Book Review: The Fountainhead ( Part 4: Howard Roark)
Before you read Part 4 below, here are Parts 1, 2 and 3.
Howard Roark:
The challenge of finding the right Artificial Intelligence rendition for Howard Roark inspired us to look at his character more. ( My friend Anagha Fernandes got it the closest).
The embodiment of the self-contained, stoic, selfish creator, standing out in a crowd in the Kiki Halcombe’s get-together, with his orange-flamed hair and tall, wiry frame standing out in the middle of the flashy, black and gold-haired crowd — remember, that is when he catches the sight of Toohey — and an innate hatred that ebbed quietly and glowed through that room.
I started comparing myself with Howard Roark and realized I was not. My vacillations about ‘sacrifice’ vs ‘success’ — the underlying qualifiers for ‘second-handers’ and ‘creators’. I am a creator, but I realize I have a generous streak, and I am proud of that.
It dawned on me slowly that a character can be perfect, but too perfect? Roark is too perfect — self-contained, stoic, success-driven. But ‘Fountainhead’ is no ordinary novel — its author is messianic, and the book is a cult.
The characters of Roark and Toohey stand on opposite ends of this the ‘creator’ vs ‘second-hander’ spectrum. Wynand, Dominique, Keating — these characters traverse around them, and provide the means and opportunity for these two motivated characters and the plot revolves around them.
The construct of the pre-climax, the ‘sermonic’ discussion between Roark and Wynand, and the courtroom diatribe of Roark on the merits of objectivism provide the answer for the reasoning behind such a clean-cut protagonist. Hence the fourth part is rightly named against him.
‘Tall, slender, straight lines and angles, forbidding face, half smile, an ironic, eternal and frozen, half comfortable smile, almost mocking and contemptuous, wrinkles or dimples or slightly, freckles on the bridge of the nose and cheeks, a pale face, colorless cheeks. Grey, cold eyes that refuse to show expression, under very long, straight, and red eyelashes.
He conflicts with the world, but in peace with itself. He will be himself at any cost. He does not suffer, because he believes in suffering. He only believes in what he does. A quick, sharp mind, courageous, and not afraid to be hurt.
The story is the story of Howard Roark’s triumph. It has to show what the man is, what he wants, and how he gets it. It has to be a triumphant epic of man’s spirit, a hymn glorifying a man’s I. It has to show every conceivable hardship and obstacle in his way — and how he triumphs over them, why he HAS to triumph.
The above, excerpts from Ayn Rand’s notes, bring forth the perfect characteristic of the protagonist — it is like watching a restrained Rajnikanth movie. Untouched, unblemished… yet, there is an exception — the exception of a friendship with Gail Wynand. A friendship that opens him up and brings the message out to the world. The stoic hero’s messianic sermon about objectivism forms the pivotal event of Part 4.
What about Dominique? If Roark has ever wanted something — somebody, it was Dominique — but he wants her on her terms, which are his terms. How? Let us explore Dominique’s POV in Part 4.
The Dominique POV:
Dominique had warned Wynand about the nefarious plans of Toohey — particularly about filling open positions with his coterie, and influencing shareholders of the ‘Banner’. Gail Wynand turns a deaf year, more so that he wants Dominique to be his possession — away from the bustle of the city, the prying eyes of his guests, and particularly the ‘Banner’. He forbids any conversation about Banner with her.
Dominique continues to live a secluded but societal life. They continue to live together — Wynand and she — and she performs her role as the dutiful wife. There is a point when he informs her that he is bringing Roark to dinner at their house that Roark built for them. She could sense and feel Roark’s presence through the drawing shared by Wynand.
She was too far away to see the signature, but she knew the work and the only man who could have designed that house…
…She thought, were she lying in bed in Roark’s arms in the sight of Gail Wynand, the violation would be less terrible; this drawing, more personal than Roark’s body, created in answer to a matching force that came from Gail Wynand, was a violation of her, of Roark, of Wynand — and yet, she knew suddenly that it was the inevitable.
With Wynand falling into a deep friendship with Roark, dissolving the usual client-architect relationship that Roark strictly maintained, it was only a matter of time before they both showed up together at her doorstep.
Dominique: “I didn’t hate him….It was so long ago…”
Wynand: “I suppose none of that matters now, does it?” He pointed to the drawing.
