Why did Dagny and Hank assume the motor had been invented by a single man?

[Brant Gaede]

On p. 1036 (Signet PB, middle of part III, ch. VIII), Eddie chooses to stay and fight for the railroad. Dagny, because she cares about his welfare, tries to get him not to and says that it is too dangerous. But he is adamant.

So the point about Eddie simply being abandoned to death with no one caring about him or wanting to save him is COMPLETELY FALSE as a matter of simple fact.

(For chrissake, can't people even go look something up in the book to see if their recollections are accurate before they make wild charges? Dammit!)

Oh, I know that passage quite well, here is the essential part:

"I can't leave New York," she answered stonily.

"I know," he said softly. "That's why it's I who'll go there to straighten things out. At least, to find a man to put in charge.”

"No! I don't want you to. It's too dangerous. And what for? It doesn't matter now. There's nothing to save."

"It's still Taggart Transcontinental. I'll stand by it, Dagny, wherever you go, you'll always be able to build a railroad. I couldn't. I don't even

want to make a new start. Not any more. Not after what I've seen. You should. I can't. Let me do what I can."

"Eddie! Don't you want—" She stopped, knowing that it was useless.

"All right, Eddie. If you wish."

Dagny wanting to save Eddie? The only "attempts" are: "No! I don't want you to" and an unfinished sentence, "knowing that is was useless". Well, that is giving up very quickly if she really cared about what would happen with Eddie. This passage conveys clearly that she really doesn't care much about his fate. How does she know that trying to convince him would be useless? In her place I would have been convinced that Eddie had no realistic appreciation of the danger and/or that he was in a depressive state (which would be quite understandable), from which I'd at least try to get him away to see things more positively. But no such empathy with Dagny, within a few seconds she already gives up.

All this falderol adds up to is the fact that Atlas Shrugged is plot driven, not character driven.

--Brant

[Jonathan]

Dagny wanting to save Eddie? The only "attempts" are: "No! I don't want you to" and an unfinished sentence, "knowing that is was useless". Well, that is giving up very quickly if she really cared about what would happen with Eddie. This passage conveys clearly that she really doesn't care much about his fate. How does she know that trying to convince him would be useless? In her place I would have been convinced that Eddie had no realistic appreciation of the danger and/or that he was in a depressive state (which would be quite understandable), from which I'd at least try to get him away to see things more positively. But no such empathy with Dagny, within a few seconds she already gives up.

"I can't leave New York," she answered stonily.

"I know," he said softly. "That's why it's I who'll go there to straighten things out. At least, to find a man to put in charge.”

"No! I don't want you to. It's too dangerous. And what for? It doesn't matter now. There's nothing to save."

"It's still Taggart Transcontinental. I'll stand by it, Dagny, wherever you go, you'll always be able to build a railroad. I couldn't. I don't even want to make a new start. Not any more. Not after what I've seen. You should. I can't. Let me do what I can."

"Eddie! Don't you want—" She paused.

"Eddie," she said, "I'm sorry, but I haven't been fair with you. There are things I haven't told you, things that you need to know. There's still hope. Listen. The world is going to hell, but would you believe me if I told you that heaven exists? Well, it does. John Galt, along with Frisco and Ragnar Danneskjöld, have a secret valley, hidden away where the looters will never find it, and it's filled with our kind of people — achievers, creators, great minds, and people who want to be free; the people whom John Galt has taken from the world. You'll be safe there, and more — you'll be reborn. You want that, don't you? To get back that feeling we had when we were children on my family's estate, where each new day promised an exciting adventure? I know you want it. There will be no more talk of your leaving. You're staying with me until the time that we both go to the valley together. I insist. You're much too valuable to me to let you go. Do you understand me, old friend? I mean that you're too valuable to me, Eddie, not to Taggart Transcontinental. As your employer, I'm ordering you not to go, and as a friend who loves you, I'm asking you to see that there is a way to make a new beginning."

[Brant Gaede]

Dagny wanting to save Eddie? The only "attempts" are: "No! I don't want you to" and an unfinished sentence, "knowing that is was useless". Well, that is giving up very quickly if she really cared about what would happen with Eddie. This passage conveys clearly that she really doesn't care much about his fate. How does she know that trying to convince him would be useless? In her place I would have been convinced that Eddie had no realistic appreciation of the danger and/or that he was in a depressive state (which would be quite understandable), from which I'd at least try to get him away to see things more positively. But no such empathy with Dagny, within a few seconds she already gives up.

"I can't leave New York," she answered stonily.

"I know," he said softly. "That's why it's I who'll go there to straighten things out. At least, to find a man to put in charge."

