of effort–without a certain duration or repetition of purpose–the soul is never deeply moved. There must be the dropping of the water upon the rock. De Beranger has wrought brilliant things–pungent and spirit-stirring–but, like all immassive bodies, they lack momentum, and thus fail to satisfy the Poetic Sentiment. They sparkle and excite, but, from want of continuity, fail deeply to impress. Extreme brevity will degenerate into epigrammatism; but the sin of extreme length is even more unpardonable. In medio tutissimus ibis. [You travel most safely the middle road.]

Were we called upon, however, to designate that class of composition which, next to such a poem as we have suggested, should best fulfil the demands of high genius–should offer it the most advantageous field of exertion–we should unhesitatingly speak of the prose tale, as Mr. Hawthorne has here exemplified it. We allude to the short prose narrative, requiring from a half-hour to one or two hours in its perusal. The ordinary novel is objectionable, from its length, for reasons already stated in substance. As it cannot be read at one sitting, it deprives itself, of course, of the immense force derivable from totality. Worldly interests intervening during the pauses of perusal, modify, annul, or counteract, in a greater or less degree, the impressions of the book. But simple cessation in reading would, of itself, be sufficient to destroy the true unity. In the brief tale, however, the author is enabled to carry out the fulness of his intention, be it what it may. During the hour of perusal the soul of the reader is at the writer's control. There are no external or extrinsic influences - resulting from weariness or interruption.

A skilful literary artist has constructed a tale. If wise, he has not fashioned his thoughts to accommodate his incidents; but having conceived, with deliberate care, a certain unique or single effect to be wrought out, he then invents such incidents–he then combines such events as may best aid him in establishing this preconceived effect. If his very initial sentence tend not to the outbringing of this effect, then he has failed in his first step. In the whole composition there should be no word written, of which the tendency, direct or indirect, is not to the one pre-established design. And by such means, with such care and skill, a picture is at length painted which leaves in the mind of him who contemplates it with a kindred art, a sense of the fullest satisfaction. The idea of the tale has been presented unblemished, because undisturbed; and this is an end unattainable by the novel. Undue brevity is just as exceptionable here as in the poem; but undue length is yet more to be avoided.

We have said that the tale has a point of superiority even over the poem. In fact, while the rhythm of this latter is an essential aid in the development of the poem's highest idea–the idea of the Beautiful–the artificialities of this rhythm are an inseparable bar to the development of all points of thought or expression which have their basis in Truth. But Truth is often, and in very great degree, the aim of the tale. Some of the finest tales are tales of ratiocination. Thus the field of this species of composition, if not in so elevated a region on the mountain of Mind, is a table-land of far vaster extent than the domain of the mere poem. Its products are never so rich, but infinitely more numerous, and more appreciable by the mass of mankind. The writer of the prose tale, in short, may bring to his theme a vast variety of modes or inflections of thought and expression–(the ratiocinative, for example, the sarcastic, or the humorous) which are not only antagonistical to the nature of the poem, but absolutely forbidden by one of its most peculiar and indispensable adjuncts; we allude, of course, to rhythm. It may be added here, par parenthese, that the author who aims at the purely beautiful in a prose tale is laboring at a great disadvantage. For Beauty can be better treated in the poem. Not so with terror, or passion, or horror, or a multitude of such other points. And here it will be seen how full of prejudice are the usual animadversions against those tales of effect, many fine examples of which were found in the earlier numbers of Blackwood.* The impressions produced were wrought in a legitimate sphere of action, and constituted a legitimate although sometimes an exaggerated interest. They were relished by every man of genius: although there were found many men of genius who condemned them without just ground. The true critic will but demand that the design intended be accomplished, to the fullest extent, by the means most advantageously applicable.


* Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, founded in 1817, was known for publishing Gothic tales. Poe had an ambivalent attitude toward the magazine; he imitated tales that appeared in it and also wrote "How to Write a Blackwood Article," a satiric parody of the Gothic extravagance of its stories.

I am surprised you are not familiar with Poe's standard of the single effect for short stories (which he called "prose tales").

As it cannot be read at one sitting, it deprives itself, of course, of the immense force derivable from totality. Worldly interests intervening during the pauses of perusal, modify, annul, or counteract, in a greater or less degree, the impressions of the book. But simple cessation in reading would, of itself, be sufficient to destroy the true unity. In the brief tale, however, the author is enabled to carry out the fulness of his intention, be it what it may. During the hour of perusal the soul of the reader is at the writer's control. There are no external or extrinsic influences - resulting from weariness or interruption.