D: “I haven’t seen him for years.”
W: “You’re going to see him in about an hour. He’s coming here for dinner.”
She moved her hand, tracing a spiral on the arm of the davenport, to convince herself that she could.
D: “Here?”
W: “Yes.”
D: “You’ve asked him for dinner?”
She is growing onto her own as part of her punitive journey to accept Roark’s presence in her life, right in front of her, yet not acknowledging their simmering love. She became the third leg of the triumvirate of Roark, Wynand, and Dominique. It was not an easy task, but it was the hardest penance that she had chosen to undertake.
To remain controlled, as he wished, to be patient, to make of patience an active duty executed consciously each day, to stand before Roark and let her serenity tell him: “This is the hardest you could have demanded of me, but I’m glad, if it’s what you want” — such was the discipline of Dominique’s existence.
What is the point of being in love and not being with the person you love? There are times when they are alone, and times when Gail brings his topic to her — at all times, she has to act with cautious reserve, while living in the house Roark had designed for her, seeing and feeling the angles and spaces that he had touched and felt before she moved in as its resident. She feels one with the house and that unquenched desire for Roark while lying in Wynand’s arms.
She thought: Every moment...every need of my existence...She thought: Why not? It’s the same with my body--lungs, blood vessels, nerves, brain--under the same control. She felt one with the house.
If we look at what Roark is made of — Dominique knows him and his ways, right from their tempestuous tryst in the quarry. As they spend time together along with Wynand, she starts feeling they were in it, together.
The same goes on till two things come to a head. First, the Banner is bristling with negative circulation and revenue because of Wynand’s crusade to highlight Roark’s achievement ( atypical and unsavory content for the pandered readers), defying Alvah Scarret. Second, the Cortlandt project slips out of Keating’s hands, leading to alterations and modifications to Roark’s design.
As the shareholders stir against Wynand’s advocacy of Roark — first his credentials, then his credibility, then his conviction of Roark’s blasting of the Cortlandt building, Wynand burns both ends of his candle to keep the Banner floating. Dominique lends her hand easily, such that all the gaps in Banner’s operations were ‘fixed with a patch or two’, by Dominique, the ‘seamstress’.
The impossible, the not to be achieved in word, glance or gesture, the complete union of two beings in complete understanding, was done by a small stack of paper passing from his hand to hers. Their fingers did not touch. She turned and walked out of the office.
The seamless, wordless relationship runs its course — Wynand is a spent force at the end of the Banner saga. Such a man who finally accepts his soulless journey till he meets Roark, and then turns to a resigned acceptance — letting go of Banner and Dominique.
In her last penitential act, Dominique agrees to play a part in Roark’s act of blowing up Cortlandt, it is the gesture that obviates their separation, and the curtains fall away. She stands with Roark, in his acts of stoic defiance, like the Stoddard Temple trial.
"Howard...willingly, completely, and always...without reservations, without fear of anything they can do to you or me...in any way you wish...as your wife or your mistress, secretly or openly...here, or in a furnished room I’ll take in some town near a jail where I’ll see you through a wire net...it won’t matter...Howard, if you win the trial--even that won’t matter too much. You won long ago...I’ll remain what I am, and I’ll remain with you--now and ever--in any way you want..."
After her recovery, she feeds the Banner with a simple snippet, thereby announcing her tryst with Roark, and at the same time, giving the dough to Alvah Scarret to vilify her and exonerate Wynand, and the Banner. With that last defiant act, she becomes the person she wants to be — happy Mrs Roark.
Her liberation was to live and act with Roark while being her own — the creator, on her terms.
Howard, now we stand together — against all of them. You’ll be a convict and I’ll be an adulteress. Howard, do you remember that I was afraid to share you with lunch wagons and strangers’ windows? Now I’m not afraid to have this past night smeared all over their newspapers. My darling, do you see why I’m happy and why I’m free?”
After the Banner happily smears her name as the villain who incited its promoter, she meets Wynand, who gets to understand her past relationship with Roark.
Dominique’s journey from the sedate wife to Gail Wynand to the prominent accomplice to Roark’s defiant act is a saga by itself — to become a couple truly and completely in love, each individual has to become complete by themselves. They don’t need the other to complete themselves, but they love each other as two individually strong, independent, selfish people, on their terms.
