Shrugging it off

My wife has copies of Ayn Rand books in our library, which I believe were acquired while she was in university. (I say "library" as though it were more than three bookshelves in the spare bedroom. I know.) Atlas Shrugged. We the Living. Possibly others. I think she has read at least some of them. She was a better student than I was.

There have been moments when I reflect back on my time in university and how I never read any of Rand's books—however, I don't recall ever being assigned to read them, so this is not entirely surprising. Still, I somehow got through years of taking classes—and being, technically, an English major, I took a lot where reading was assigned—without actually reading every book assigned, so it was entirely likely that even if, say, Atlas Shrugged had been on a list for a class that I would not have made it through it. Or necessarily have even cracked it open.

College taught me the far more useful skill of being able to make the most of what I had read and downplay what I hadn't completed. If you think that's a cop-out, you are an educational traditionalist with grandiose notions about the collegiate experience. And almost certainly you read much faster than I do. You may or may not care for Dead Poet's Society (but that may reveal more about your preference for the thespian abilities of Robin Williams).

Now that I am not under ostensible obligation to read books, and certainly not required to try to read them in timeframes that were unreasonable for me even in my proverbial heyday, I sometimes find myself thinking that I should tackle these bits of the canon that eluded my experience.

However, people with whom I have conversed on the topic of Rand's books generally dissuade me from bothering.

I do find myself not so much wanting to read them; I merely want to have read them. Or at least for some reason there are moments where I think I'm supposed to want to want to have read them. I suppose may stem from those instances where my degree comes up and people figure that acquiring it should have required familiarizing myself with a work like Atlas Shrugged. It's not that I got a degree to comply with anyone's expectations, but there's still something that hits upon some insecurity when I can't quite explain or justify. But which I get over quickly.

~

When one looks at the way my life has gone up to this point, it's not like doing what I should has been a common theme. Should would have dictated I focus on college rather than work more. Should would have had me graduate sooner and get a different job.  Most of all, more than likely, should would not have me married to my wife.

Should would not have resulted in my life being any better.

What I might need to know about Atlas Shrugged in order to understand erudite jokes on the subject I'm sure I could glean from the summary on its Wikipedia page (not that I'm going to actually go to that much effort, but I suppose some day I might). I'll never be able to speak authoritatively on the book, no, but somehow I imagine my life will turn out okay despite that. Or perhaps because of that.

From what little I can claim to have heard about the book it touts the beauty of selfishness (but, as noted, I could be wrong about that). What is selfishness if not eschewing what one should do for what one wants to do?

Reading the book would be tantamount to missing its point altogether. Probably.

I'm sure if this post gets read by someone who actually has made it through the book he/she will correct me if I'm wrong. Such is the glory of the internet: It gives the know-it-alls somewhere to show off.

(Here's hoping the know-it-alls have a good sense of humor.)