I don't know if Rand was familiar with Poe's excerpt, but she had to have been familiar with the single effect standard. In fact, her manner of structuring a novel could almost be called a series of short stories, each with a single effect (but, of course, interconnected with the others and leading to a climax).

Epics were the offspring of an imperfect sense of Art, and their reign is no more.

Most here [on A2] are not the tamed "Objectivists" that you may find in abundance on other lists, although many of us have had incalculable educational contributions from Rand's thinking. That we have profited by reading Rand does not mean that we do not have other influences or independent thoughts equal to or greater than her philosophical input, as far as importance to our individual lives is concerned.

My hunch about her describing characters as "fat" and related terms is that she didn't, percentagewise, describe as many of her villains thus as she might seem to have done in memory.

About the "pale eyes" descriptions, she wasn't meaning light-colored eyes but instead lack-lustre, without spark and life. A number of her heroes -- I think most of her heroes whose eye color is mentioned -- have light-colored eyes.

Ross' description "tamed 'Objectivists'" connects to something I've been wondering about ever since I started to meet Objectivists. WHY are so many of them so "tamed," such earnest goody-goody diligently by-the-book sorts -- the last type of people I ever expected to encounter amongst persons influenced by Ayn Rand, persons so at variance with the kind of people she wrote about?

'Tis a puzzlement. Any speculations as to the whys?

Ellen

Well, here is a list of descriptions of the villains that haven't been mentioned in my previous list (based on Bidinotto's fairly complete list of characters):

Wesley Mouch had a long, square face and a flat-topped skull, made more so by a brush haircut. His lower lip was a petulant bulb and the pale, brownish pupils of his eyes looked like the yolks of eggs smeared under the not fully translucent whites.

He learned that the tall, stoop-shouldered man with a crew haircut was Mr. Wesley Mouch.

Mr. Thompson, the Head of the State, was a man who possessed the quality of never being noticed. In any group of three, his person became indistinguishable, and when seen alone it seemed to evoke a group of its own, composed of the countless persons he resembled. The country had no clear image of what he looked like: his photographs had appeared on the covers of magazines as frequently as those of his predecessors in office, but people could never be quite certain which photographs were his and which were pictures of "a mail clerk" or "a white-collar worker," accompanying articles about the daily life of the undifferentiated—except that Mr. Thompson's collars were usually wilted. He had broad shoulders and a slight body. He had stringy hair, a wide mouth and an elastic age range that made him look like a harassed forty or an unusually vigorous sixty.

Floyd Ferris:
He had an air of immaculate grooming and a ballroom grace of motion, but his clothes were severe, his suits being usually black or midnight blue. He had a finely traced mustache, and his smooth black hair made the Institute office boys say that he used the same shoe polish on both ends of him. He did not mind repeating, in the tone of a joke on himself, that a movie producer once said he would cast him for the part of a titled European gigolo.

Simon Pritchett:
Then he noticed a gangling figure in the second row, the figure of an elderly man with a long, slack face that seemed faintly familiar to him, though he could recall nothing about it, except a vague memory, as of a photograph seen in some unsavory publication.

Fred Kinnan:
They turned to him. He was a muscular man with large features, but his face had the astonishing property of finely drawn lines that raised the corners of his mouth into the permanent hint of a wise, sardonic grin.

Balph Eubank:
He sat upright on the edge of an armchair, in order to counteract the appearance of his face and figure, which had a tendency to spread if relaxed.

Bertram Scudder stood slouched against the bar. His long, thin face looked as if it had shrunk inward, with the exception of his mouth and eyeballs, which were left to protrude as three soft globes.

Mr. Mowen, of the Amalgamated Switch and Signal Company across the street, stood by, watching. He had stopped to watch, on his way home from his own plant. He wore a light overcoat stretched over his short, paunchy figure, and a derby hat over his graying, blondish head.

a slim, slouching man who looked like a rat-faced tennis player and was introduced to him as Tinky Holloway.

Kip Chalmers had curly blond hair and a shapeless mouth.

Ivy Starnes sat on a pillow like a baggy Buddha. Her mouth was a tight little crescent, the petulant mouth of a child demanding adulation—on the spreading, pallid face of a woman past fifty. Her eyes were two lifeless puddles of water.

