There’s a film out. Atlas Shrugged – Part One. I must have missed hearing about this being turned in to a film because seeing it posted up on Galley Cat caught me completely by surprise. I loved Atlas Shrugged in the way it’s only really possible to love books that have extremely good characters and extremely bad characters and that you manage to read in that small gap of time between when you’re young enough to believe in an person who’s an ideal but old enough to get through a thousand or so pages without quitting. Lord of the Rings got me like that as well.
Considering how much I liked it, it’s strange that Atlas Shrugged is still the only book I’ve ever read by Ayn Rand. I think there was a sense that I’d be disappointed by anything else she’d written. I was/am afraid to try another book by her, just in case it didn’t/doesn’t do the same thing to me. Lord of the Rings kind of had the same effect (I’d already read the Hobbit before I got to LOTR, but after the LOTR I didn’t go out of my way to read any more Tolkien).
I’ve felt the same about other writers every now and again. It took me a long, long time to read anything by Márquez after I’d finished 100 Years of Solitude, and still I’ve not read anything else by William Gibson (following Pattern Recognition – not his best I’m told, but that doesn’t matter).
But then there’s other people I can’t wait to read their other stuff. Haruki Murikami; Wind Up Bird Chronicles, wow, Norwegian Wood, wow etc etc. William Boyd, Jean M Auel, Someone Else I can’t remember, these guys I read one book, get hooked and then try to get hold of everything they’ve ever written, all in one go. Continue reading