"No! I don't want you to. It's too dangerous. And what for? It doesn't matter now. There's nothing to save."

"It's still Taggart Transcontinental. I'll stand by it, Dagny, wherever you go, you'll always be able to build a railroad. I couldn't. I don't even want to make a new start. Not any more. Not after what I've seen. You should. I can't. Let me do what I can."

"Eddie! Don't you want—" She paused.

"Eddie," she said, "I'm sorry, but I haven't been fair with you. There are things I haven't told you, things that you need to know. There's still hope. Listen. The world is going to hell, but would you believe me if I told you that heaven exists? Well, it does. John Galt, along with Frisco and Ragnar Danneskjöld, have a secret valley, hidden away where the looters will never find it, and it's filled with our kind of people — achievers, creators, great minds, and people who want to be free; the people whom John Galt has taken from the world. You'll be safe there, and more — you'll be reborn. You want that, don't you? To get back that feeling we had when we were children on my family's estate, where each new day promised an exciting adventure? I know you want it. There will be no more talk of your leaving. You're staying with me until the time that we both go to the valley together. I insist. You're much too valuable to me to let you go. Do you understand me, old friend? I mean that you're too valuable to me, Eddie, not to Taggart Transcontinental. As your employer, I'm ordering you not to go, and as a friend who loves you, I'm asking you to see that there is a way to make a new beginning."

Anyone else want at this? AS is like, you know, written by like, you know, one person like, you know, Ayn Rand, you know, and good luck like, you know, improving it, you know, like since you don't like, you know.

--Brant

a better world, like, you know, awaits, you know--just get rid of Rand, you know for the Rand you don't know, you know

I know J wasn't trying to better Rand but to show up nonsense

Edited October 30, 2009 by Brant Gaede

[Jonathan]

I know J wasn't trying to better Rand but to show up nonsense

My purpose was to give an example of how a romantic version of me, in the role of Dagny, might try to stop a despondent friend from going off on a dangerous, pointless mission.

J

[Philip Coates]

Subject: I Can't Believe I Have to Make Another Post on This

> Well, that is giving up very quickly if she really cared about what would happen with Eddie. This passage conveys clearly that she really doesn't care much about his fate. [Dragonfly]

Your second sentence doesn't follow from your first. And adding the word "clearly" doesn't help.

Dagny doesn't say 'don't go' out of politeness. She means what she says when she expresses concern. Dagny always means what she says -- haven't you noticed, Mr. 8 time reader?

Quite simply, as the author of this novel has specifically indicated, she isn't "giving up quickly". She knows it's futile to argue. The novelist does not have to tell you when and why she knows someone can't be convinced in a novel that is already very long. The author is the narrator in a passage of this kind. You are supposed to read it as a statement of fact by the author in a work of literature. She knows Eddie, respects his decisions, and knows when he has made a definite decision.

Eddie is not ready to go on strike. He has already made it clear he will fight to the end to save the railroad.

And the likelihood that he will die if he leaves NYC to rescue the Comet and come back is not clear. Things are going bad everywhere. Hardly likely that San Francisco is that much more unsafe. Dagny didn't say [or think] "you will die". She said and thought "it's dangerous."

"Don't you want to --" Go on strike? No he doesn't. Dagny didn't until very recently. Eddie's morality is that will do his duty to the end. Anything else is unthinkable. [Perhaps after the 6th reading, you might have got this??]

None of this is difficult to understand.

Edited October 31, 2009 by Philip Coates

[Brant Gaede]

I know J wasn't trying to better Rand but to show up nonsense

My purpose was to give an example of how a romantic version of me, in the role of Dagny, might try to stop a despondent friend from going off on a dangerous, pointless mission.

J

Fair enough, but Dagny's character is traduced. I do think Eddie's character is too much and not enough--that is, he's a glorified secretary. Not enough. Too close to Dagny from childhood. Too much. Think how interesting if he had grown up to be a renowned painter after his childhood friendship. They'd stil be in touch and Galt would have to pump him for information in other circumstances.

--Brant

PS: In her NBI BPO lecture on writing AR rewrote an early part of The Fountainhead--the conversation between Roark and Keating--to make Roark's responses to Keating in conversation conventional to the audience's amused dismay. It wiped out Roark's character. I thought you were doing the same with Dagny.

[jeffrey smith]

I know J wasn't trying to better Rand but to show up nonsense

My purpose was to give an example of how a romantic version of me, in the role of Dagny, might try to stop a despondent friend from going off on a dangerous, pointless mission.

