I read The Fountainhead instead, and it was interesting enough to keep me reading. “Okay, there’s a lot of setup of characters and circumstances going on, I am curious to know how this plays out,” and then it just … doesn’t. It was all a lead-up to a long, weakly written, and plainly stupid monologue about how completely ruthless all people should be at all times, only ever thinking in the shortest term about themselves.

I closed that book wondering why Ayn Rand was famous for anything beyond being a shitbag, when I was young enough to be kind of a shitbag myself.