Atlas Shrugged

I'm re-reading this, well, re-listening to this novel. I have the audio disc version - fifty discs in all. It's read by Scott Brick and, dork that I am, I find it terribly romantic driving down dark highways and through the back roads of the Pine Barrens listening to a strange man read the beautiful words that Ayn Rand has written. It's completely thrilling every time he says the words Reardan Metal - he has such a clear, lush voice.
I first remember hearing the name Ayn Rand when I was in grade school and I watched The Fountainhead with my father. I was so confused by the coldness of the actors; they seemed so unfeeling and so unlike any other character I had ever seen that I was completely fascinated. My father really enjoyed the film and I have inherited the old paperback copy we had of The Fountainhead that rested all those years on our bookshelf. Years later, when I was just starting out in high school, my beloved Aunt Bernadette told me that one of her favourite books was Atlas Shrugged and that it changed her life. I'd always wanted to read it but never got around to it until about four years ago. It's such a gorgeous novel and I am utterly swept up in the beauty of Rand's words. Can't wait for my next late night walk when I can listen some more...

(photo kidnapped from thomasstorey)