J

Fair enough, but Dagny's character is traduced. I do think Eddie's character is too much and not enough--that is, he's a glorified secretary. Not enough. Too close to Dagny from childhood. Too much. Think how interesting if he had grown up to be a renowned painter after his childhood friendship. They'd stil be in touch and Galt would have to pump him for information in other circumstances.

--Brant

PS: In her NBI BPO lecture on writing AR rewrote an early part of The Fountainhead--the conversation between Roark and Keating--to make Roark's responses to Keating in conversation conventional to the audience's amused dismay. It wiped out Roark's character. I thought you were doing the same with Dagny.

I recall seeing that reworked conversation in print--Romantic Manifesto, I'm fairly sure. Perhaps someone can supply a reference. The point of the printed version was exactly the same as in the lecture--to illustrate how changing the character's dialogue impacted on the character, and vice versa.

Jeffrey S.

[Jonathan]

Dagny doesn't say 'don't go' out of politeness. She means what she says when she expresses concern. Dagny always means what she says -- haven't you noticed, Mr. 8 time reader?

If Dagny always means what she says, then "No, I don't want you to go" means "No, I don't want you to go," and Eddie would know that it's futile to argue with her.

Quite simply, as the author of this novel has specifically indicated, she isn't "giving up quickly". She knows it's futile to argue. The novelist does not have to tell you when and why she knows someone can't be convinced in a novel that is already very long. The author is the narrator in a passage of this kind. You are supposed to read it as a statement of fact by the author in a work of literature. She knows Eddie, respects his decisions, and knows when he has made a definite decision.

You must have a very odd view of employer-employee relationships in general if you think that it's futile for a high-ranking corporate executive to argue with an assistant about his desire to do something that she doesn't want him to do, and of Dagny's relationship with Eddie in particular if you think that it would present the slightest difficulty for her to bend him to her will.

J

[Xray]

Dagny doesn't say 'don't go' out of politeness. She means what she says when she expresses concern. Dagny always means what she says -- haven't you noticed, Mr. 8 time reader?

If Dagny always means what she says, then "No, I don't want you to go" means "No, I don't want you to go," and Eddie would know that it's futile to argue with her.

Quite simply, as the author of this novel has specifically indicated, she isn't "giving up quickly". She knows it's futile to argue. The novelist does not have to tell you when and why she knows someone can't be convinced in a novel that is already very long. The author is the narrator in a passage of this kind. You are supposed to read it as a statement of fact by the author in a work of literature. She knows Eddie, respects his decisions, and knows when he has made a definite decision.

You must have a very odd view of employer-employee relationships in general if you think that it's futile for a high-ranking corporate executive to argue with an assistant about his desire to do something that she doesn't want him to do, and of Dagny's relationship with Eddie in particular if you think that it would present the slightest difficulty for her to bend him to her will.

J

That hits the nail on the head, Jonathan.

Excellent argumentation also in your #238 post.

Thanks as well for giving the important links in #213 and #216.

Edited October 31, 2009 by Xray

[Philip Coates]

Subject: The Brutal, Inexorable Logic of Part III --> James Taggart

Are the multiple total collapses and total destruction seen in Part III both real and desirable? Would it happen this way in real life or in the people around you?

James Taggart becomes catatonic, as the most extreme example, while the other bad guys continue to scurry and scramble and try to save their necks or cling to power. We see him consistently lusting to destroy and resentful throughout his life. Fighting with growing anxiety not to admit that this is at the heart of him, not the successful and clever mixed economy businessman.

He's not a carbon copy of the other villains. Take Lillian. She is slick, smooth, composed, polished where Jimmy is erratic, volatile, raging. She knows she is a parasite and is comfortable with that, not fighting to evade it. Both characters end up "destroyed" in A is A. The "air" goes out of Lillian. And Taggart's mind breaks as he realizes that he is a killer for the sake of killing.

First question: Are there literal Lillians and Taggarts, down to the finest detail, all around us in the real world? Second question: Do famous people or colleagues act this way, follow these motivations through a lifetime, become destroyed? Do L and T represent unreal archetypes, stripped of needed complexity? Is simplification valid, either literarily or psychologically?

Millions of readers say "Yes, I have met James Taggart [or] I have met Lillian Reardens. This portrayal is very illuminating. It brings to life what being a parasite or wanting to bring down one's betters looks like very vividly and clearly. It shows how people with such dominant traits -can- end up if followed to their logical conclusion, even if they aren't always in our world."

Millions of readers say "No, people are more complex mixtures of good and bad than that. They are cardboard, simplistic villains because people are not that consistent, not complete bad guys in life. And they don't just simply end up destroyed, but continue to function with the bad traits submerged by the good ones."