Finally, as she ascends the outside hoist, she meets her husband, Howard Roark, along with the ocean and the sky. The significance of the novel’s last line is that Dominique reaches her destination — open, free, and being Mrs. Roark.
The Character Interplays:
We have covered the gist of the storyline while examining Dominique's POV. The character interplays will highlight the key aspects of their relationship and the pivotal moments.
Wynand & Roark:
Wynand looks for an architect to build his dream, secluded home for Dominique and him. Roark fits the bill. As the conversation develops, Wynand develops awe of Roark, the person, along with Roark, the architect.
…the house you’ve designed for me shall be erected as you designed it. It will be the last Roark building to rise on earth. Nobody will have one after mine.
They become thick friends, so much so that Dominique is left behind as the third in the triumvirate. He hangs a picture of Roark in his office and feels inspired. He goes to Roark’s office, takes him out for dinner, and brings him home (where no other guest is allowed.)
And he wondered why he watched Roark, feeling what he felt in his art gallery. He belongs in an unfinished building, thought Wynand, more than in a completed one, more than at a drafting table, it’s his right setting; it’s becoming to him — as Dominique said a yacht was becoming to me.
Roark’s calm, measured, and principled demeanor prompts Wynand to introspect about his place under the sun — his identity and motive. For a self-assured and aware man like Wynand, who almost is on the same frequency as Dominique and Roark.
One of those conversations that struck me, and probably that I will remember:
“Look, Gail.” Roark got up, reached out, tore a thick branch off a tree, held it
in both hands, one fist closed at each end; then, his wrists and knuckles tensed against the resistance, he bent the branch slowly into an arc. “Now I can make what I want of it: a bow, a spear, a cane, a railing. That’s the meaning of
life.”“Your strength?”
“Your work.” He tossed the branch aside. “The material the earth offers you and what you make of it…What are you thinking of, Gail?”
“The photograph on the wall of my office.”
Wynand’s obsession with Roark grows to the next level. He starts writing about Roark in the Banner — his work, principles, and approach to the extent that, his friend Austin Heller warns him.
“I think it’s fine, all those commissions he’s dumping on you. I’m sure he’ll be rewarded for that and lifted several rungs in hell, where he’s certain to go.
But he must stop that publicity he’s splashing you with in the Banner. You’ve got to make him stop. Don’t you know that the support of the Wynand papers is enough to discredit anyone?” Roark said nothing. “It’s hurting you professionally, Howard.”
Then, the Cortlandt home project saga ensues, resulting in Roark’s violent effort. Wynand, still obsessed, goes on to justify Roark’s principles and credentials in the Banner, against the larger public opinion. Toohey takes the warpath against Wynand, especially through the Banner’s shareholders.
Meanwhile, Wynand is obsessed with Roark still and offers all his resources to get Roark acquitted.
They walked out together, Roark leading him by the wrist, and by the time they reached the car, Wynand was calm. In the car, Wynand asked:
“You did it, of course?”
“Of course.”
“We’ll fight it out together.”
“If you want to make it your battle.”
“At the present estimate, my personal fortune amounts to forty million dollars. That should be enough to hire any lawyer you wish or the whole profession.”
At this point, we know that Wynand, that soulless, power-mongering, possessive overachiever, is over the top, obsessed with holding onto Roark, the creator par excellence.
The board meeting results in Wynand conceding his stated position of advocating Roark’s innocence to outright condoning, with a scathing article in Toohey’s ‘One Small Voice’ column. He recedes into his dark cave, and slowly winds down.
I never got out of here. I never got out. I surrendered to the grocery man — to the deck hands on the ferryboat — to the owner of the poolroom. You don’t run things around here. You don’t run things around here. You’ve never run things anywhere, Gail Wynand. You’ve only added yourself to the things they ran.
As Wynand resets, Roark empathizes with him and waits for his recovery. When Dominique announces her relationship with Roark, everything changes.
Wynand steps back, enquiring about the history of their relationship, ending with the friendship with Roark, but not giving up on his competence.
He presents a formal proposal to build the Wynand Building, the tallest skyscraper in New York City.
In their entire relationship, Wynand acts as the obsessive admirer turned friend, comes too close, and finally, realizes that Roark is his friend’s lover, then turns their relationship back to architect-client mode.
