I went into reading this book thinking I would love it. By the end, I found myself answering "who cares" every time the book spouted the mantra "who is John Gault."

I was able to read the whole book and did find it interesting enough to finish. I don't think I would be so disappointed if I hadn't gone in with such high expectations for my enjoyment level.
( )

A fascinating world created by a self-hating author. I enjoyed what I read of it but quit halfway from overall annoyance at Rand's attitude. ( )

One can not really write a short review on this book if it ended with 5 stars. But one also can not write everything about this book without writing another book. I have pages and pages of handwritten text that I someday will put to use...

...but for now everything is simple: this book is about ideas as clock is about time. There is no other use for clock except idea of time and everything that comes with it. So is the book. Really that simple. It objectifies everyone and everything. To the point of been mechanical. And it's about mechanics too! About that steel-cage concrete philosophical building that rises to the sky in one single move. Everything is definitive. Steel-cage of story structure, apartments of world scenes, furniture of characters... it's as beautiful as one construction can be. Almost blinding...

...and there is love.

The love... Love. There is no simple words describing love in this book. Except word "love". Very not for everyone love. It is mechanical and objectified of course. Also it is grand and steel strong. It is in the whole building, it is in the matter of the book.

And the characters, they are cogs and springs, they are movers and counters, they are parts that make whole, they unique and exist as one. There is absolutely no character development whatsoever, there is no need in one. There is no place for doubts, there is only certainty. There is just this sound of steel beams smashing together, there is this sound of big industrial hammers smashing ideas into matter. There is this sound of beating heart of the machine.

Imagine you sitting in Bugatti Veyron, imagine you pushing pedal and open throttle to release all that thousand wild horses into this world. There is a very clear line between people who going there with whole heart no mind technicalities, and the people who don't care because it's just a car.

There is no one side to this book. There is good. There is bad.

But personally I don't give a damn. I'm in love. ( )

A staggering portrait of emptiness. If only someone had remembered to tell the author.

Atlas Shrugged is breathtaking empty. Devoid of morality, depleted of literary skill, deprived of sensible plot, deserted of dialogue. Philosophy textbooks disguised as novels are rarely appealing, but especially not when the underlying philosophy is so absurd. Like much throat-slitting libertarianism (which Rand chose to call "objectivism"), the views make minimal sense in regard to their actions, but make no sense whatsoever in regard to the consequences of those actions. Take a few logical steps down the line and see what kind of world you'll end up in if you follow these instructions.

(If you're reading this on the cusp of the 2020s, you won't have to do too much guessing; Rand's principles underwrite some of our most prominent world politicians and thinkers.)

Run. Take your children and your pets, grab that wad of cash from under grandma's mattress, and head for the hills. A world awaits you there of kindness and compassion, and - for that matter - genuine literature. Maybe you'll enjoy [a:Lawrence Durrell|8166|Lawrence Durrell|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1463722118p2/8166.jpg] or [a:Sally Rooney|15860970|Sally Rooney|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1534007127p2/15860970.jpg]? Perhaps you're a [a:Toni Morrison|3534|Toni Morrison|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1494211316p2/3534.jpg] type, a [a:Kazuo Ishiguro|4280|Kazuo Ishiguro|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1424906625p2/4280.jpg] acolyte, mad for [a:John Barth|8113|John Barth|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1222685060p2/8113.jpg] or eager for [a:George Eliot|173|George Eliot|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1596202587p2/173.jpg]. Whatever you choose, it's got to be better than this. As Robinson Jeffers famously said, "when the cities lie at the monster's feet, there are left the mountains". ( )

This was another reread for me and I had to bring it down a star. I still "sort of" agree with the message but the main reason though that I dropped it down to 4 stars is that as I have gotten older I no longer feel like being preached at. ( )