I originally wrote my What I’m Reading reactions for Dune and Dune Messiah in the summer of 2006. They were supposed to be part of a series of reactions covering the entire Dune saga, but I got distracted by other projects and never finished it.

Basically, I think the Dune sequels are almost universally under-rated.

In order to complete proper reactions for the later books at this late juncture, however, I would need to re-read the series. That’s unlikely to happen for awhile, so — in the interim — here’s a quick summary of my thoughts.

CHILDREN OF DUNE

I think that either Dune Messiah or Children of Dune is the weakest book in the series. However, it’s difficult to figure out which book is worse because it depends on how you choose to look at the problem

On the one hand, Children of Dune is almost certainly a better novel than Dune Messiah. On the other hand, it is also very derivative of Dune Messiah. Essentially, Children of Dune retells the same story: In Dune Messiah, Herbert tells the story of how Paul slips out of the shackles his prescience had placed upon the human race. And it culminates in the birth of twins he did not foresee, which (for me) pretty clearly indicates that Paul’s vision has been derailed.

But then Children of Dune comes along and says, “Nah, just kidding. You need to pursue the Golden Path to derail the shackles of prescience.” And then it promptly retells the same story as Dune Messiah, starring Paul’s son instead of Paul.

Given the somewhat half-baked quality of Dune Messiah, I suspect that this is literally a case of Frank Herbert wanting a do-over. But the derivative nature of Children of Dune greatly diminishes it if you’re reading the series in sequential order.

On the other hand, if I had to choose one book or the other, I think it’s a no-brainer to choose Children of Dune.

GRADE: A-

GOD-EMPEROR OF DUNE

I think it safe to say that God-Emperor of Dune is probably the most-reviled book in the series. But I actually enjoyed it a lot. It’s a very different novel from the earlier books. It’s a contemplative, almost zen-like poem — but one laced with deeply horrific tragedy. Watching Leto slowly strip away his own humanity in order to save all of humanity was a profound experience for me.

I think God-Emperor of Dune also speaks to the problem many people have with the series: Herbert didn’t write sequels in the traditional sense of the word.

If you look at works like Star Wars, Lethal Weapon, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, Bridget Jones’s Diary, or Asimov’s Foundation, for example, you will find that the sequels are all pretty similar in tone, content, and style to the original work.

But that’s really not the case with the Dune novels. Even Dune Messiah is fairly distinct from Dune, and God-Emperor of Dune is a completely radical departure. And I can easily see how someone who enjoyed Dune would find absolutely nothing appealing about the style or structure of God-Emperor.

Fortunately, I like both styles of fiction. And, for me, the contrast between the two only enriches the experience.

GRADE: A-

HERETICS OF DUNE / CHAPTERHOUSE OF DUNE

I enjoyed Heretics of Dune and Chapterhouse of Dune quite a bit. They, again, took the Dune saga in a radically different direction and developed the milieu in ways I had never expected.

But it’s also difficult to know exactly what to make of them. Unlike the earlier books, they were specifically conceived and written as a trilogy… but Herbert died before the trilogy was completed. So it feels a little bit like reading The Fellowship of the Ring and The Two Towers if Return of the King had never been written.

They’re good books… but you’re left dangling with no sense of conclusion or thematic closure.

When I was reading these books, the concluding duology — written by Kevin Anderson and Brian Herbert — had not yet been published. Although I’ve generally avoided those books like the plague, the next time I read through the Dune saga I’ll probably break down and read the duology. If nothing else, it’s supposedly based on Frank Herbert’s original outline — so it will hopefully give me some sense of where Herbert was planning to go.

GRADE (HERETICS): A
GRADE (CHAPTERHOUSE): A

SPOILER WARNING

The following reaction will contain spoilers for both Dune and Dune Messiah. As a policy, I’m trying to keep the spoilers in What I’m Reading reactions to a bare minimum and limited to the first fifty pages of the book. If the spoilers exceed those guidelines, I’ll make a point to include a note up front.

DUNE MESSIAH

From a certain point of view, Dune Messiah is a disappointment: It simply doesn’t live up to the incredibly high standard set by Dune itself.

Some of the problems with Dune Messiah are failures in the basic craft of storytelling; flaws which would be notable in any work. For example, there are far too many scenes – particularly in the first half of the novel – which are told in flashback or exposition instead of being shown. One is often left with the feeling that Herbert just didn’t quite feel up to the challenge of telling the story to be found in those scenes.

