I have had a back and forth relationships with Ayn Rand and her books since I was sixteen and I read Atlas Shrugged. When I first read it I fell in love and became determined to be an objectivist. Like most, I was turned off by Peikoff's dogmatism and became a recovering objectivist although, as a work of fiction, I still am entranced by Rand's work.
Re-reading it this year I began to recall why I think this (and Fountainhead) are some of the best books I ever read. They are so pertinent in the political turmoil we are in today. I found myself looking towards the Rocky Mountains for an oasis where I could wait this time in history out while Mouch...ah...I mean Bush...ruins the world.
Where is John Galt?