The Fountainhead Review

Some people say that Ayn Rand is a phase that you go through, as if appreciating her writing and philosophy is something we’re supposed to outgrow, like the shoes we wore when we were twelve or the innocent optimism and unselfconsciousness of youth.  Maybe it’s because I never quite managed to outgrow that optimism that I cannot understand how someone can relegate Ayn Rand to a mere phase.  The Fountainhead, which I reread recently, was just as compelling and just as impactful as it was the first time that I read it.

Most of the time, books that exist to espouse the author’s particular philosophy devolve into mere polemics that are barely readable.  Not with Ayn Rand, although I found Atlas Shrugged a little overstated for my taste.  Maybe that’s because Rand’s objectivism is a fundamentally individualistic philosophy, and therefore better suited to storytelling than most others, or maybe it’s because the story that she has to tell is a compelling one that resonates with some of storytelling’s most basic themes, with richly rendered characters who we can see alive all too well.  Maybe it’s both, and enabled by the fact that Rand is simply an excellent author.

As a story, outside of its philosophy, I consider The Fountainhead a fantastic novel.  Rand’s writing is beautiful, evocative, and eerily resonant at times; despite writing about a period almost a hundred years ago, the characters and circumstances will feel familiar, and she is one of the only authors I’ve read who effectively integrates “in-world” article excerpts and similar documents into her main text without it being distracting or bogging down the narrative.  The characters, even ones intended as stand-ins for particular roles in objectivist philosophy, are still multidimensional and alive – not one is a strawman.  And the plot’s conflicts and tensions pull the reader along more than you would ever expect arguments about architecture to do.

Rand does an excellent job integrating enough technical information about architecture to make Howard’s talent and passion obvious, without bogging down the narrative (as I am prone to do with scientific concepts).  He is by far the best characterized, which makes sense as the protagonist, but the sizable cast of supporting characters are almost as rich.  Keating, in particular, is depicted almost as well as Howard, and the trajectory of his life is realistic and disturbing in its relatability.  This is the kind of novel that will make you uncomfortable, and that’s a good thing…mostly.  There is one scene between Howard and Dominique that I struggle with every time I read it – I think you’ll know to what I refer when you read the book – I don’t think it quite fits with the rest of the story, and its implications are questionable to say the least.

That scene aside, I can think of little to criticize about The Fountainhead.  As for the objectivism Rand espouses through the novel, I find it compelling, although like most extremes I believe there is room for some moderation.  The promotion of self-interest as moral, the idea of civilization as an ascent to a state of privacy, and the exultation of humanity not as the lowest of creatures but as magnificent individuals are a refreshing antidote to the collectivist flogging propagated just as much (or more) today as it was in Rand’s time.  Rand saw firsthand the dangers and excesses of collectivist approaches, and that is surely part of how she makes those dangers so real and immediate in her novels.  The inter-war period of the twentieth century saw collectivism on the political right and left rise, and it took the Second World War to awaken the world to their dangers.  Today, we seem to have forgotten those lessons.

You should read The Fountainhead.  I would put it on a list with The Lord of the Rings, 1984, Plato’s Republic, John Locke’s Two Treatises of Government, and other writings that I think everyone should read at least once in their lives.  When you do, I urge you to look past the obvious, surface level politics, and approach the story for what it is: an exultation of creative humanity and the capacity of individuals, and a warning against those who would deny it.