This central flaw, in fact, contributes to many of the problems in Dune Messiah. For example, the stellar character conflicts of Dune are notably blunted in Dune Messiah… often because key components of those dramas are ignored or elided over. For example, there is a cold war tension between Chani and Irulan which begins to flare into open conflict at the beginning of the novel. But then the resolution of that interplay is simply shoved off-screen and then cursorily resolved in an almost incidental and completely off-hand fashion. (And this despite the fact that its resolution is absolutely pivotal in setting up the novel’s conclusion.)

What ultimately keeps Dune Messiah from achieving the true status of classic is that it fails to find that precious gestalt of Dune: Where Dune operated on many different levels at once, Dune Messiah is stripped down to a far simpler dynamic. Elements of the political thriller, character drama, and high tragedy remain… but Herbert can’t quite seem to keep all the balls in the air.

For one example, let us consider the tragic grandeur of Yueh’s betrayal in Dune. Herbert almost manages to capture the dynamic of high tragedy once again in his portrayal of Paul’s prescient vision turned to bane. Paul, trapped by the inexorable fate seen within his prescient vision and bound by the irresistible momentum of the race consciousness lying behind the Jihad carried out in his name, has all the makings of such a tragedy. But Herbert lets it slip through his fingers: The prescience itself, although brilliantly handled in many respects (such as the scene where Paul must let a doom befall himself in order to find a greater good), also ends up denying some of the central necessities of true tragedy.

I also think that Dune Messiah is a difficult story specifically because it ties Paul in those chains. I think a lot of people (myself included) read the end of Dune as a triumph… and Dune Messiah makes it explicit that Paul failed and failed badly. That’s a tough pill to swallow. I know it’s what made me put the book down the first time I tried reading through the Dune saga: It wasn’t the sequel I had written in my own head. I wanted the Messiah Triumphant and I got something akin to the False God’s Fall.

With all that being said, I would be seriously remiss in ignoring the strengths of Dune Messiah, particularly in the book’s second half: Duncan Idaho’s personal struggle is a very powerful and well-handled piece of characterization. Paul’s manipulation of his prescient vision — his constant struggle to find the slightest loophole through which to escape the chains of his own future — is often powerfully dramatic. And there’s also some great expansion done on the nifty, sensawunda stuff, along with the depth and unique feel of the Dune universe (Tleilaxu face dancers, for example).

But, with that being said, I would still love to read a version of Dune Messiah in which Herbert managed to:

(1) Avoid the storytelling errors in the first half.

(2) Expand Alia’s personal drama (something which would have also added a great deal of depth to Children of Dune).

(3) Let the Chani and Irulan conflict play out with the type of detailed political intrigue that he displayed himself fully capable of in Dune.

(4) Communicate the by-play of the mutual and interacting betrayals between the conspirators (and let more of those by-plays and betrayals play themselves out).

(5) Handle the framing devices of the story better.

In short, Dune Messiah reads like a rushed novel. There’s a lot of potential in the basic structure of the story, but little or none of it is realized in actual practice. Perhaps if Herbert had taken the time to develop the novel more fully, we might have gotten a work that would stand up better in the inevitable comparison to its predecessor.

GRADE: B-

Frank Herbert
Published: 1969
Publisher: Ace
Cover Price: $7.99
ISBN: 0441172695
Buy Now!

To read a spoiler-free review of Dune, click here.

For some spoiler-filled thoughts about the book, go ahead and read more…

(more…)

It’s interesting reading Dune immediately following a mass-reading of Vernor Vinge’s catalog, because both authors are essentially fascinated by post-humanity: Both see something essentially incomprehensible in the transhuman, but they approach it in different ways. Vinge chooses to approach it at oblique angles – from the POV of children; or on the rapid approach to it; or from a great distance; or through the lens of the primitive.

Herbert, on the other hand, tends to tackle the transhuman directly, but he does so from a fundamentally religious point of view.

To be clear on the distinction here: Vinge also equates transhumanity with godhood (the references to “Applied Theology” and “deicide”, for example, in A Fire Upon the Deep). But Herbert actually structures his narrative around a religious viewpoint – he couches his understanding of the transhuman through symbolism and prophecy; through divine mystery and ceremony.

