A is AAtlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand
A is A
Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand
I have something of a skeleton in my closet. I was a libertarian before I was a Christian. Now there never was a time when I doubted the truth of the Christian faith. There was a time when I believed myself not yet ready to make that commitment. But I had already committed myself to a libertarian understanding of the state and economics. When I made a commitment to Christ, that of course supercedes all other commitments. But when I found the Bible teaching of property rights, of a severely limited state, of sound money, I worried that I was reading it through this old pair of glasses of mine. I hope such isn't the case, and try to let it be so. Some of my friends, I'm sure, assume that it is this old love of mine which keeps me from going all the way and becoming a theonomist. I pray it is the Bible.
Given this old love, it was with some fear that I cracked open Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand recently for the first time in a long time. I had tried it before and put it down. The only Rand I had ever made it through was Anthem. (I am now working through The Fountainhead.) This time I kept going. And it was scary. I found what I expected to find, a profound indictment against the deleterious affects of statism on the souls of men, a clear picture of the smallness of big government, a rousing call for freedom, and the hollowness that comes with it, under the sun.
Rand in this novel gives a devastating critique of the emptiness of modern life, and seeks to fill that vacuum with more nothing. She has the wisdom to see the folly of her enemies, but is fool enough to believe her own folly. I found myself often filing an amicus brief with her, but objecting to her objectivism. I found her moral posturing to be upright, but found her standing in mid-air. What is good in her, and in this novel, is borrowed from us, or better yet, stolen with all the tact of a federal bureaucrat.
The writing is an often bizarre mixture of bodice ripper-romance and esoteric speechifying. Page after page you forget you're reading a novel, and find yourself in some lecture hall forty years ago listening to this very angry woman. The heroes of the tale are barely more attractive than the foes.
But in the end I came out okay, because of a beauty in the novel that even the author missed. As capitalist after capitalist disappears from the sinking American economy, they make their way to a hidden Shangri-La of freedom. But what they build there is not a capitalist paradise, but an agrarian one. The auto magnate raises goats, while the oil tycoon grows vegetables. Not even Ayn Rand can sell smokestacks and skyscrapers as a vision of paradise. She unwittingly demonstrated that freedom doesn't equal capitalism, it equals freedom.
No Class
Class: A Guide through the American Status System, by Paul Fussell
In the reading of books one is afforded a multitude of benefits. There is knowledge to obtain, worlds to explore and who-done-its to titillate. All of which I enjoy. Then there is a genre of books that help you evaluate your life. These tomes can take the form of the biography of a missionary, or a bound series of sermons on problems common to contemporary life, or someone's ideas on how to raise children. As you read, there is a comparison and contrast going on as you either agree or disagree with the author's thesis.
You should know that I enjoy a wide spectrum of reading. I have read everything from Rolling Stone magazine to The Seven Pillars of Wisdom by T.E. Lawrence. Out of all this reading certain books stand out as having intruded in my life and having made a difference. One of the quirkiest has to be Class: A Guide Through the American Status System by English teacher and social commentator, Paul Fussell.
This guy hits the nail on the head when it comes to pseudo-intellectual affiliations and the accumulation of faux wealth. His exposure of how Americans present themselves among their peers is both serious and laughable. He delivers his view of social behavior with teeth marks on each page. As you read you have to wonder how many friends this guy has. But the wise will clearly see that he has a point. That his arguments have legitimacy.
If you intend to buy this book, and read it, prepare yourself to be exposed, offended, and embarrassed. When Fussell is done there is no veneer left. You will find out how enculturated you are. You may, in anger, disagree with his conclusions as a way to justify how you decorate or dress. But deep down, you know he has a point. I should also warn you that this book is not what you would call "Christian". There is some language used that I am sure would offend some of our readers. You have been warned.
But the most important aspect of this book is how it shows that everyone desires significance. Whether it is the perceived image of wealth or wearing the right, trendy t-shirt to communicate awareness of what is cool; everyone wants to be special. Herein lies the value of this book to believers. Once we are aware of or own unconscious ploy to "be", we can repent of this secret sin and get on with our lives by finding our significance in Christ alone. We then in turn can evaluate the culture better and as we disciple others, help them to escape the superficiality of cisterns that are broken and that will no longer hold water (Jeremiah 2).
One final comment. In the last chapter, Fussell inexplicably undoes his whole thesis. It is as if he suddenly comes to realize how people might take what he has said throughout the book and therefore, gives them an "out". I wondered if my evaluation of the last chapter was on the mark. Then shortly afterward I had a chance to discuss it with the All-knowing Ken Myers. He agreed, so there!