I read Atlas Shrugged and the Fountainhead, the summer before I started college, when I stayed with my grandmother and step-grandfather. One of his sons had read them. I wasn’t terribly impressed, though I actually took slightly more away from the Fountainhead, mainly pursue what you want to do, which was probably the wrong lesson. Sadly, her sex scenes were so bad even me as a horny 18 year old in 1988 didn’t get much out of them.