Well, I've gotten a start on Atlas Shrugged. It is even worse than I remembered! The writing is execrable and the message is heinous. She's not exactly subtle about her points. It takes no great intellectual effort to glean the message from this protracted piece of tripe(now that I'm a vegetarian I no longer knowingly eat tripe.) .
Obviously Rand is indulging in some fantasy of a masterful masculine capitalist, Master of the Universe. I can see how this image could appeal to certain men, especially. All around these figures are pitiful hippy do-gooders who care about the poor(who are inferior or loafers). The capitalist master takes abuse from ungrateful parasites all of whom he could swat like flies, but because of some misguided sense of noblesse oblige he does not. Take for example Hank Reardon, whose victory in the production of a new metal is belittled and even resented by his family, all of whom ultimately depend upon him. He is TOO KIND to them. That is his downfall. They are holding him back from the pure joy of creation. If these ne'er-do-wells around him can't congratulate him for successfully carrying the weight of the world, can't they at least leave the poor man alone?! The ingrate he put through school chides him and other capitalists for not giving him more money for some stupid charity that will be wasted on other good-for-nothings. Will the abuse of the poor capitalist never stop?!
Look, if you get off on reading this kind of trash, well, OK -- but please don't tell me it contains any profound ideas. I assume you think you're one of the beautiful people, but the odds are sorely against it, just remember that. I have a bad feeling the thousand pages I have left in the book will be a tiresome repeat of the same wicked misrepresentation of our world.