Two topics catch my whimsy at the moment - first, the bracelet and all it symbolizes, and second, the source of Philip Reardon's sense of entitlement.
The bracelet. It is, of course, a chain, and as a symbol of bondage it has already been pointed out that it cuts two ways - first, the bondage of the individual wearing it toward Reardon and second, the reverse of the same. Clearly he is a prisoner of his own feelings for family (however unmerited by any real return of love, but more of that later). Clearly those are the bonds he must break before he can contemplate a refuge in Galt's Gulch or the like.
But more to the point, it's a bracelet. What else would one expect him to make for his wife of a small batch of prototypical metal? At what point does one's insistence on thinking in symbols get in the way of communication rather than enhance it? I recall making this point in argument with an insistent feminist who was appalled at where the bracelet ended up - no spoilers, I promise - because she felt that Rand was challenging her conviction that the relationships between the sexes were purely a social construct. Rand was, actually, and when we get to that part of the book it's going to be a very interesting discussion.
That was quite a debate, actually - we touched on whether people think in symbols or words (yes, in her case the feminist was the postmodern) or whether they're really the same thing. I'm ashamed to admit I ended the debate by cheating, pointing out that she was wearing a charm bracelet at the time. When next I saw her the bracelet was off. I still feel a little bad about that.
Now, the sense of entitlement evidenced in Philip Reardon turns into one of the overarching themes of AS. It is simply this - it is, in actuality, a feeling of superiority, and it stems from the idea that all of them in the room have succeeded in making a living off Reardon's creation by doing things that he did not - marketing, on the more innocent hand, bribery and corruption on the other. (And isn't "Wesley Mouch" one of the great names in fiction? I mean, given...) This is, if you like, derivative wealth, but it is clear that Rand regards it as earnable only by virtue of the fact that the society that mandates its necessity is irremedially corrupt in doing so. That does not make it less necessary, or Reardon less innocent for either not realizing it or refusing to play by a set of debased rules.
His family's sense of superiority is, in Rand's terms, the same felt by a thief toward his victim. It is the same sense of superiority we see in media, celebrity, and politician in the present day, as if a cutpurse with a Harvard degree is inherently more deserving of the loot than the person who accumulated it, the moocher a superior creature to the taxpayer. Washington, D.C., is lousy with this specimen. Can anyone imagine Obama and Pelosi and Reid actually regarding a welder as their rightful employer, to whom they are accountable? Or as their inferior, to be led, cajoled, manipulated, and fooled?
We know, of course, Rand's answer to that, or rather we're about to find out.
I agree with your post. I just wanted to add that bit about Ayn Rand, the woman.
Something for later, because this is a fascinating discussion, is how would the relationship between Hank and his wife had changed if they had a child? I wonder how it would have affected Hank’s decisions near the end. As much as I love Atlas Shrugged and many of Rand’s other works, she never brings children into the mix, possibly because she never had any of her own and could not describe this relationship from a personal viewpoint. Children do change your world perspective. People love their children unconditionally regardless of how they turn out, and will sacrifice for them without hesitation.