Slagenhop was not tall or heavy, but he had a square, compact bulk, and a broken nose.

Lee Hunsacker:
He needed a shave; his shirt needed laundering. It was hard to judge his age: the swollen flesh of his face looked smooth and blank, untouched by experience; the graying hair and filmy eyes looked worn by exhaustion; he was forty-two.

At seventy, he was an obese old man with retouched hair and a manner of scornful cynicism retouched by quotations from the yogis about the futility of all human endeavor.

Eugene Lawson sat at his desk as if it were the control panel of a bomber plane commanding a continent below. But he forgot it, at times, and slouched down, his muscles going slack inside his suit, as if he were pouting at the world. His mouth was the one part of him which he could not pull tight at any time; it was uncomfortably prominent in his lean face, attracting the eyes of any listener: when he spoke, the movement ran through his lower lip, twisting its moist flesh into extraneous contortions of its own.

Dave Mitchum was six-foot-two and had the build of a bruiser

Ben Nealy was a bulky man with a soft, sullen face. His eyes were stubborn and blank. In die bluish light of the snow, his skin had the tinge of butter.

Betty Pope:
She was a lanky girl, all bones and loose joints that did not move smoothly.
She had a homely face, a bad complexion and a look of impertinent condescension derived from the fact that she belonged to one of the very best families.

Rearden’s mother:
The wrinkles of her soft chin trickled into a shape resembling a sneer.

His name was Mr. Weatherby, he had graying temples, a long, narrow face and a mouth that looked as if he had to stretch his facial muscles in order to keep it closed; this gave a suggestion of primness to a face that displayed nothing else.

Robert Stadler:
He was not tall, and his slenderness gave him an air of youthful energy, almost of boyish zest. His thin face was ageless; it was a homely face, but the great forehead and the large gray eyes held such an arresting intelligence that one could notice nothing else. There were wrinkles of humor in the corners of the eyes, and faint lines of bitterness in the corners of the mouth. He did not look like a man in his early fifties; the slightly graying hair was his only sign of age.

She had not known that a face could age so greatly within the brief space of one year: the look of timeless energy, of boyish eagerness, was gone, and nothing remained of the face except the lines of contemptuous bitterness.


I couldn't find any descriptions of Clifton Locey and Mort Liddy. My hunch was correct: nearly all the villains have negative physical traits, and a large part of those fall in the category fat, flabby, soft, shapeless, slack, and if they are thin, they have a rat-like face or protuding mouth and eyeballsand a moist underlip. They are no real characters but stereotypes.

Three villains are different:
1. Robert Stadler - he is not a villain by birth, in fact he is a genius, so he has no negative physical traits. He is an exception: a character who chooses to be a villain (at least in Rand's terms).
2. Fred Kinnan - he is a cynic who doesn't evade the truth, so no flabby bulges or loose mouth. In a sense you could say that he also chooses to be a villain.
3. Floyd Ferris - he is a bit too "beautiful", the type of a gigolo.



Oh no, Rand knew what she wrote, when she used "pale" she did mean color. Lillian's eyes "they were vaguely pale, neither quite gray nor brown," - the "neither quite gray nor brown" is obviously an elaboration on the "vaguely pale". Even more explicit is the description of Mouch's eyes: "the pale, brownish pupils of his eyes looked like the yolks of eggs smeared under the not fully translucent whites." Observe that the eyes are not "brown" but "brownish". Having eyes with a color that is a bit undefinable is apparently sign of a bad character. Rearden's eyes may have "the color and quality of pale blue ice", but they would never be like "the yolks of eggs smeared under the not fully translucent whites". This is of course quite ironic, as eye color is a completely genetically determined trait, which contradicts Rand's statements about being born with a blank slate. I wonder how Objectivists will try to weasel out of this.

About that blank slate: when searching in AS I was struck by the following passage about Francisco d'Anconia: "It was as if the centuries had sifted the family's qualities through a fine mesh, had discarded the irrelevant, the inconsequential, the weak, and had let nothing through except pure talent; as if chance, for once, had achieved an entity devoid of the accidental."

Compare this with her statement: "'No one is born with any kind of 'talent'". If that isn't a contradiction...