Edited October 31, 2009 by Philip Coates

[Brant Gaede]

quote:

"But how much individualism did she grant to those who disagreed with points of her philosophy?" (Xray)

Individualism--freedom--is not granted.

I may have chosen the wrong term in using "grant"; what I meant was 'allow, concede'.

So here is the question rephrased:

But how much individualism did she allow those who disagreed with points of her philosophy?

A lot until the philosophy was thoroughly explained to you and you had read Atlas Shrugged--then not at all regarding your philosophical ideas. As for her one on one personal relationships, especially since they tended during and after the writing of AS to be with people a generation if not more younger, not very much in so far as we can ascertain and infer by reading others' accounts. As far as I can tell it was the tremendous energy and intelligence of Nathaniel Branden that made the "Collective" possible and held it together. Nathaniel was the true entrepreneur of Objectivism and what he accomplished is what Leonard Peikoff was able to live off subsequent to the break and Rand's death. All that ARI business is foundationed, really, on NBI. And that NBI was so successful had much to do with Barbara Branden, not just Nathaniel. I don't think people who weren't in NYC fully appreciate how Objectivism in its own tight way in the 1960s was a cultural-intellectual force and how that was dissipated with the closure of NBI. A lot of good people simply packed their bags after learning a hard lesson.

--Brant

[Selene]

Brant:

100% Correct.

This town glowed with the intellectual radiance that came out of the foundation of the Empire State Building. I read passages from the Newsletter publicly at School Board Meetings.

It was perfect.

And yes, those of us who were prepared to see the cracks in the foundation did precisely what you stated. We packed our bags and armed with "the ideas" changed the small parts of the world we traversed.

More importantly, we have changed individual persons. Just taking longer than I thought.

Well put, Brant.

Adam

[BaalChatzaf]

Brant:

100% Correct.

This town glowed with the intellectual radiance that came out of the foundation of the Empire State Building. I read passages from the Newsletter publicly at School Board Meetings.

How could the foundation of the Empire State Building glow? It is underground.

Ba'al Chatzaf

[Philip Coates]

They installed a metaphor bulb.

[Philip Coates]

Subject: Unrealistic?

> Millions of readers say "Yes, I have met James Taggart [or] I have met Lillian Reardens. This portrayal is very illuminating. It brings to life what being a parasite or wanting to bring down one's betters looks like very vividly and clearly. It shows how people with such dominant traits -can- end up if followed to their logical conclusion, even if they aren't always in our world." Millions of readers say "No, people are more complex mixtures of good and bad than that. They are cardboard, simplistic villains because people are not that consistent, not complete bad guys in life. And they don't just simply end up destroyed, but continue to function with the bad traits submerged by the good ones." [Phil]

Since no one else has yet answered the above, a few points:

Lillian and Stadler are types that people know exist - the social climbing parasitical wife; the disillusioned world-weary great intellect. So Taggart is the acid test, the most extreme character. Many people find him unbelievable. How did this guy get power, even in as rotten or decayed a world as projected in Atlas? Can he even exist?

James Taggart is not a fully rounded character. He is not like Toohey or Keating in having as wide a range of his traits portrayed, or being given as much 'screen time'. And human beings who are motivated to such a large extent, so enviously by the lust to destroy are arguably not what one meets often.

But there -are- such people. Anti-semites, people like Hitler, who, even when they have power and no longer need scapegoats, want to kill every last Jew are the most publicized and best known example.

But what about the characterization of Taggart as so desirous or hurting, torturing Galt, even if he doesn't survive him? Well, along those lines think of all the resentful people that Al Qaeda recruits as terrorists, some of who are literally willing to blow themselves up as suicide bombers.

What about Rand's point that there are people who are anti-life, don't even want to be alive? (Taggart? The guard who found taking a bullet was preferable to having to choose?) This wouldn't have seemed as plausible to me - that there are people like that - as it is over the last ten or more years, when we have learned more and more about the Islamofascists and their dark world.

More importantly, who ever said every character in good literature has to be three-dimensional, fully rounded? In fact, having someone stripped down to a few simple traits can be very illluminating. I don't need to know what Taggart's sense of humor is like, since that doesn't add to the purpose he serves in the novel. Perhaps how he dresses, if it's like an Ivy League preppie might make him more real to me, make me think of Wall Streeters or businessmen I might have seen on the subway. (It -is- helpful to know how Lillian dresses.)

But that actually narrows down the number of people Taggart could serve as an archetype or symbol of, the way in which he more broadly represents even more people who have renounced the mind in a certain way. He represents every homicidally envious man or woman - from the serial killer who collects heads in his fridge to the union leader who would be happy to bring his employer to his knees, even if all the jobs go overseas. Anyone who has ever had a maniacal, barely uncontrolled, snarling and straining at the leash lust to destroy. Even if not as famous as Hitler.

