Bests & Worsts Reviews from Amazon

Critical judgment of Rand's controversial novel must ultimately depend on the reviewer's standards of criticism. For those who are sympathetic to Rand's general philosophic view, "Atlas" must be given hard marks--that much all fair-minded individuals can agree upon. Admirers of Rand who, for some reason or another, have never read this work, hardly need a critic of Rand like myself to tell them they ought to look the thing over. There are plenty of Randites who can fulfill the office of recommending "Atlas" to other Randites. But what about those who are not admirers of Rand and who do not sympathize with her philosophical views? Should they take the trouble to read Rand's massive tome? If Rand's admirers are correct in their view that "Atlas Shrugged" is a great masterpiece, we might think that anyone seeking to be well-read ought to add "Atlas" to their reading list. But suppose this is not the case; suppose "Atlas" is not one of the greatest novels ever written. If so, it would be a waste of time for any non-Randian to read it. It is this question that I will address in this review. Should non-Randians read "Atlas" because it qualifies as great literature? Or should they avoid it precisely because, as literature, it fails? If we examine "Atlas" solely on the grounds of literary criticism, rather than as a work of philosophy or propaganda, I believe that our verdict on the work must be largely negative. I say this, not because of the glaring weaknesses in the novel's characterizations and its painfully artificial contrivances of plot (although these certainly are serious enough problems), but because of a far more serious defect that towers over purely technical concerns. I have in mind the prevailing attitude which the novel projects, an attitude of blistering, passionate hatred towards anyone who disagrees with the ideas which the novel seeks to propagate. Rand was passionate not only about her ideas, but also about those who had the temerity to differ with her on any significant issue. This passion is present on nearly every page of the book. Anyone who disagrees with Rand can hardly miss it. In the seventy page speech by the novel's hero toward the end of the book, it practically leaps off the page and grabs the offending reader by the throat. If you don't care for Rand's ideas, you would have to be a masochist to read this novel. This is why the praise of the novel by Rand's admirers is misleading. Since they agree with Rand, they don't notice the degree to which she abuses those whose views differ from her own. Lacking in empathy for anyone who has the gall to think differently from Rand, it never occurs to them how offensive "Atlas" is to the nonbeliever. But it is a plain fact to any non-Randian who has trudged his way through its eleven hundred pages of hate. Now it should be obvious to any cultured individual that any novel which projects furious, unbridled hatred towards those who do not agree with its author can hardly be regarded as a work of great literature. You look at any great novel--say, for instance, Tolstoy's "War and Peace" or Drieser's "Sister Carrie--and you will find that disagreement with the author's political and moral views do not in any serious way compromise enjoyment of the novel. Tolstoy was a pacifist and Drieser a communist; but you don't have to be a peacenik or a commie to get something out of reading "War and Peace" or "Sister Carrie." But unless you are sympathetic with Rand's Objectivist philosophy, you will get nothing out of reading "Atlas" except a massive rhetorical whipping. For this reason, it is really quite beside the point whether "Atlas" has a good plot or is well-written or demonstrates a high-level of literary excellence. As a novel, it fails because it breaks one of the cardinal rules of great fiction: it promotes hatred and contempt rather than insight and understanding. It is a great work, not of literature, but of philistinism and darkness. Whitaker Chamber's, in his notorious review of Rand's novel, tried to capture the attitude Rand projects towards dissenters with a metaphor that has ever since enraged the novel's admirers. "From almost any page of Atlas Shrugged," Chambers wrote, "a voice can be heard, from painful necessity, commanding: 'To a gas chamber--go!'" While I can understand the outrage of Rand's partisans at this remark (they make the mistake of taking it literally), if you understand exactly what Chamber's was driving at, you will realize that, far from slandering the book, Chambers has merely used a metaphor to more vividly describe the prevailing spirit of the novel. And although Rand certainly would have opposed literally sending people to gas chambers, it is clear from the tone of the work that she desired some kind of awful punishment to be visited upon those who dared to resist her message. But books written with this kind of scathing hatred and contempt for humanity are not worth the trouble of reading. "Atlas" will long remain a favorite work for those who admire the author's ideology. But as for the rest of us, we must regard the work as a curious abomination, not fit to be read as literature.