BY KURT KEEFNER
While Ayn Rand rightly gets quite a bit of press lately for her writings, her former mentor Isabel Paterson has been largely forgotten by history. Is it time for a revival?
America in the Eighteenth Century had its Founding Fathers, but freedom in the modern era had Founding Mothers. Three of them, to be exact.
One of them was Ayn Rand, whose 1943 novel The Fountainhead put her on the liberty map. A second was Rose Wilder Lane, with her book Discovery of Freedom. The third was Isabel Paterson, now most famous for her treatise on political economy, The God of the Machine.
Paterson is best known to fans of Ayn Rand because of Rand’s review of The God of the Machine, which various Objectivist book services have promoted. Paterson was also a friend and mentor to Rand. But as Stephen Cox shows in his 2004 biography, The Woman and the Dynamo, Paterson was a notable person of many achievements outside of her connection to Rand.
Paterson was a popular novelist in the 1920s and 30s. She was one of the leading book reviewers in the middle of the Twentieth Century. And she was a staunch critic of the New Deal, totalitarianism, and an interventionist foreign policy.
![]() The Woman and the Dynamo, by Stephen Cox
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But Isabel Paterson’s greatest achievement may have been — herself.
Isabel Paterson was born Mary Isabel Bowler in 1886 on a Canadian island in Lake Huron. Her family lived on the frontier, in several places along both sides of the border. Her father seemed to be pursuing get-rich-quick schemes and Mary didn’t have much respect for him.
Like a lot of frontier people, Mary learned how to do many things. She liked to point out later that the frontier was not so devoid of culture as people thought it was. There were a lot of theater companies, for example. And people read voraciously, whatever they could get their hands on.
Mary only had a couple years of formal education. Otherwise she was a classic autodidact. This is, I think, the key to her character. Autodidacts tend to be independent, verging on idiosyncratic. Because they are so good at learning for themselves, they sometimes do not see the benefits of the generally-accepted hierarchy of knowledge. Of course, neither are they bogged down in it.
Paterson’s eclectic self-education made her fit for work as a secretary and a journalist, although she would take other work if necessary. She married, although they didn’t stay together, and she adopted her middle name as her first name. Thus Mary Bowler became Isabel Paterson.
She got her first two novels published when she was 30 and wrote several more over the years. Cox describes them in some detail, but I can’t say they made much impact on me, based on the descriptions. There is a strong autobiographical element to some of the stories, but the characters based on Paterson do not seem to have her zest or wit.
About most of the novels, it would be easy to say that they suffer from a lack of a hero on a grand scale and a well-constructed plot. That would be the standard Objectivist evaluation.
More exact would be to say their characters were created on the scale of real industrialists and merchants of principle, not godlike archetypes. As far as the plots go, they seem intermittently to integrate Paterson’s free market principles at a fundamental level. In her historical novel, The Singing Season, set in late medieval Spain, the central conflict is between a merchant with capitalist ideas and a king who resents him and plots to take his wealth. In other novels, the conflicts are less focused.
Eventually she went East and ended up working for the New York Herald Tribune, a major paper in its day. In 1924 she began a column called “Turns with a Bookworm.” It was supposed to be about publishing news and gossip, but for a quarter of a century it provided Paterson a pulpit on all subjects, but mostly books. She was the most read, most feared personage in the literary world. I wonder whether this column was an inspiration for Ellsworth Toohey’s column, “One Small Voice,” in its influence and eclecticism — though not its principles, of course.
Her wit was impressive — and often caustic. She once said that Hemingway “was as good as one can be without being a great writer…. His characters have no histories and no backs to their heads.” And that’s a mild dose of the vitriol!
Paterson knew Rand mainly in the Forties. They were kindred spirits, but Rand was critical of Paterson’s “mysticism” (which amounted to a kind of deism and a tentative belief in reincarnation) while Paterson was concerned about Rand’s abuse of amphetamines. Paterson was 20 years older than Rand and much better read. Rand literally sat at her feet and soaked up ideas in economics and American history.
But two such strong, opinionated personalities are bound to clash. Paterson did not suffer fools gladly and she could be quite rude and even mean to Rand’s conservative friends. This was too much for Rand and the two went their separate ways.
Paterson’s life in her later years was parallel with Rand’s, in that they both drove off friends. Mercifully, neither of them died bereft of companionship, but most of each woman’s extensive circle was gone.
Isabel Paterson was a fascinating person: brilliant, independent, funny, an American original comparable to Mark Twain or H.L. Mencken. If she’s not as well known as they are, it’s because most of her best pieces, as book reviews, were ephemeral. (Perhaps Cox could oversee a collection of the best of her column, including its amusing cartoons.)
Is there a moral to this story? One does not wish to judge a life too much by its end, because we all die vulnerable; but Paterson’s life, like Rand’s, does offer a cautionary tale of what happens when you hold people to too high a standard.
Most people aren’t very good at thinking in principles, just like most people aren’t very good at math. Those of us who are, should not let this difference make us bitter and excessively critical.
Of course, this lesson takes nothing away from the glory and accomplishments of either Rand or Patterson. Each left an inspiring and important legacy, from which we all may learn.
Kurt Keefner is a writer and teacher who has been published in The Journal of Ayn Rand Studies and Philosophy Now Magazine. He is currently working on a book about mind-body wholism. He lives near Washington, DC, with his wife, the author Stephanie Allen.