Forget 1984, Animal Farm, Brave New World. Atlas Shrugged is in my eyes the ultimate dystopian novel. I’m still trying to wrap my brain around it, a week on. If ever there was proof that anything in extreme is to be avoided, then surely it is to be found in Atlas Shrugged. I’ll admit, as a lefty-leaner, I was horrified to realise just how much I sympathised with Rearden and Dagny at times - how logical and reasonable their thoughts and actions were, in comparison with their moralising, feeble counterparts. But seeing both sides of the coin is one of my strengths (weaknesses?); I’m all about cognitive dissonance.
But perhaps most amazing of all is that the book didn’t completely derail my 100 in 2011 challenge. Then again…I did read it on the bus, at the bus stop, on the walk home, in bed before bed, and spent almost an entire precious day off reading like a woman possessed. I may have conquered my lack of self-control when it comes to food, but I’m yet to master the art of tackling long books.