Starting The Fountainhead

[AMERICONORMAN]

I would disagree with that, I personally found Keating far more repulsive than Toohey, and I believe that someone who has consciously chosen evil in an intelligent fashion is preferable to someone who has drifted through life with little thought about what goes on around him. Most of the problems in the world are caused by the Keatings, not the Tooheys.

Okay, but there would be no Keatings without the Tooheys. Just because there are more Keatings in this world, does not mean that they are guilty of a greater evil than the Prime Movers of evil, such as Toohey. That is if there are degrees of evil.

I suppose one of us must check our premises as to the question of who is more evil among the evil.

But the facts of the novel remains, that for Roark, Toohey is an almost non-entity; Keating is tolerable. For Wynand, Toohey is a small and harmless man; while, Keating is detestable. For Dominique, Toohey is laughable; while Keating is a pitiful specimen. And for Mallory Toohey is worth shooting; while Keating is just another one of the usual scum.

Perhaps you're thinking of Mallory's (I think it is his) identification of the true nature of evil, as it is experienced, not as a giant dark warrior, but many small and petty cunniving lemmings. Still, these second-raters must be guided, and that guiding force is the source, and most indignant aspect, of the evil.

Americo.

P.S. I must clear up that I should not use the term "tragic hero" to name Keating. I should call him a "tragic villain" in that he is reprehensible but his function has the power to arouse pity in the viewer.

[B. Royce]

Yes, Keating did love Roark to some degree (which Toohey certainly did not), which provided a basis for a potentally selfish choice on his part. That selfish choice should have been to fulfill his deepest love (at that point, since he had already discarded painting), which was for Catherine. In reading the story I had hoped that Keating would marry Catherine that last time,and so rise up and be a man. When he didn't, he was finished. Roark didn't know of Keating's choice regarding Catherine. If he had, he would not have made the deal.

I think one is more repelled by Keating than Toohey precisely because Keating is not as evil. Total evil, like Toohey, is beneath any feeling at all. He is totally selfless, and thus, totally impotent.

[AMERICONORMAN]

Brian Faulkner:

This is a good point,

"When he didn't, he was finished. Roark didn't know of Keating's choice regarding Catherine. If he had, he would not have made the deal."

It is something to think about.

Americo.

[AMERICONORMAN]

TO THE LAUGHER

By Jose Gainza

You laughed with dramatic irony

Before you plunged

Into the sky defiantly.

Your nostalgic cliff remained

As it lost you finally.

On your will did you rely.

A breakthrough you did see

As to Stanton you did fly,

Instead of swimming to the sun.

Your clothes lay on the rocks;

I did not read you run.

I was a bird not from the flocks,

Flying close to watch you nude,

You with that orange do.

I was your navel ant, high dude—

Ant yet you couldn’t have a clue,

Though I could be seen for buttons missing.

And if I bugged you, surely,

Surely you would shoo me, flicking.

Or your feet I’d rub them tenderly.

I’d remove those leathers sandles.

I’d mend that hanging shirt.

I’d feed you among candles.

I can’t even dare to flirt.

I’d press that faded denim.

I’d be the water in the tub

To clean off your body’s rim,

Clean off dust of granite in the tub.

But you soon walked past the dump

And past the useless church.

Still in my mind were you nude without a hump,

Though no longer you were naked as a birch.

You passed them in the street,

And you walked up the Keating steps.

(And passed the obese cheat).

And with your proud footsteps,

You marched straight on and to your drafts

(Thus forgetting of her news).

You were not a man who laughs

As you resolved some structure’s use.

You drew your pencil-cure

Striking at the structure still not seen.

Yea! The right way, you were now so sure;

(You almost missed the meeting with the Dean).

(She stood shocked by your disinterest) …

Then you shocked him with your daring:

Really your sweet truth, your self-interest.

You preached to him of building;

You spoke of fusing forms

By harmony and commitment.

You defined innovations and not the norms,

Though he could not learn what you meant.

You seemed the first father of hierarchy;

A subject taught by none before.

“How” was all you needed, it the key,

For you to sanction your own “whyfore”.

He could not question why,

And thus he did not understand.

You spoke of happiness for which you’ll die—

“You’re not allowed” was in his hand.

You spoke of life-long joyous years—

But “the Ancients they have spoke”.

We learned that you had toiled all these years:

You built and walked the girders when you were broke.

I learned that you were all alone

But you were not for I saw you.

You spoke of how you build: all alone:

Holding to one form right all through and through.

I’ll paraphrase—thus you said:

That , “A painter’s picture comes

Of its theme, context, paint, and by the head.

The hero’s courage will beat diverse drums

To battle dragons or roaches.

(Clients will be fought only to build).

The orchard house no desert approaches—

Skyscrapers are not water filled—

Ancient temples can’t house a Roark—

A Hugo is not a Rand—

A knife is not a fork—

And in war by my sword I’ll stand.”

Thus began your trying battle.

(There might be crying you could bet).

And so without a horse and saddle,

You walked out to catch the sunset.