For many writers, fate can sometimes throw such twists and turns that even in their wildest dreams it would be hard to imagine: today you write another novel of a fantastic or dystopian nature, and a hundred years later (conditionally, of course) you are called a prophet, because everything you’ve written has literally turned into reality to the fullest extent. And if you believe the many statements in the media, people are already beginning to notice parallels between the current economic downturn (or stagnation, if you prefer) and the world collapse, so thoroughly described by the writer Ayn Rand in the 1200 pages of her trilogy “Atlas Has Spread His Shoulders”. The writer’s fans have already dubbed their idol a prophet – a kind of guru, whose teachings can save us from total decadence. But why is it that a perfectly logical question is left out of the equation: why seek salvation from the deplorable situation caused by uncontrolled markets by delving even deeper into the absence of any control or monitoring? Paradoxically, once published, the novel was not well received by the public, and only in the last couple of decades, fraught with regular economic crises, has “Atlanta’s” fan base grown exponentially. Does this make sense? Perhaps. But as fate would have it, I found myself another victim determined to find out who this John Galt is after all!
What the book is about
The reader’s vague idea of this character begins to form deep after the middle of the trilogy. Rand portrays John Galt as a kind of Prometheus, a man who refused to accept the increasing level of socialism in American society and took refuge in the mountains. Naturally, he carries with him the proverbial fire: the idea of creating a new society, purged of the filth of capitalism, into which only his like-minded people will be accepted. Like Prometheus, the son of God, endowed with all the supernatural powers he is supposed to have, John Galt has his own unique powers, in particular the amazing intellect that created the perpetual motion machine. The ranks of John Galt’s society are filled only by individuals equal to him in ability: exceptionally rich, smart, good-looking businessmen! Without them, the whole world would collapse, or rather, devour itself. Unfortunately, compared to the gang of superheroes led by John Galt, the whole outside world, too busy with autophagy, looks too caricatured and implausible.
Moreover, absolutely every character in the “Atlas Shrugged” trilogy is endowed with exclusively unidirectional character traits. In the world created by Ayn Rand, there is no gray colors: all of her creation is divided into black and white. If it is the protagonist, then he must have a strong, strong-willed character, through all the intrigues and treachery, forcing his way to the source of goodness and virtue; if it is the main character’s opponent, then he must radiate rot, treachery and meanness with all his gestures, words and deeds. Immediately a joke comes to mind when the monkey is trying to choose whether to be among the beautiful or intelligent, but in Ayn Rand’s society everything is much simpler: there is a clearly drawn line between good and evil, low and high, virtue and guile, and it is this “cardboardness” that makes it impossible to seriously assess the artistic component of her novels.
Anyone can be convinced of this by making up for themselves the image of the main character, Dagny Taggart. She is another superman in this novel, with all her qualities and abilities clearly deserving to be on par with John Galt, but that decision takes too much time and too many pages. She is too attractive, even in strict business attire; too clever and capable of solving any question before which even the most formidable-looking “sea wolf” would fall into despair. All low things are alien to her, money does not interest her; she cares only about the business to which she devotes her whole life – the development of the railroad. But if this is the direction of the conversation, why does she live in luxury, squandering bills, leading a friend to adultery for her impulse of lust, as it turned out later, very windy? Ayn Rand doesn’t provide an answer to that.
Artistic Assessment
I’ll probably say it again, but from an artistic point of view, this work should not be considered something worthy. The novel is replete with massive philosophical passages, at times pointless and irrelevant (John Gault’s radio broadcast alone fit into 100 pages). The same phrases and ideas and the situations and problems in which the characters find themselves are constantly repeated throughout the book. By the end of the trilogy, the sameness and predictability are literally starting to make me sick.