I finished up Garp this past weekend while camping in Tahoe. You know, I didn't realize how relaxing it was to wake up in the woods, sit in a chair, put my feet up on the picnic table, and read a novel, all the while being unshowered, with puppy at side, eating and pooing. The puppy, not me. Moving on.

I had four separate callings for my next book, Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead, which meant I just had to do it...


Image: The Ayn Rand Institute

The first was a commenter's off-hand mention of Howard Roark in a blog-post at the beginning of this year, which required a Google search before I replied. The second was the prevalence of the author and novel as a theme in Old School. Third, a statement made by a new friend of mine at a Mexican feast, a founder of BuildASign.com, where he mentioned that I would enjoy Ayn Rand's philosophy as we discussed religion and politics. (It was quite the party.) And lastly, a second mention from the original commenter recommending Ms. Rand after I abruptly put down Wormholes.

Writing this, it seems that I've actually listened to others, and took their collective advice. Have I changed? Can this be? Is this blog truly revealing the systematic morphology of an unapologetic liberal striving for energy independence and fiscal solvency? Is it really?

We'll see.

(The novel is good so far, I started reading it during Monday's commute to work.)

Labels: reading