So Taggart is not fully fleshed out, but held down to certain essential traits. And that is 'realistic' in the sense that people can be like that, even if they are few...and even if they hide that trait. Even from themselves.

[Philip Coates]

DF, by the way, I've been meaning to ask, why read a book for which you have such contempt (Atlas) 8 times?

[jeffrey smith]

Subject: Unrealistic?

Lillian and Stadler are types that people know exist - the social climbing parasitical wife; the disillusioned world-weary great intellect. So Taggart is the acid test, the most extreme character. Many people find him unbelievable. How did this guy get power, even in as rotten or decayed a world as projected in Atlas? Can he even exist?

James Taggart is not a fully rounded character. He is not like Toohey or Keating in having as wide a range of his traits portrayed, or being given as much 'screen time'. And human beings who are motivated to such a large extent, so enviously by the lust to destroy are arguably not what one meets often.

But there -are- such people. Anti-semites, people like Hitler, who, even when they have power and no longer need scapegoats, want to kill every last Jew are the most publicized and best known example.

But what about the characterization of Taggart as so desirous or hurting, torturing Galt, even if he doesn't survive him? Well, along those lines think of all the resentful people that Al Qaeda recruits as terrorists, some of who are literally willing to blow themselves up as suicide bombers.

What about Rand's point that there are people who are anti-life, don't even want to be alive? (Taggart? The guard who found taking a bullet was preferable to having to choose?) This wouldn't have seemed as plausible to me - that there are people like that - as it is over the last ten or more years, when we have learned more and more about the Islamofascists and their dark world.

The difference between Taggart and the real world examples you cite is that Taggart is completely nihilistic, whereas the others are not. They believe in life--a twisted, chimerical, perverted form of life that does not actually exist--but still a life. The homicide bomber does not expect to cease to exist--he expects to gain life in Paradise with the seventy virgin chorus.

The only one that comes close is Hitler--and not the Hitler who decreed the Shoah, but the Hitler who in the last days of WWII wanted to turn Germany to a heap of smoking ruins simply because he didn't want it to survive himself.

I think the most telling character in AS is one of the ones that Rand didn't put into the novel: the one she called Father Amadeus in the journal extracts that were published by Leonard P. This is the one who "honestly believes in the morality of mercy"--don't have the book in front of me (it's in work--yes, I did get it at last: at the moment I'm only a few pages in, with Dagny on the train) so I can't cite it exactly--but I was rather thrown by LP's comment that Rand dropped the character because she couldn't make him credible. To me, the fact that she couldn't transfer to the page that sort of person--a type that exists on every side of us, that we meet every day in daily life--that she couldn't at least borrow it from well known historical examples like St. Francis or John Wesley, or the "holy fool" that runs deep in Russian tradition and literature (and not just there: such characters show up, for instance, in Hugo)--says a lot to me about her limitations.

[Philip Coates]

> The difference between Taggart and the real world examples you cite is that Taggart is completely nihilistic, whereas the others are not. They believe in life...

Well, so does Jim until he falls apart at the end. He's desperately trying to keep his business and thus his survival going.

> The only one that comes close is Hitler...who in the last days of WWII wanted to turn Germany to a heap of smoking ruins simply because he didn't want it to survive himself.

I pointed out that whether or not Taggart is 'realistic' is not a matter of how many are like him. Or - a point I didn't make - even a little like him.

I think the most telling character in AS is one of the ones that Rand didn't put into the novel: the one she called Father Amadeus...who "honestly believes in the morality of mercy"...I was rather thrown by LP's comment that Rand dropped the character because she couldn't make him credible...that she couldn't transfer to the page that sort of person--a type that exists on every side of us...says a lot to me about her limitations.

I wouldn't necessarily take P's word for her literary inability. (I seem to recall her having done such a character, but I can't recall in what novel or play or short story???) It may have been, as it was in Fntnhd when she cut characters, that there was not enough space. Or that she thought it was more important to skewer those who were power lusters.

[Dragonfly]

DF, by the way, I've been meaning to ask, why read a book for which you have such contempt (Atlas) 8 times?

1. Where did you get the idea that I read it only 8 times? I've repeatedly said that I've read it about a dozen times. I no longer know the exact amount, but it was at least more than 10. That I was so enthusiastic then was due to my youth and lack of experience. Not that I didn't see drawbacks, but I tended to ignore or repress them.