Of course, the post-humanities of Vinge and Herbert are not exactly identical, either. But it would be interesting to see Vinge tackle Herbert’s thought (as expressed in an interview): “I had this theory that superheroes were disastrous for humans, that even if you postulated an infallible hero, the things this hero set in motion fell eventually into the hands of fallible mortals. What better way to destroy a civilization, society or a race than to set people into the wild oscillations which follow their turning over their critical judgment and decision-making faculties to a superhero?”

And it would be equally interesting to have seen Herbert tackle Vinge’s thesis: “Let an ultraintelligent machine be defined as a machine that can far surpass all the intellectual activities of any any man however clever. Since the design of machines is one of these intellectual activities, an ultraintelligent machine could design even better machines; there would then unquestionably be an “intelligence explosion,” and the intelligence of man would be left far behind. Thus the first ultraintelligent machine is the _last_ invention that man need ever make, provided that the machine is docile enough to tell us how to keep it under control. … It is more probable than not that, within the twentieth century, an ultraintelligent machine will be built and that it will be the last invention that man need make.”

But I digress.

For those of you completely unfamiliar with Dune, it may suffice to say that it is one of those works grouped with the Foundation Trilogy or The Lord of the Rings: A transformative and pivotal classic which cast a long shadow upon the entire genre from the moment it was published.

To understand how Dune achieved this stature, consider for the moment a seemingly simple question: What is the most impressive thing about Dune?

The trick is not in any particular answer. It is in the breadth of answers your question will provoke. Many people will point to the planet of Arrakis itself — painstakingly rendered and with a completely realized ecology. Others will point to the manipulation of prophecy. Or the action-packed battle sequences. Or the alien cultures. Or the evocative future history. Or the exploration of religious themes.

The story of Dune is a political thriller; it’s a character drama; it’s high tragedy; it’s mythological; it’s religious. And then Herbert tells it in the style of historical fiction within one of the most deeply realized science fiction settings ever realized on paper. It’s a gestalt creation.

And what do I, personally, find most impressive about Dune? The fact that Herbert successfully realized a story with the emotional depth and archetypal resonance of a Greek tragedy. I’ve probably read, watched, and listened to the Dune story more than two dozen times. And yet, every single time, there’s something fresh and new which can be gleaned from the experience.

GRADE: A+

For additional comments on Dune, which include SPOILERS, click here.

Frank Herbert
Published: 1965
Publisher: Ace
Cover Price: $7.99
ISBN: 0441172717
Buy Now!

Every so often I’ll discuss plot holes in movies. Sometimes I’m critiquing a movie I liked. Other times I’m excorciating a movie I hated.

For example, last month I posted a lengthy essay discussing (among other things) some significant problems with Batman Begins and The Dark Knight.

Another example would be the plethora of plot holes Peter Jackson created in The Two Towers. (Gratuitous examples include teleporting ents, the elven legion from Lothlorien that teleports to Helm’s Deep, and Faramir’s strangely psychic ability to know events taking place in Rohan on the same day that they occur.)

And frequently, during the ensuing discussions, someone will trot out what I’ve come to refer to as the Big Sleep Fallacy.

The Big Sleep is a classic movie starring Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall. It’s a noir detective story based on Raymond Chandler’s novel of the same name and Chandler also wrote the screenplay. It’s widely considered to be one of the best movies ever made. It’s also remembered as having an incredibly convoluted plot. The most notable example of this is that one of the murders in the film is never explained. When asked about it later, Chandler himself couldn’t identify the murderer. It’s a huge gaping plot hole.

And the Big Sleep Fallacy looks like this: “The Big Sleep was a great movie. The Big Sleep has a famous plot hole. Therefore, there’s nothing wrong with having plot holes.”

Err… No. If you think that makes sense, I’m afraid you’re in dire need of a remedial logic class.

If you want to go for the weaker conclusion that “movies can have plot holes and still be good”, then you’re in decent shape. But with the stronger conclusion you’re assuming the unstated premise that “great movies are without flaw”. And even if you can swallow such a patently ridiculous premise, you’ve now introduced an ancillary conclusion that “plot holes aren’t flaws”… which also appears to be patently ridiculous.

You can also scent the fundamental error here by noting that The Big Sleep is specifically noteworthy for having such a significant plot hole while still being considered a great movie. In other words, that type of thing is unusual and therefore merits mention. If great movies routinely had gaping plot holes lying around, then the appearance of one in The Big Sleep wouldn’t be of notable significance.

… and that’s my rant for the day.