Welcome back to Book Club! A segment I make whenever I've finished a book and feel like talking about it. Which means, whenever I damn well feel like it. If I sound aloof and sarcastic today, it's because I just finished reading one of the worst books I've ever read in my life; Anthem, by Ayn Rand. Why did I put myself through this? It's simple, really. I am a masochist.
No, that was a joke. The thing is, I've been hearing echoes about this author for years, and all I really knew was that her books were extremely controversial. She inspires the lifestyle and beliefs of... uh, some not so savory people -- and famously has persisted in modern literature specifically because of it. One example of the effect she's had on pop-culture is the video game Bioshock, which famously employs Rand's philosophies about society in its setting, and takes a good long look at why they completely suck.
So needless to say, I was curious. The "classics" section of my local used bookstore was literally teeming with copies of Rand's work, and I sure as shit was NOT about to read something as long as Atlas Shrugged or The Fountainhead. But I wanted to know what people hated about her and her work so much -- (or loved, if you're of that inclination). I thought, "why is one's politics enough to incur so much wrath?" Boy howdy is that a naive thought, but I am a mere foolish babe, and I had it nonetheless. So I bought a second-hand copy, and gave it a read.
And would ya know it, it was awful.
What is Anthem about? Honestly I have no idea. "Collectivism bad?" It's a painfully boring 104 pages, where most of the "story" is just first-person monologue about the state of the world. How people are assigned jobs at birth, given strange "noun-number" names, think of themselves as a collective instead of a single person, and live day to day doing whatever they're told to do. At first, that would sound like a dystopia, right? Good old satirical science fiction. Not on the comedic side, but the dramatic one. Fahrenheit 451, Brave New World, and of course, 1984. Classics for a good reason.
Except it isn't a dystopia. It isn't even really a novel. It's a fucking essay pretending to be. Wholly fictitious, yes, but so allegorical -- and one built on a scarily confused strawman, at that -- that it ceases to be anything other than nonsense.
Oh my god! Just look at that prose! The themes are so strooooong and amaaaaaazing I love you Ayn Rand we we weeee!
NO. This is garbage. This is terrible. This is idiocy of the highest form. Self indulgent and masturbatory and pretentious without having anything to show for itself other than a flimsy, uncreative skeleton. Ayn Rand did not write a fiction here, she wrote a rant, all built on the flawed idea that all collectivist philosophies can be pinned into the same wheel; that of oppressing man and striking away one's individuality. Needless to say, this is a big fat yikes. Not really because of its complicated implications, but more so because she just looks like a fucking idiot. Nothing happens in this book, other than the stream of consciousness in the head of a formless, void of a protagonist (whose thoughts are just a stand-in for her own beliefs) that doesn't interact with the setting or themes in any meaningful way. Want me to summarize this book for you? I can do it very quickly.
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Dude is born in "uh oh, communism society because they're raised by the state and can't decide how to live their lives, but also fascism society because they Sieg Heil, but also a dystopian future society where no one can think for themselves" -->
Dude is pushed around by the feds -->
Dude don't like that, and has oddly translucent thoughts about not liking it, despite supposedly knowing no different -->
Dude meets epic girl!! (all the classic dystopians share this trope for some reason) -->
Dude also finds a hidey hole and learns how to read. Then he researches like a boss -->
Dude becomes an enlightened Ubermensch and fucks off to the mountains with his beautiful wife to start society anew with his epic knowledge.
-END-
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Yet just when the story reached a conclusion, it kept going for another twenty pages of ego-stroking, waxing poetic about "yargh argh yargh I can think for myself now" without there being any long-standing repercussions for the protagonist's actions. This is a dystopian novel, right? About the future, if we fall to collectivism and lose all sense of our individual selves? Then why isn't there some kind of setpiece or occurrence where we see this as a consequence? Wouldn't it make sense to show that, if we go that far, that even if he becomes the individual society has lost, his knowledge isn't enough against the world's collectivist power? I think that would be pretty thematically logical, don't you? "We should not do this or this would happen."
There is nothing of the sort. This buffoon thinks he can read a few books and change the world. No cause and effect, no... anything.
And why would there be? This is not a story. It is screaming. There are no consequences because Rand is not criticizing collectivism, she's praising hubris. I don't want to discount Rand's life in communist Russia, but I also can't imagine how those conditions created an obvious "thinker" type who has lived in horrors... then goes and creates a hollow and inane piece of work. It doesn't reflect hardly anything of anything. But in a way, I am willing to bet that this is most certainly her best book -- simply on principle that it's the shortest and, therefore, subjects you to less of itself. Please trust me, reader. I read this so you don't have to.
And I will end this cynical episode of book club with one thought. That of "Ego." Rand, at the end of the story, proposes this as the unkillable, ultimate power of man. In my own story, a many volume fantasy epic, "ego" is specifically something that leads to downfall. I bring this up only because I noticed that as an instant point of contention between us, as writers. I am fallible, like any human being, and get cocky about certain things from time to time. I also allow myself to have pride in who I am and the things I do. But generally, I see ego, which leads then to hubris, as a universal human fault. Something that becomes a serious issue if left unchecked, and leads to questionable -- sometimes downright heinous -- choices and actions. In the text of my book series, which I call Over the Dust and Snow, I represent ego and hubris with the burning rays of the sun (conversely, modesty and humbleness is represented with the moon, of course). When characters get too big a head or act in their own self-interest, the sun blazes hot or peeks out behind the clouds, and they often suffer punishment for the things they do. Fly too close, after all, and those wings of wax will melt.
Don't get me wrong. I am an absolutist concerning freedom of speech. I value art, expression, knowledge, and recognize individualism as quite an important part of life. But I cannot bring myself to conflate it with unchecked hubris, nor pit it against a self-informed narrative about what I think another philosophy means.
Maybe, Rand, you should not be encouraging people to fly too close to the sun.
(I genuinely give this book a 1/10)
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Thanks for reading!
