Do Objectivists Dream of Socialist Sheep?

So summer is almost over, and I am facing the dreaded Ayn Rand deadline. I'm planning on trying to get through Atlas Shrugged while on a family road trip next week. I'm sure Objectivism is going to make being trapped in a tin can with people who share my genes that much more delightful.

I see the google spell-check does not recognize "objectivism" as a word. That makes me feel a little bit better.

I'm trying to get back into reading the Victorian stuff as quasi-research for my novel, but so far I've only been able to stick with Lost In Austen: Create your Own Jane Austen Adventure by Emma Campbell Webster. Worse, reading it is leading me to believe I've been wasting my time with P+P for all these years when Northanger Abbey seems way more interesting. I think the fact that I can only get into re-imaginings of Regency era novels might be a sign that I don't like the originals that much. Pride and Prejudice and Zombies is one thing, but Jane Eyre? I don't think I need to tell you which one of those has been sitting untouched on my bookshelf for three months. Personally, I blame Jessica; she is, afterall, the one who keeps lending me better versions of these classics.

I also stumbled upon a copy of Love's Civil War in the library this afternoon, which means I will likely be diverted from the horrors of Ayn Rand and the Bronte sisters yet again. Something about Elizabeth Bowen - the stutter, the espionage, the convoluted sentence structure - keeps sucking me in. Letters, diaries, doomed eternal love, and canadian characters are some of my favourite things, so of course I'm already 200 pages into it.

Thats the thing about truly great books like those of Bowen; you don't need to dangle ten-thousand dollar scholarships in front of kids to get us to read them. Cough.