Wynand is a strong person, but certainly not a second-hander. Dominique gravitates steadily toward Roark, playing the reticent wife of Keating first then Wynand, Wynand undergoes turnabouts from a professional offer to an obsessive friendship, and finally back to a professional relationship.
Toohey & Wynand:
Wynand considers himself soulless and likes power and control. He has built and destroyed numerous lives and careers, frequently through his media empire. He is ruthless. This sounds much like Toohey, right?
The mission of Banner — its yellow journalism, and Toohey’s subdued column — One Small Voice resonate with the same audience — the proletarian masses. Wynand hardly thinks about Toohey and doesn't even consider meeting him. Toohey bluffs his way to get his attention, and things change when he introduces Dominique (then Mrs.Keating) to Wynand. Dominique is isolated like a bird in a gilded cage by Wynand.
At some point, Wynand points to Toohey their differences.
"I never thought I would come to agree with some of your social theories, Mr. Toohey, but I find myself forced to do so. You have always denounced the hypocrisy of the upper caste and preached the virtue of the masses. And now I find that I regret the advantages I enjoyed in my former proletarian state. Were I still in Hell’s Kitchen, I would have begun this interview by saying: Listen, louse!--but since I am an inhibited capitalist, I shall not do so." — Wynand
The declaration by Wynand firmly aligns him with Roark, not just because he likes Roark, but also because he sees himself as an uninhibited capitalist in his self-analysis. By positioning himself in the opposite camp, Wynand draws Toohey’s ire.
Toohey draws together the coterie of shareholders who are bourgeoisie but have a proletarian perspective. In the meeting, he opines about Wynand.
“Gail Wynand knows nothing about politics except of the most primitive kind,” said Toohey. “He still thinks in terms of the Democratic Club of Hell’s Kitchen. There was a certain innocence about the political corruption of those days, don’t you think so?”
When the ensuing banter with Roark, Wynand professes that he is the embodiment of Toohey’s ideals — here in lies Wynand’s dichotomy — the Banner was his soulless act, and so it reflects Toohey’s mission.
Wynand: Think of Ellsworth Toohey.”
Roark: “Why Ellsworth Toohey?”
Wynand: “I mean, the things he preaches, I’ve been wondering lately whether he really understands what he’s advocating. Selflessness in the absolute sense? Why, that’s what I’ve been. Does he know that I’m the embodiment of his ideal? Of course, he wouldn’t approve of my motive, but motives never alter facts. If it’s true selflessness he’s after, in the philosophical sense — and Mr. Toohey is a philosopher — in a sense much beyond matters of money, why, let him look at me. I’ve never owned anything. I’ve never wanted anything. I didn’t give a damn — in the most cosmic way Toohey could ever hope for.
Toohey and Wynand's relationship is antagonistic, as they fight for the control of the Banner. Toohey wins as Wynand concedes defeat, and Toohey’s scathing article on Roark finds its way to the first page of the Banner, and Wynand accepts it meekly. When Toohey wins the case with the labor board and returns to work, Toohey shuts down Banner, thereby stealing the march on his nemesis.
Read more of Wynand and Toohey in the The Prop — The Banner section below.
Roark & Keating:
After almost a decade, Keating is down and out, losing hope and gaining weight. The first person he calls after convincing Toohey to give him a chance on the Cortlandt affordable housing project is Roark. Keating has relied on Roark for his design expertise from their university days to the construction of the Cosmo-Slotnick building.
Roark has always refused to get his name attached or compensated. He agrees to design the Cortlandt building on one condition Keating has to follow the design to the tee and there can’t be any deviation. Keating tries to connect with Roark at various levels — emotional, servile, friendly, scholarly — but Roark does not connect; For him, the opportunity and the quality of work matters, and not the human relationship that Keating tries to foster. Keating explores this relationship at various levels, but with Roark, it simply does not work. Sample this dialogue.
Keating: “Howard — anything you ask. Anything. I’d sell my soul…”
Roark: “That’s the sort of thing I want you to understand. To sell your soul is the
easiest thing in the world. That’s what everybody does every hour of his life.
If I asked you to keep your soul — would you understand why that’s much harder?”Keating:“Yes…Yes, I think so.”
Roark: “Well? Go on. I want you to give me a reason why I should wish to design Cortlandt. I want you to make me an offer.”
Keating: “You can have all the money they pay me. I don’t need it. You can have twice the money. I’ll double their fee.”
