The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand
My rating: 1 of 5 stars
I really did try to get through this thing. But I can't finish it. It has no story. It has no humor. It has no character. It has no setting. It has no life. My life is too short to give any more of it to this.
It has humorless, cardboard cutouts without souls moving about amidst a sketch of mid-20th-Century New York, pontificating about architecture, life, and economics. The author understands none of these (or at least is unable to express any real passion about them).
Count me among the many who find Ayn Rand's reputation and fame to be out of synch with her talent.
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