I stumbled across this great essay on The Fountainhead’s effect on teenage girls. I was 15 when I first encountered Ayn and I’ve been intrigued/disturbed by her ever since.
If your private high school English teachers didn’t force you to swallow it whole during your impressionable youth, The Fountainhead is a fabulous fetishistic book on dependency, anarchy, architecture and orange-headed men.
I am so curious to look at what bizarre pretentious notes I made for myself in my tattered paperback at home. I think it’s sitting next to Thomas Mann’s The Magic Mountain or some other mind-numbingly long (but yes, very good) book. Ah, the brilliance of youth… if only we stayed as smart as we thought we were.