Roark: “You know better than that, Peter. Is that what you wish to tempt me with?”
Keating: “You would save my life.”
Roark: “Can you think of any reason why I should want to save your life?”
Keating: “No.”
Roark: “Well?”
Keating:“It’s a great public project, Howard. A humanitarian undertaking.’
Roark simply wants to design the project. He has envisioned a solution that can make the design, and therefore the project, more affordable. On the other hand, Keating is not interested in the same goal; he is looking at this as his ticket for survival.
When Roark meets Keating after discovering that the construction is not following the design, Keating expresses his inability and admits his failure.
“It’s I who’ve destroyed you, Peter. From the beginning. By helping you. There are matters in which one must not ask for help nor give it. I shouldn’t have done your projects at Stanton. I shouldn’t have done the Cosmo-Slotnick Building. Nor Cortlandt. I loaded you with more than you could carry. It’s like an electric current too strong for the circuit. It blows the fuse. Now we’ll both pay for it. It will be hard on you, but it will be harder on me.”
Roark always had a soft corner for Keating. Keating has no compunctions, for he succumbs to Toohey’s pressure and reveals the contract between Roark and him, in an act of thankless betrayal. Roark, after all, has nothing to say about such a spineless friend.
Toohey & Keating:
Keating is reduced to a sedentary, decrepit life in Part 4 — the glorious days of the Cosmo-Slotnick Building are far behind him. Toohey has not been propping him anymore, as he has others like Gus Webb to puppeteer with.
Based on his suggestion from his partner Neil Dumont, Keating approaches Toohey for the Cortlandt project — an affordable housing project in Astoria, NY. Toohey berates him but offers him a chance.
Armed with the masterful design that he acquires from Roark, Keating gets the nod from Toohey and gets the construction contract.
Once Toohey surmises that Roark could be the designer in arrangement with Keating, he threatens Keating to reveal the truth behind Roark’s involvement. Keating turns over the contract he had signed with Roark, thereby betraying Toohey. Toohey browbeats Keating — at some point, admonishes Mrs. Keating not to enter the room — and walks away with the evidence he needs to put down Roark.
“That’s the answer, Peter. That’s my proof. You know me for what I am, you know what I’ve done to you, you have no illusions of virtue left. But you can’t leave me and you’ll never be able to leave me. You’ve obeyed me in the name of ideals. You’ll go on obeying me without ideals. Because that’s all you’re good for now….Good night, Peter.”
Ayn Rand captures the hard reality of the relationship between Keating, the parasite, and Toohey, the second-hander so clearly. What more would Toohey need to get what he wants, when he has the likes of Keatings?
Toohey & Roark:
Toohey and Roark don’t meet in Part 4 at all. Surprised?
They have Keating and Wynand in between; Keating as the vulnerable, weak parasite riding on Roark’s creation; and Wynand, as the advocate for Roark and Toohey’s archenemy for their control over the Banner.
Toohey does not have Roark in mind, but he is opposed to Roark's likes. When Keating meets Toohey for the Cortlandt project, Toohey explains that he does not deal with personalities, but principles.
Keating: “You failed there, didn’t you, Ellsworth? Look where he is now — Howard Roark.”
Toohey: “Oh dear me, how dull it is to discuss things with minds devoted to the obvious. You are utterly incapable of grasping principles, Peter. You think only in terms of persons. Do you really suppose that I have no mission in life save to worry over the specific fate of your Howard Roark? Mr. Roark is merely one detail out of many. I have dealt with him when it was convenient. I am still dealing with him — though not directly. I do grant you, however, that Mr. Howard Roark is a great temptation to me. At times I feel it would be a shame if I never came up against him personally again. But it might not be necessary at all. When you deal in principles, Peter, it saves you the trouble of individual encounters.”
They finally cross paths in the courthouse where Roark is the defendant in the case of the Cortlandt Project blast. But there are no personal encounters — but the clash of principles. As is obvious, Roark’s self-defense and his subsequent acquittal are the outcomes of the clash of their principles, which Toohey takes on in his stride.
Rand’s approach of using the props to connect the parasite, the creator and the second-hander ( in her words), reveals her focus on the plot. It is a great lesson for writers to use — create a prop with something for some characters and against others.
The Props:
“All the magicians have 52 mutual friends.”
