a little longer in Kay Gondaâs world. This manuscript is so good, I felt, itâs a shame it hasnât been made public. At last, thanks to Richard Ralston, its time has come.
During his lifetime, an author publishes his mature, accomplished works. But when he has gone, it is a common practice to bring out his unpublished material, including his juvenilia, his early, falteringattempts. This is especially common if he has become an immortal in his field whose every word, early or late, is avidly consumed by a large body of readers and a growing number of scholars. What you are about to read is one of ARâs juvenilia written in her twenties when she was still ignorant of everything she would learn in the next fifty years. Thatâs all this novel is, nothing more.
But how many mature writers, I wonder, can match the genius of AR or create her universe of logic and passion? Even in embryonic form, she is still thereâand thus still here.
Leonard Peikoff
Aliso Viejo, California
A Note on the Manuscript of
Ideal
I n 2004, while preparing recommendations about adding additional material to the revised edition of
The Early Ayn Rand
, I reviewed a manuscript of Ayn Randâs short novel
Ideal
in the collection of the Ayn Rand Archives. I gave it only a cursory look because the play of
Ideal
was written after the novel, and as that was the medium upon which Ayn Rand had finally settled, only the play had been included in the original collection.
In 2012, I (finally) decided that the novel deserved a closer look. I had heard wishful comments over many years from readers of Ayn Rand wondering if there might not be other novels somewhere in her papers. I decided that since there actually was such a novel, it should be reviewed carefully.
I read the 32,000-word typescript prepared in 1934 by the Rialto Service Bureau at 1501 Broadway in New York City. It immediately commanded my attention as unmistakably the work of Ayn Rand. I was also struck by the added dimension that the novel form provided. Two points in particular immediately stood out for me. The expositionmade possible by the longer letters from Kay Gondaâs fans as against their briefer versions in the playâwhich must be delivered as static speeches onstage or projected mechanically for reading by an audienceâwas often both clarifying and moving. The longer version of the letter from Johnnie Dawes, for example, provides a greater understanding of his character and action. Further, in the novelâs first chapter, what amounts to an illuminating studio tour of Hollywood offices and personalities has no counterpart in the play. Both of these points greatly enrich the context for Kay Gondaâs world and there are many other such enrichments.
Interesting in itself is how the novel demonstrates Ayn Randâs understanding of a crucial difference between writing for readers versus for listeners at a performance. More details and even more clarity, I think, are possible in a novel. But, of course, the dramatic impact of certain kinds of speech and the moral force they can convey are more effective onstage.
As Dr. Peikoff had probably not seen the novel for thirty years, it seemed like a good time to bring it to his attention. He was happy that I did so and asked me to quote in this Note what he said to me then: âWithout you, Richard, where would Objectivism be?â
Richard E. Ralston
Publishing Manager
Ayn Rand Institute
1
Kay Gonda
âIf itâs murderâwhy donât we hear more about it? If itâs notâwhy do we hear so much? When interviewed on the subject, Miss Frederica Sayers didnât say yes, and she didnât say no. She has refused to give out the slightest hint as to the manner of her brotherâs sudden death. Granton Sayers died in his Santa Barbara mansion two days ago, on the night of May 3rd. On the evening of May 3rd Granton Sayers had dinner with a famousâoh, very