To my mind, The Fountainhead fails as a novel because it’s a polemical tract, and fails as a polemical tract because the novel it’s forced into contradicts its whole philosophy. Form ought to follow function? Eschew decoration in favour of utility? THIS IS A SEVEN HUNDRED PAGE NOVEL. If it was a building, it would have an eight-storey facade covered in plaster mouldings, with mullioned bay windows, carved lintels, Doric columns and gargoyles on every eave. Inside would be one long, narrow hallway which would twist and turn and lead you back every five minutes to the same room, with a statue of a naked Howard Roark with the words ‘YOU ARE RIGHT’ carved around the base. Because ultimately, all this novel tells us is that our basest, most arrogant impulses are correct: I am right, everyone else is an idiot, and the only reason they don’t admit as much is they’re jealous of how awesome I am. In this world you have to stand up for your ideals to be worth anything, and your ideals have to be Howard Roark.
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I'm inclined to agree with you and i must say its nice to see someone profess their dislike for a certain text. I was a little apprehensive in my condemnation of King Kong
ReplyDeleteIt seems an unpopular move to say that you don't just disagree with Rand's politics, but you think it's a garbage book. I feel like people exaggerate Rand's skills as a novelist so they don't come across as totally dismissive of the whole thing.
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