Alec Mouhibian writes: "The only thing I don't understand is why David neglected to mention just how atrociously written it is."
I just don't understand why folks fail to regard the column that helped precipitate this discussion as holy writ to be either memorized or intimately re-consulted at every relevant juncture.
Look, I'll accept most of the further pejorative adjectives proffered to describe Valliant's book. Somebody buy me a thesaurus and I promise I'll do better.
However, I don't think the book is badly written on the level of sentence construction; as a longtime evaluator of books for a mail-order book service, I've seen too many sentences from the fifth dimension to make that claim. In a certain respect, Valliant can write. He is intelligible in his conjoining of subjects and predicates, the way people who yodel atop Swiss mountains are intelligible. But in my column I did at least hint at how awkwardly written the book is structurally. "It is the same story previewed at length, elaborated at length, and summarized at length by Valliant, who wants to make sure the reader gets it." And insofar as ludicrously and transparently bad argument is the stuff of bad writing, I think I made my point there too. That reading the book is like Fex-Exing your spirit into a black hole I will also readily concede.
From another angle, though, the book is quite expert in its yammering one-sidedness. I believe Valliant is a creature of high genius in this regard. Let's just say this is the guy you don't want to be stuck sitting next to on the train.
Rowland writes:
"I do hold it against Branden that he let his emotions dictate what he said. But more than that I hold it against those who have taken his and Barbara's books as 'gospel' to such an extent that they have become emotionally attached to the image portrayed in these books. And this to such an extent that they are willing to be incoherently angry at anyone who might present the other side."
And Bidinotto writes:
"I agree entirely with James' post #42. Since you [Rowland] do, too, that should be the end of it. Ayn Rand's personal value to me is her written legacy, not her personal life, whatever that was. And the personal value to me of her written legacy is simply incalculable."
Rand's personal life as well as her legacy is of value to me, since I am inspired by her life. Of course that doesn't mean I have to like everything she did, which I think may be Robert's point, or part of it. But here's the problem, Robert. It's not just Rand who qualifies for human being status. It's Nathaniel Branden and Barbara Branden. If human beings weren't involved I wouldn't expend two seconds on Valliant's febrile hack job.
Now, who is Rowland alluding to when he proclaims that somebody is "tak[ing] his and Barbara's books as 'gospel' to such an extent that they have become emotionally attached to the image portrayed in these books"? Not moi, perchance? And he's "holding it more against" me than he holds whatever ails Nathaniel Branden in his memoir against Nathaniel Branden--decried as a "spiritual rapist" in Valliant's book--merely because I don't slice and dice vicious injustice with the kind of somnolent detachment one deploys in tackling an arithmetic problem? Uh...hookay, guy, whatever.
Does Rowland even know my own assessments of Passion of Ayn Rand or Judgment Day? Frankly, I think Branden can be something of an ass at times, and certainly that his own conduct was not laudable vis-à-vis the End of the Affair, which seems to have dragged on longer than an episode of "Knot's Landing." But I also don't think he's the creature from the black lagoon. As I stated in my column, a column Rowland keeps insisting he actually read, I in fact a) find all parties culpable in various respects in the doings that are the subject of Valliant's book; and, b) am not going to essay juridical conclusions. Hell, I ain't the one who got dumped. Valliant, by contrast, is partisan with a vengeance, and evinces, on every page, the rampant water-carrying bias fecklessly attributed to me.
Judging by his characterization of Valliant's book, Rowland wants to conclude we must be "fair" to Rand, which "fairness" lets her off the hook entirely vis-à-vis her own conduct, neglecting even the cost she extracted from her husband; while, in point of fact, being strenuously unfair to other principals. Because what else is Valliant but obviously and strenuously unfair? And sure, Nathaniel Branden is an easy target, but that doesn't make him the infinitely deep well of malevolence that Valliant pretends he is.
The most Rowland will concede is that, yes, it would be great if Valliant could write as well as Shakespeare and Mencken combined; but at least he's spot-on giving the "other side." Valliant's is a book that is scrupulously and unscrupulously sadistic toward its subjects. A book that pretends the author is a fly on the wall of the brain of each party and that the sheer fact that his brief is mind-numbingly exhaustive from the perspective of its conscientiously narrow purview could demonstrate that it is in fact exhaustive and objective in its coverage of all the relevant facts. Sorry, it just ain't so. For endorsing this tool's assassination tool, Rowland owes the Brandens an apology.
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