― Amit Kalantri, Wealth of Words
The prop — the deck of cards for the magician called Rand comes out in each chapter. In Chapter 4, she brings in the Banner & Coldart Project.
The Banner:
The Banner is a yellow press that panders to the masses. Wynand built it from scratch and owned the majority of its ownership. Toohey writes a column called ‘One Small Voice’ — aptly titled reflecting his deprecative defense of the downtrodden and denouncing the dazzles of individual glory.
‘Sacrilege’ — the column screams when the Stoddard Temple project explodes.
“There has been a great deal of talk lately about somebody named Howard Roark. Since freedom of speech is our sacred heritage and includes the freedom to waste one’s time, there would have been no harm in such talk — beyond the fact that one could find so many endeavors more profitable than discussions of a man who seems to have nothing to his credit except a building that was begun and could not be completed. There would have been no harm, if the ludicrous had not become the tragic — and the fraudulent.”
If one can recall this in Part 1, Roark is tossed in the hot waters of adverse public opinion by Toohey’s frontal assault on Roark, as part of his master plan to ouster him from the architectural realm.
The Banner comes into play again as a battleground between Wynand and Toohey. The tussle between the two starts with Wynand contracting Roark, who is the antithesis of Toohey. Wynand’s advocacy of Roark’s competency, work, and act, especially in the light of his culpability in the Cortlandt case irks Toohey.
“THIS is a test case. What we think of it will determine what we are. In the person of Howard Roark, we must crush the forces of selfishness and antisocial individualism — the curse of our modern world — here shown to us in ultimate consequences. As mentioned at the beginning of this column, the district attorney now has in his possession a piece of evidence — we cannot disclose its nature at this moment — which proves conclusively that Roark is guilty. We, the people, shall now demand justice.” This appeared in “One Small Voice” on a morning late in May.
…Gail Wynand read it in his car, driving home from the airport. Then he read “One Small Voice.” He wondered for a moment what paper he held. He looked at the name on the top of the page. But it was the Banner, and the column was there, in its proper place, column one, first page, second section.”
Through the board and its chief editor Alvah Scarret, Toohey takes the battle of the Banner’s ownership to Wynand.
In a crucial board meeting, Wynand walks out, succumbing to the shareholders’ demand to reverse Banner’s position on Roark. When Toohey wins the labor board suit to reinstate him back as the columnist, he visits the Banner’s office triumphantly. At the end of the day, Wynand announces:
“It’s nine o’clock. You’re out of a job, Mr. Toohey. The Banner has ceased to exist…
… This was the end of the Banner….I think it’s proper that I should meet it with you.”
The prop dies in the culminating battle — Toohey wins, yet loses; Wynand loses the case, but wins by shutting down. A prop that can’t be wielded shall be destroyed.
The Coldart Project:
The affordable housing project in Astoria is supposed to be an example for the country and the world — falling right in the lap of Toohey. With no architect succeeding in fitting into the project economics, it takes Roark’s foresightful genius to crack the contract — but Roark wants the construction as per his design.
Ellsworth Toohey did not look at the plans which Keating had spread out on his desk. He stared at the perspective drawings. He stared, his mouth open. Then he threw his head back and howled with laughter. “Peter,” he said, “you’re a genius.”
This was the moment when the three meet — The Cortlandt project brings the protagonist, who wants to build, and the antagonist who wants to provide to the proletariat, through an intermediary, who leans on both to survive.
On Toohey’s allowance, the project gets distorted with the addition of his puppets, and then the other elements come into play. Despite the Keating’s effort to stick to Roark’s plan, things go quickly astray.
When Roark sees dismal construction which is disloyal to his design, he goes berserk, he blasts the building with dynamites. He is accused of sabotaging a social endeavor, and the public at large is against him. Despite such an insurmountable opposition, he wins by defending himself on the stand.
With the props done, let us examine the second tool used by Rand to disseminate the philosophy that she eschews — Socratic Dialogues and Soliloquys.
