I have been thinking about reading it for about sixty-seven years now.
And I even have this [as shown] pristine hardcover 1968 reprint of the original 1943 Bobbs-Merrill first edition.
So what’s the holdup?
From whence cometh my January molasses attitude toward diving into this book, which begins with the immortal sentence “Howard Roark laughed.” [?]
I don’t know. Honest to God. I have wanted to read it for so long.
When I consider some of the books I have been wanting to read for eons, I notice that they do tend to have a lot of pages… that’s at least one determining factor. For instance, here is my current BIHBTARBNAR List:
1. The Fountainhead – Ayn Rand
2. Middlemarch – George Eliot
3. The Odyssey – Homer
4. Barney’s Version – Mordecai Richler
5. Trinity – Leon Uris
6. Sophie’s Choice – William Styron
7. Russka – Edward Rutherfurd
8. The Crimson Petal and the White – Michel Faber
9. Atlas Shrugged – Ayn Rand
10. The Three Musketeers – Alexandre Dumas
Does this sort of procrastinatory thing happen to you also?