2. Where do I say that I have such contempt for the book? In a previous post I wrote: "If you want to judge the qualities of a novel, you cannot focus only on the better parts and ignore everything that is not so good, you'll have to consider the total of all factors. As I said before, when I was young I thought the balance was positive. Now it has become definitely negative to me."

So I only say that today for me the negative aspects outweigh the positive ones. Well, if you no longer adore something on your knees while you see too many flaws, that doesn't automatically imply that you have contempt for it. That is a false dichotomy (whoever is not with me is against me...).

[Xray]

More importantly, who ever said every character in good literature has to be three-dimensional, fully rounded? In fact, having someone stripped down to a few simple traits can be very illluminating.

Of course an author cannot (and need not) flesh out every character in a novel in detail, especially the minor figures.

But when a main character like Jim Taggart is that two-dimensionsional that he comes across mostly as as a whining sissy who is also pretty mean - this is a flaw imo because it can border on the comical. At times, I got the association of an obnoxious immature brat in an adult body.

As for the minor characters, Rand often presented them as so distorted that, frankly, I asked myself whether she really knew what she was writing about.

Example: the scene where Cherryl runs out of the house in a panic after Jim struck her in the face.

Cherry is so shocked that she lapses into a state which comes close to a psychotic break imo.

I can see this happening in real life too: that a person having experienced domestic violence and her whole word breaking down, would just run out of her home at night.

But what I cannot see is that a social worker (whom Cherryl runs into), would sneer at her and ridicule her in a heartless, cynical manner just because she recognizes her as a member of the upper class.

In my job, I happen to have to do a lot with social workers and also, sadly, with occasional cases of domestic violence. It does happen in all social classes, among the well-educated and rich as well as among the poor.

A social worker (whose job is to help), but who completely lacks empathy toward an injured woman running around in a panic at night - this is a cruel scene. Rand clearly tries to tarnish and vilify a profession in the social field here, and she does it in a both unrealistic and ruthless way.

Even if one says it was all plot-driven and Rand 'needed' to get her character Cherryl shocked enough to literally send her over the edge into the water, I found that passage almost unbearable to read. There was no need to let Cherryl die in the story, but Rand sacrificed her like a pawn in a chess game in order to tarnish Jim Taggart even more.

To me, the lack of empathy exhibited troughout AS is the most disturbing aspect of the novel.

Edited November 2, 2009 by Xray

[Brant Gaede]

Yeah, Xray, except the social worker in the world of AS is not the social worker in our world. The society depicted has already gone to hell. True, Rand was not into much empathy.

--Brant

[Xray]

Yeah, Xray, except the social worker in the world of AS is not the social worker in our world.

--Brant

That's correct, but it is important to keep in mind that Rand did claim realism when it came to the characters in the novel. Although the focus of her comment in the afterword in AS was on on the heroes, it makes no sense that she would then construct what were in her mind 'unrealistic' villains.

I think Rand basically did categorize social workers as both stupid and loathsome in character, and thought of any charity project as despicable. She had that black and white thinking.

The society depicted has already gone to hell.

Still the social worker could have behaved differently. For social workers are frequently confronted with 'worlds' where everything has fallen apart too. Their very job is to help people handle such situations.

True, Rand was not into much empathy.

Indeed she wasn't. But what is life like without empathy? All that "ruthlessness", coldness and "cruel determination" which her characters display makes me shudder.

Edited November 2, 2009 by Xray

[Philip Coates]

Subject: Rand's Skills at Creating Characters

> a main character like Jim Taggart is that two-dimensionsional that he comes across mostly as as a whining sissy who is also pretty mean [Xray]

First of all, Taggart has a number of other traits besides that [sissy is inaccurate]. For example he is a rather slick manipulator, he is panicky and unstable,...and his lust to destroy that I already covered in another post.

That's at least 6 traits fleshed out pretty well..and I could probably think of more. Many of Dickens' characters and even important Shakespeare characters who are onstage a lot are portrayed as embodiments of a -single- trait. Much more cardboard than Rand's characters, and yet they are effective in those novels and plays.

Second, Taggart is no more of a major character than some of the other villains (Lillian and Stadler come to mind). That's three important bad guys...and you can't overdo all three.

Third, in Fountainhead, Rand gave two bad guys - Peter Keating and Ellsworth Toohey - each their own section and much more development. But in Atlas, the context and the enormous scope of people and material to be developed is different [i've already made this point more fully in my original post on the power and greatness of the novel about a week or so ago.]

Most importantly, Rand's philosophical view is that evil is impotent, it only triumphs through the default of the good. [see the "me too" Republicans slowly allowing us to slide into a loss of all our freedoms decade by decade.] And that is what she is working out in this book. In Fountainhead, maybe you could let Toohey have nearly the stature and "roundedness" of Roark. But in Atlas, the key conflicts and plot developments are between the good guys - Dagny and Hank and Francisco and the strikers and later Galt.