My hunch was correct: nearly all the villains have negative physical traits, and a large part of those fall in the category fat, flabby, soft, shapeless, slack, and if they are thin, they have a rat-like face or protuding mouth and eyeballsand a moist underlip. They are no real characters but stereotypes.

Oh no, Rand knew what she wrote, when she used "pale" she did mean color. Lillian's eyes "they were vaguely pale, neither quite gray nor brown," - the "neither quite gray nor brown" is obviously an elaboration on the "vaguely pale". Even more explicit is the description of Mouch's eyes: "the pale, brownish pupils of his eyes looked like the yolks of eggs smeared under the not fully translucent whites." Observe that the eyes are not "brown" but "brownish". Having eyes with a color that is a bit undefinable is apparently sign of a bad character. Rearden's eyes may have "the color and quality of pale blue ice", but they would never be like "the yolks of eggs smeared under the not fully translucent whites". This is of course quite ironic, as eye color is a completely genetically determined trait, which contradicts Rand's statements about being born with a blank slate. I wonder how Objectivists will try to weasel out of this.

About that blank slate: when searching in AS I was struck by the following passage about Francisco d'Anconia: "It was as if the centuries had sifted the family's qualities through a fine mesh, had discarded the irrelevant, the inconsequential, the weak, and had let nothing through except pure talent; as if chance, for once, had achieved an entity devoid of the accidental."

Compare this with her statement: "'No one is born with any kind of 'talent'". If that isn't a contradiction...

I think that you're overlooking (a) a nicety of grammar; (b ) Rand's city of residence.

Notice she's quoted as having said "those so-called kneeling buses." "So-called" indicates non-literal usage; "so-called" and scare quotes are equivalents. Rand knew English grammar well. Further, she said "those so-called," which sounds as if she had a visual image.

Rand lived in New York City, and she didn't keep completely within the confines of her apartment, though she didn't get out a lot. I can't recall exactly when the trial fleet of kneeling buses was put into operation, but I think it was before the Donahue appearance and that she'd likely have seen actual examples of the buses, not just photos in the newspapers. (I'm not industrious enough, at least at the moment, to try to track down when kneeling buses started to appear in NYC.)

Hi Ellen,

I would suggest that they, like everyone else, are human first, and o'ists second. By that I mean that they do not have the background in philosophy/critical thinking to actively, and accurately apply o'ist or philosophical principles to everyday life.

For example, when I first read AS (probably 1991 or 1992 after it appeared on that Book of the Month Club "Most Influential" list), it was a miracle! Here was everything I had been thinking my whole life, wrapped up in a book that I could read and it wasn't "National Review" or some philosophy textbook.

But by no means did that book show me the way to learn to think, not by a long shot. Now, 16 years later, I know a LOT more, but I still don't have all the answers. More to your point, I KNOW I hit what some would consider the "blank out". Not because I'm not willing to go farther, but because I don't know how, or I don't understand a "why" somewhere--I'm not blanking out, I'm hitting a wall.

Additionally, it can be hard to get help past that wall. On any number of these sites or lists, asking questions or making a point is really just an invitation to get attacked, or for others to grandstand about you. I don't take that personally, I find it kinda funny really and that crap isn't worth the electrons used to display it, but wading through all that can be a lot of work to NOT find the help you needed.

So for a lot of people who are pretty sure they really aren't going to come across deep philosophical dilemmas in their day to day life, delving into the deep deep details, or reading "free will" discussions on Atlantis II in detail isn't that important to them. They may have either free will or the illusion of free will, but either way it is sufficient for them to live their lives happily.

I used to be on the old SOLO e-mail list, have been a part of the various Atlantis e-mail groups, the NB Yahoo group, et cetera[.]

The after ban block will only last 48 hours, tops. After that, feel free to sign up again, they don't track IP addresses so you won't be noticed.

Its sad I know that.

However, being banned so many times from the site I have it down to a science.

I believe Ellen and Dragonfly overlook two important words in the quote from Ayn Rand about Francisco d'Anconia -- "as if".

Also, not directed only at them, I believe many people misinterpret the analogy. "Blank slate" does not mean "no slate".

Hi, Rush. It's been awhile. I hope life is generally going well for you.

I'm feeling at a loss about how to answer your post. I think that it's not talking about what I was meaning, and I don't know what to say about what it seems you are talking about. You seem to be addressing Objectivism's not providing answers to life questions, which, no, it doesn't provide. But the sort of people I have in mind talk and act as if they believe Objectivism has provided all the answers.

