The Collected Writings of Sardonicus

"'We talked some, he was very shy, but after a while he said, 'One thing I really like is Spanish rice.' So I promised to make him some, and he smiled kind of, and I decided--well, he wasn't the worst young man I ever saw. That night, after I'd gone to bed, I said as much to my husband. But Wendle snorted. Wendle was one of the first on the scene after the crime was discovered. He said he wished I'd been out at the Clutter place when they found the bodies. Then I could've judged for myself just how gentle Mr. Smith was. Him and his friend Hickock. He said they'd cut out your heart and never bat an eye. There was no denying it--not with four people dead. And I lay awake wondering if either one was bothered by it--the thought of those four graves.'"

"'Well, sit down. Listen. I understand. And it's very nice of you. But you don't know. I thought a few days here would be enough to take the hero worship out of you. I see it wasn't. Here you are, saying to yourself how grand old Cameron is, a noble fighter, a martyr to a lost cause, and you'd just love to die on the barricades with me and to eat in dime lunchwagons with me for the rest of your life. I know, it looks pure and beautiful to you now, at your great old age of twenty-two. But do you know what it means? Thirty years of a lost cause, that sounds beautiful, doesn't it? But do you know how many days there are in thirty years? Do you know what happens in those days? Roark! Do you know what happens?'
'You don't want to speak of that.'
'No! I don't want to speak of that! But I'm going to. I want you to hear. I want you to know what's in store for you. There will be days when you'll look at your hands and you'll want to take something and smash every bone in them, because they'll be taunting you with what they could do, if you found a chance for them to do it, and you can't find that chance, and you can't bear your living body because it has failed those hands somewhere. There will be days when a bus driver will snap at you as you enter a bus, and he'll be only asking for a dime, but that won't be what you'll hear; you'll hear that you're nothing, that he's laughing at you, that it's written on your forehead, that thing they hate you for.'" p. 55

"Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds."
- Albert Einstein

Objectivism vs. Collectivism. Selfishness vs. Selflessness. "Creators" vs. "second-handers." The Fountainhead is intended to spread Ms. Rand's own "Objectivist" agenda, which philosophizes about the inherent evil of so-called "selfless" behavior, the tragedy of a world in which everyone is considered important, yet no one is indispensible. It is in this world that true greatness - that of the "first-hander" - is feared and undermined by the media, the Church, the intelligentsia, the "second-handers."

Enter Howard Roark, "modernist" architect, island unto himself, the embodiment of selfishness, and the actualization of true egotism within one man. Roark is inherently incapable of generosity, kindness, sacrifice or pity. He is incapable of cruelty, condescension, spite or deceptiveness. In other words, he is incapable of dependence upon others, and values no man's judgment but his own. He is indifferent to approval or disapproval, flattery or insults, gratitude or apology. Although perfectly aware of his own genius, he neither preaches nor prods. His own work, the buildings he erects, are advertisement enough of his abilities, and it is for others to decide whether or not to fear him or be inspired by him. He is, in essence, the epitome of a creator, or "first-hander," and the hero/martyr of the novel.

The Fountainhead is Roark's greatness on trial before the rest of mankind, and serves - ultimately - as Ms. Rand's critique of society. The question is: are great men given the opportunity to succeed in our society? Or does society fear acknowledging the true greatness of a "first-hander," as it can only feel shame and jealosy in its own relative incompetence. A lesser man than Howard Roark would have compromised his principles. He would have done his college assignments in accordance to the instructions of his professors, he would have changed his designs to satisfy his clients, he would defend himself in the face of his critics... he would have doubted himself. But it never occurs to Roark to allow society to corrupt his true nature, and so he is villified, accused of purely ego-centric, antisocial tendencies.

Functioning primarily as comparative character ideal types, Rand introduces a number of exceptional allies and adversaries to Roark efforts. Ellsworth M. Toohey, respected critic and expert on everything, is the brilliant and cunning antithesis to Roark. He, according to Rand, is a reknowned "humanitarian," charismatic man of "integrity" and "virtue"... essentially a despicable "second-hander" of the highest order. It is Toohey, who, aware of his own inability to create anything of greatness, that leads the crusade against men of Roark's calibur, bitterly resentful of everything he is not. According to Toohey, all men are equal: everyone is important, yet everyone is also interchangeable. There is also Peter Keating, the handsome, charming, self-conscious, attention-starved rival architect who has learned to excel only at giving others what they want by mimicking the styles of past masters or any past great era with flair. There is Gail Wynand, the newspaper mogul who masquerades as a Toohey, but has the potential to become a first-hander if only he is willing to sacrifice everything society values. There is Dominique Francon, the woman who loves Roark but leaves him because she cannot bear sentencing herself to a life in which she knows all of her dreams and efforts will be in vain.

The Fountainhead is an engrossing, absolutely captivating novel that I could barely stand to put down. Although there were a number of glaringly obvious logical fallacies in Rand's philosophy, one cannot help but see things "her way" whilst reading the novel. Towards the end, after committing a "crime," Roark, on trial for his freedom, must present his case in the courtroom of justice as well as of human opinion. What is truly at stake in the trial? Can society run the risk allowing him to win? I highly recommend that you see for yourself. A+/A