You have to allow the author to portray her view of the centrality of the conflict between the good, and this requires that they be given much more development than the villains, because in an important sense, the villains are side players. Even the major ones like Stadler, Ferris to some extent, Lillian and Taggart.

BTW, did you notice that I've already mentioned the most important 4 good guys (that excludes other second tier ones like Eddie or ones who change like Cherryl and the Wet Nurse) and probably the 4 bad guys we see the most (I've excluded Rearden's mother, Philip, Lawson, Mouch, Thompson, Cuffy Meigs, the Starnes heirs).

If you do simple addition, that's 4 + 3 on one side and 4 + 8 on the other. So 8 that absolutely must have some development and 11 more. And that leaves out all the strikers and the other mixed economy industrialists. And "bit players" as they would say if this were the theater.

So, first tier are the major good guys who drive the conflict = 4. Second tier are the villains who are most fully developed = 4. Third you have lesser characters who do one of more things to advance the plot = 11.

Get the picture? You CAN'T fully develop that many characters: The book would be even longer and confusing and distracting. And would fall apart. Even among the first and second tiers. A novelist has to walk a very careful line...and the real danger was always that a book as ambitious and complex as Atlas would "explode at the seams", become confusing. That it doesn't is one of the measures of Rand's greatness as a novelist.

I have so often read fiction where there are too many characters and - something Rand is unfairly accused of - they truly are interchangeable and thus you can't remember them. "Who was the dude who married the niece again?" One of Rand's great skills in characterization is making even "third tier" characters that we only see for a dozen pages memorable - Ragnar, Midas Mulligan, Hugh Akston among the good guys; the Starnes heirs and Mr. Thompson (especially late in the book) among the bad guys. And, of course all the lead characters would never be confused for each other. No one is going to mistake Francisco and Rearden for example.

Galt is one exception. He has to be offstage for almost the entire book and so his development suffers.

Here is where, in all the book, I think Rand made her most serious literary mistake: He is too abstract. He is described as being emotional and we see glimpses, but it doesn't quite come through. Rand had already created the ideal man, or the man without flaws, yet fully alive, emotional, and real. His name is Francisco. And for that reason he should have gotten the girl.

I think Galt (like Roark sometimes) probably goes back to the stoic Viking, the overcoming of emotion.

Bad idea in life. Bad idea in fiction.

Edited November 3, 2009 by Philip Coates

[jeffrey smith]

Subject: Rand's Skills at Creating Characters

> a main character like Jim Taggart is that two-dimensionsional that he comes across mostly as as a whining sissy who is also pretty mean [Xray]

First of all, Taggart has a number of other traits besides that [sissy is inaccurate]. For example he is a rather slick manipulator, he is panicky and unstable,...and his lust to destroy that I already covered in another post.

That's at least 6 traits fleshed out pretty well..and I could probably think of more. Many of Dickens' characters and even important Shakespeare characters who are onstage a lot are portrayed as embodiments of a -single- trait. Much more cardboard than Rand's characters, and yet they are effective in those novels and plays.

Second, Taggart is no more of a major character than some of the other villains (Lillian and Stadler come to mind). That's three important bad guys...and you can't overdo all three.

Third, in Fountainhead, Rand gave two bad guys - Peter Keating and Ellsworth Toohey - each their own section and much more development. But in Atlas, the context and the enormous scope of people and material to be developed is different [i've already made this point more fully in my original post on the power and greatness of the novel about a week or so ago.]

Most importantly, Rand's philosophical view is that evil is impotent, it only triumphs through the default of the good. [see the "me too" Republicans slowly allowing us to slide into a loss of all our freedoms decade by decade.] And that is what she is working out in this book. In Fountainhead, maybe you could let Toohey have nearly the stature and "roundedness" of Roark. But in Atlas, the key conflicts and plot developments are between the good guys - Dagny and Hank and Francisco and the strikers and later Galt.

You have to allow the author to portray her view of the centrality of the conflict between the good, and this requires that they be given much more development than the villains, because in an important sense, the villains are side players. Even the major ones like Stadler, Ferris to some extent, Lillian and Taggart.

BTW, did you notice that I've already mentioned the most important 4 good guys (that excludes other second tier ones like Eddie or ones who change like Cherryl and the Wet Nurse) and probably the 4 bad guys we see the most (I've excluded Rearden's mother, Philip, Lawson, Mouch, Thompson, Cuffy Meigs, the Starnes heirs).