The Socratic Dialogues and Soliloquys
Ayn Rand places her philosophy in the form of Socratic dialogues:
- The conversation between Roark and Wynand on the yacht, where Roark makes an exception in engaging in a full-blown dialogue, brings out his views on Elsworth Toohey, Peter Keating, and the likes;
- In the final conversation between Toohey and Keating, when Toohey exposes his lust for power and control, subjugating men as supplicant, soulless creatures, and browbeats Keating to reveal his deal with Roark;
- Roark’s Monologue defending himself in the Cortlandt Building case defines his character as the ‘creator’ and the likes of ‘Toohey’ and others as ‘second-handers’, a full-blown extempore on Ayn Rand’s philosophy.
I will leave certain samples here to kindle the reader’s interest.
For 1:
Roark on Toohey:
I think Toohey understands that. That’s what helps him spread his vicious nonsense. Just weakness and cowardice. It’s so easy to run to others. It’s so hard to stand on one’s own record. You can fake virtue for an audience. You can’t fake it in your own eyes. Your ego is the strictest judge. They run from
it. They spend their lives running.
Roark on Keating:
He’s paying the price and wondering for what sin and telling himself that he’s been too selfish. In what act or thought of his has there ever been a self? What was his aim in life? Greatness — in other people’s eyes. Fame, admiration, envy — all that which comes from others. Others dictated his convictions, which he did not hold, but he was satisfied that others believed he held them. Others were his motive power and his prime concern. He didn’t want to be great, but to be thought great. He didn’t want to build, but to be admired as a builder.
For 2:
Toohey on his methods ( talking to Keating):
You. The world. It’s only a matter of discovering the lever. If you learn how
to rule one single man’s soul, you can get the rest of mankind. It’s the soul,
Peter, the soul. Not whips or swords or fire or guns. That’s why the Caesars,
the Attilas, the Napoleons were fools and did not last. We will. The soul,
Peter, is that which can’t be ruled. It must be broken.
For 3:
Roark on the defense stand:
No creator was prompted by a desire to serve his brothers, for his brothers rejected the gift he offered and that gift destroyed the slothful routine of their lives. His truth was his only motive. His own truth, and his own work to achieve it in his own way.
And more…
Nothing is given to man on earth. Everything he needs has to be produced. And here man faces his basic alternative: he can survive in only one of two ways — by the independent work of his own mind or as a parasite fed by the minds of others. The creator originates. The parasite borrows. The creator faces nature alone. The parasite faces nature through an intermediary.
I encourage the readers to read these three instances to understand how Ayn Rand places her underpinning philosophy through her characters.
So how is the end?
The Ocean, The Sky, and The Figure of Howard Roark…
I have covered this in Dominique’s POV, but I am drawn back to the simplicity of the last line.
Then there was only the ocean and the sky and the figure of Howard Roark.
Freedom is when you head to the place you want to be, unencumbered. The human mind is the absolute master — her mind now free to embrace the wind from the ocean, the vastness of the sky, and the person she wants to be with — Howard Roark, but all on her terms. The simple yet powerful conclusion culminates in the victory of Dominique — who has lived a life away first, then near Howard Roark, all along hiding their relationship from her husbands, Keating and Wynand, and finally, breaking out to reveal their relationship, ending her penitentiary journey of almost seven-odd years.
To live with Howard Roark, she had to give up her inhibitions of embracing herself, the original Dominique who felt absolutely, truly, and nakedly in love with Howard Roark, because he was raw and real, uncouth yet mature, complete by himself, yet waiting to accept her completeness.
She bettered Elsworth Toohey by playing along first, then defying him, and finally predicting his plots, yet found herself short in her journey to become Mrs. Roark and then achieved her goal — she was the perfect evolution of Ayn Rand’s characters.
Why we need Part 5:
With 4 long parts, one would wonder if we are done. I would say that Part 5 is the most important piece for two reasons. First, I aim to share my views on my review construct — the four men as the pillars and Dominique, as the beam connecting all. I have covered Dominique’s POV extensively in all four reviews, but it makes sense to look at the female perspective on Ayn Rand’s philosophy, which is the second point I want to cover.
I read Ayn Rand’s notes on why Roark MUST win. Do we consider sacrifice as ‘second-handedness’ or ‘success’ as the excellent factor? I have covered the characters and not the philosophy because I wear the hat of a reader who is constantly torn between the philosophy of sacrifice versus Rand’s professing of ‘success’. We will discover Ayn Rand’s knowledge of architecture and her method of writing — ‘fast plots, heroic individualists, collectivist villains’.
So, let us do Part 5, then.
~Ashok Subramanian © 2024