A question: Have you met many Objectivists? I looked up your profile; I find this description of your list participation: ~snip~ What's the "et cetera"? Have you been on ObjectivismOnline? ForumforAynRand fans?

I don't know what the old SOLO e-mail list was like, since I was never on that. NB's group had quite a mix of people. The Atlantis crowd, the main crowd, is a tough bunch. Few of the main posters are Objectivists. They're mostly well-read and hard-arguing -- give no quarter. Not the place to ask for supportiveness. (A2 is pretty much a ghost town these days, as I expect you know; you've posted a few things recently. I'm talking more about its heyday; but there are still folks posting there with whom you...don't jibe too well.)

Your comment about "blank out": What she meant by that was a refusal to think. You seem to be talking about reaching a place in your thoughts where you don't know how to go farther.

I think you'd probably find, if you wanted to pose questions here, that you'd be minimally attacked or used as an opportunity for grandstanding. Not that those activities are never engaged in here, but not nearly so often as on more typical O'ist lists.

Nice to hear from you again! --Ellen

[....] The free will discussions, aside from being beyond me at the time, would have struck me (as they often do somewhat now) as an exercise in arguing about possible shades of meaning of words in English, how the participants mean or interpret those shades, and how to ram that meaning or interpretation down someone else's throat. My point, I guess, was that the people you are referring to may act and believe that way simply because they are happy with what they know and do not know, or do not have the tools or experience to know any different. Take for example, the "force and fraud" business. It never would have crossed my mind back then to break the two out.

Those [ObjectivismOnline and Forum4AynRandFans] sound familiar, but I purged a lot of stuff 2003-2004 when I went back to school, I don't really remember. But "met?" No, never once that I know of. A few people who have loved the books, but who have never gotten any farther.

Yeah, and that's fine [re A2]. As I've said before, I never set the tone around there, but I sure rubbed some people the wrong way. That's fine, they seem to be perfectly happy doing that intentionally to others.

And yes, I get that, I know what she meant by the term. But my point was that to some people, my inexperience, or lack of a real philosophical foundation, would come across as a blank out as I sought to defend whatever position I had taken.

Ellen Moore of course considered herself an Objectivist, but she was a phenomenon onto herself, by no means "typical" of anyone except herself. (The past tense is because she died last year, on or about Veteran's Day. I was sad to hear of her passing. Despite -- or, maybe, because of -- how stubborn she could be and how aggravating, I was fond of her.)

They revel in it -- the particular ones who were the main ones. But those particular ones aren't Objectivists and aren't representatives of what I meant. Far from it.

I don't remember hearing that Ellen Moore had died. I knew that Larry Fullmer was gone, and I heard something about "Jason Alexander's" passing as well, including someone mentioning his real name.

Has anyone else from the old Atlantis or A2 days died? I see some of the old familiar names on other sites, but some names I haven't seen in years.

Oddly enough, I never personally faced much nastiness from the Atlantis main crowd. [....] I don't remember any of those who might usually be thought of as the "big attack dogs" -- Ghs, RL, JR, JO, etc. -- ever coming after me, even when I disagreed with them. I can't remember a single incident in which any of those four were anything but courteous with me.

[I don't agree with your reading there. The context pertaining to the eyes on this thread was people's mock-worrying about having hazel eyes being a bad sign for Rand hero-dom. It wouldn't be.

Eyes like Lillian's and Mouch's I'd take as a character sign. She might not have well enough described what I'm getting from the description. Character does show in eyes. It isn't really the color though. It's a missing light.

The passage about Francisco is in glaring contradiction to her statement that "No one is born with any kind of 'talent.'" The contradiction was pointed out on that SOLOHQ thread about her "blank slate" views, if you remember the thread I mean -- you were a participant.

The point is that she does describe the colors very explicitly. And Rand doesn't write something without purpose. Neither does she use a neutral term like "hazel", no she writes: "pale, brownish pupils of his eyes looked like the yolks of eggs smeared under the not fully translucent whites", which is obviously meant as the description of something distasteful.

And: The eyes were the flaw: they were vaguely pale, neither quite gray nor brown, lifelessly empty of expression [emphasis added] She means it: vagely pale eyes, neither quite gray nor brown are a flaw.

