I went through my "stats" about page views and saw that I had 8 viewers (or views) from Russia (I deeply adore to think about the prospect of people, from ANYWHERE! actually reading my posts). This got me thinking about the book I'm currently reading, The Fountainhead, by Ayn Rand, who for those who may not be familiar with her, was born in Russia.
I will be completely honest in the fact that I have no idea why I am posting this, except as a release for the build up joy and contemplation I am experiencing as I read The Fountainhead. Please note that I am only approximately halfway through the book! At first I did not like the book, however there was something that kept me reading, and now I have a hard time putting the book down. Then... there's times where I am forced to take breaks from it, from the characters, the vivid pictures and the complex, yet wholly simple, characters. It is indescribable, this feeling. I'm not too sure what makes me put down the book yet it is a feeling that I enjoy. The feeling which makes me giddy. That I can keep reading. I feel a slight ownership of the characters because there is a complete sense of realism that is attached to them.
Ayn Rand worked like an artist (who am I kidding, she was truly an artist) as she tells the life of Howard Roark as an architect and as a man. There is hardly a proper way to describe Roark, however, Rand said well in saying Howard Roark was the ideal man, man as "he could be and ought to be." His understanding extends to a multitude of subjects on a multitude of levels, yet, he still possesses innocence and a belief in what is right. He understand everything and then nothing which makes him almost pure.
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