If you do simple addition, that's 4 + 3 on one side and 4 + 8 on the other. So 8 that absolutely must have some development and 11 more. And that leaves out all the strikers and the other mixed economy industrialists. And "bit players" as they would say if this were the theater.

So, first tier are the major good guys who drive the conflict = 4. Second tier are the villains who are most fully developed = 4. Third you have lesser characters who do one of more things to advance the plot = 11.

Get the picture? You CAN'T fully develop that many characters: The book would be even longer and confusing and distracting. And would fall apart. Even among the first and second tiers. A novelist has to walk a very careful line...and the real danger was always that a book as ambitious and complex as Atlas would "explode at the seams", become confusing. That it doesn't is one of the measures of Rand's greatness as a novelist.

I have so often read fiction where there are too many characters and - something Rand is unfairly accused of - they truly are interchangeable and thus you can't remember them. "Who was the dude who married the niece again?" One of Rand's great skills in characterization is making even "third tier" characters that we only see for a dozen pages memorable - Ragnar, Midas Mulligan, Hugh Akston among the good guys; the Starnes heirs and Mr. Thompson (especially late in the book) among the bad guys. And, of course all the lead characters would never be confused for each other. No one is going to mistake Francisco and Rearden for example.

Galt is one exception. He has to be offstage for almost the entire book and so his development suffers.

Here is where, in all the book, I think Rand made her most serious literary mistake: He is too abstract. He is described as being emotional and we see glimpses, but it doesn't quite come through. Rand had already created the ideal man, or the man without flaws, yet fully alive, emotional, and real. His name is Francisco. And for that reason he should have gotten the girl.

I think Galt (like Roark sometimes) probably goes back to the stoic Viking, the overcoming of emotion.

Bad idea in life. Bad idea in fiction.

I think part of the problem lies in the fact that Rand seems to like to paint detailed background scenery at times, and push in a philosophical point or two along the way that builds the background of the story but has nothing to do with the story's action itself. Case in point is the passage which leads up to the first appearance of Hank Rearden--the train ride past the Rearden Steel mills, both as scenery painting, which occupies pretty much a full page, and for philosophical digression (the comments of the professor and the journalist). That her scenery painting is selective can be seen just a few pages later, when Rearden walks home, with hardly any any description of the scenery around him--it's an (almost) total blank, with about a sentence or two devoted to the physical landscape and the rest devoted to an overview of Rearden's career to this point in his life (which has parallels to Roark's early life, btw).

I wouldn't write the novel that way, but of course I didn't write the novel, so I'm not going to say it's a flaw: only that Rand's preferred method of narrative is more verbose and digressive than usual.

BTW, I remember feeling that Rearden should have been the one to get Dagny: in terms of how their characters progressed and developed, they ran in parallel, and it would have made sense at the end for them to join their lives together permanently. That she chose Galt over him didn't make any real sense to me.

We'll see how I react this time around, although at the rate I'm going to have to read it, that point may not come for--well, about twenty or twenty five pages a week (scattered over lunch hours)--I'll leave it to you to calculate the finishing date

And note to Xray--in this introduction of Rearden, he isn't directly physically described, but Rand says that most people would call him ugly and cruel looking because of his usual lack of expression. So apparently Brad Pitt should not play him in the movie adaptation.

Jeff S.

[Xray]

Philip C: Most importantly, Rand's philosophical view is that evil is impotent, it only triumphs through the default of the good.

Evil can be quite potent, and malevolence can be quite dangerous, no matter if you chose to "reject it contemptuously, not as dangerous, but as nonsensical" (AS) (I don't have the exact quote here but can look it up).

Imo Rand being obsessed with her heroes contemptuously rejecting suffering is a defense mechanism on her part.

She wants to put the mere thought of having to suffer as far away as possible, because suffering evokes in her the traumatic years in Russia.

But she empties the baby with the bathwater, for suffering is part of life too.

Imo glorifying suffering (as e. g. in the Christian religion) is as distorting as Objectvism's glorifying ignorance of suffering.

Jeffrey Smith:

And note to Xray--in this introduction of Rearden, he isn't directly physically described, but Rand says that most people would call him ugly and cruel looking because of his usual lack of expression. So apparently Brad Pitt should not play him in the movie adaptation.

Brad Pitt as Rearden would be a bad choice indeed. A more haggard-looking type would be better.

PB would also be bad choice as John Galt. BP's image is too nice, he also conveys too much warm-heartedness.

Galt is more a cold-fish type.

Do you think Jake Gyllenhaal (sp?) would fit as playing d'Anconia?

Edited November 3, 2009 by Xray