Agreed that it's obviously meant as the description of something distasteful. And distasteful is just what I find the look of such eyes: gaaky, tummy-turning, eyes that are signs of a debauched life style -- or possibly the result of liver problems from a cause other than excess boozing and poor eating habits. But the full context of Mouch's description indicates life style as the cause.

Not eyes that are simply not quite gray nor brown, but eyes that are vaguely so with a lifeless emptiness of expression. A character trait is being revealed here, a result of the sort of person Lillian is. Likewise for the other descriptions. The heroes are clear-eyed.

Eyes are "the windows of the soul." She isn't just talking genetics of eye color; she's conveying psychological qualities of the persons.

"Windows of the soul" is unscientific crap that belongs in the same category as phrenology or Lombroso's theories. You cannot determine the character of a person on the basis of the color of his irises.

For another, she isn't coupling the character trait being conveyed in Lillian's description with "genetically determined factors." She isn't saying that someone whose eyes are "not quite gray nor brown" therefore has bad character. It's the expression that's conveying the character.

"Windows of the soul" is metaphor and not in the least "unscientific." Quite a bit about a person is revealed by the person's eyes. But the issue isn't that of "determin[ing] the character of a person on the basis of the color of his irises." It's the total look of the eyes.

About Lillian: I feel that I know just what those eyes look like from Rand's description: those of a woman who's a snake in female form, to use another metaphor. I have met such women. I wouldn't be surprised if you have too.

No, of course she doesn't present a theoretical treatise about the connection between color of the iris and character, but it's obvious that she does make that link, if you read the examples I've quoted. She doesn't merely mention the expression of the eyes, but gives extensive descriptions of the colors, implying that these are relevant. Her examples are telling enough: heroes have monochromatic irises (cool blue, metallic green, gunmetal grey) while villains have irises with pale brownish, muddy colors. The symbolism is obvious, and very crude.

It's still pseudoscience, as it is about subjective impressions for which no objective data exist.

But even if there were some validity in it, the point is that Rand isn't so much talking about the "total look", but repeatedly describes the color of the "pupils" (read "irises"), as if that is important (and not just an irrelevant detail).

Do you really think that snake-like women can't have brilliant blue or green eyes?

So, so, so typical.

How someone can read AS or TH and not see the link between physical description and character is something only a truly dedicated philosophical detective can do.

DF, do you really think a literary artist is supposed to be "scientific"? Of course the bad guys wear black hats.

So, so, so typical.

How someone can read AS or TH and not see the link between physical description and character is something only a truly dedicated philosophical detective can do.

Well, if that artist claims to be the champion of rationality and reason, she shouldn't make extensive use of unscientific clichés. Wearing a black hat or being covered with tattoos is a choice which perhaps may tell us something about the character of the person, the color of his eyes isn't. I'd expect such an actor to focus on the actions of the persons, not on their genetic endowment, especially if that author defends the notion of the blank slate. And she doesn't only use it as a literary device. For example in her article about the Watergate hearings she writes about John Dean 3rd: "Dean's face, with its rodent-like jaw structure, was almost unbearable to watch. It is probable that he doesn't look quite so sordidly contemptible in person; but the television camera reveals too much." Conclusion: a person is contemptible if he has a jaw structure like that of a rat.

I disagree that she is saying -- as any sort of factual statement -- that there's a link between the color of the irises and character.

I'll make the point this way in regard to what I think she thought: I much doubt that if someone had asked Ayn Rand, "Ayn, do you think that iris color is diagnostic of character?" she would have answered in the affirmative.

Also, a point about what she DID, in real life. A number of the folk classifiable as members of the "Inner Circle" have or had (some of them are deceased) betwixt-and-between and/or pale iris coloration -- including Leonard Peikoff (vaguely brownish) and Allan Blumenthal (pale blueish). I can't recall even once having heard so much as mention of AR's being suspicious of the character of any of these people on the basis of the color of their irises.

She was reported as expressing suspicions, for example -- an important example -- of Allan Blumenthal on the basis of his tastes in music, and on the basis of other issues. But not ever that I heard tell of on the basis of his eye color (or of his height -- he's short; most of her heroic characters are tall -- or of any other physical characteristic, though I can't think of any other physical characteristic of his which is of the sort she attributes to her villainous characters: eye color and height would be the only ones that overlap with some of her villain descriptions).