The following is an excerpt from the opening chapter of Atlas Shrugged, the magnum opus of Ayn Rand
The great oak tree had stood on a hill over the Hudson, in a lonely spot on the Taggart estate. Eddie Willers, aged seven, liked to come and look at that tree. It had stood there for hundreds of years, and he thought it would always stand there. Its roots clutched the hill like a fist with fingers sunk into the soil, and he thought that if a giant were to seize it by the top, he would not be able to uproot it, but would swing the hill and the whole of the earth with it, like a ball at the end of a string. He felt safe in the oak tree's presence; it was a thing that nothing could change or threaten; it was his greatest symbol of strength.
One night, lightning struck the oak tree. Eddie saw it next morning. It lay broken in half, and he looked into its trunk as into the mouth of a black tunnel. The trunk was only an empty shell; its heart had rotted away long ago; there was nothing inside-just a thin gray dust that was being dispersed by the whim of the faintest wind. The living power had gone, and the shape it left had not been able to stand without it.
While reading this, a flurry of thoughts came to my mind.
I was reminded of the time when my father talked about the passing of our grandfather.
I remembered attending a lecture series by a famous psychologist. He talked in length about the slow death of freedom, meritocracy, and competence hierarchies. The very values and systems that incentivized innovation and built modern civilization.
The gradual decline of my beloved Manchester United in the post-Ferguson era came to my mind.
For reasons unknown, the image of an empty church hall came to my mind.
Then I paused and it occurred to me.
Reading these few words made me go back in time. Not only that, but the metaphor of a fallen tree and the way Ayn Rand laid it all down brought back memories I didn’t know I have. And from that moment on, the author started building a conversation with me.
That's what great authors do. They build conversations that are unbound by time and space with a stranger - the reader.
And this conversation alone is worth sitting behind a good book turning pages while the world around you scroll through an infinite timeline chasing the next hit of dopamine in their neurons.
Happy reading :-)
PS: Please don’t be disheartened by the rather gloomy excerpt from the book. Atlas Shrugged is a great book and I am enjoying it very much. If you like reading and not sure what to read next, I highly recommend you to consider this book ❤️
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