OVERALL RATING: 7.5/10

Spoiler Warning: It is incredibly difficult to review a book like Dune without discussing the major plot points. For that reason, this will be a spoiler-filled review. You’ve been warned!

REVIEW

Dune, the 1965 novel by Frank Herbert, has seen a recent rise to relevance on the back of the 2021 movie adaption starring Timothée Chalamet and Zendaya. As someone who prefers to read the source material and form my mental images before seeing a director’s interpretation, I knew I was going to have to read Dune before allowing myself to watch the film. At the point of writing this review, I have completed the book but have yet to watch the movie, to best preserve my interpretations of the text.

Before starting, I knew very little about the story of Dune besides the fact that the novel is considered a godfather of the science-fiction genre and heavily inspired famous works such as Star Wars, Tremors, Mad Max, and countless others. For the most part, I was diving into this world blind.

Herbert immediately throws the reader into the deep end by taking a “you’ll figure it out eventually” approach to world-building. Many plot points, characters, groups, and physical items are introduced with little explanation, and, early on, things can get downright confusing.

After pushing through the first hundred or so pages things start to fall into place and, while many aspects of the story are left intentionally vague, I found myself following Dune’s core story without much issue. Herbert crafts an incredibly fleshed-out world but he certainly makes you work to understand its nuances.

PLOT

Dune follows the story of the royal Atreides family, more specifically the family’s young son Paul, as they vie for power as a part of a space-traveling society controlled by a supreme Emperor. When the Emperor begins to see the Atreides family as a threat to his power, he hatches a twisted plan to give control of the planet Arrakis, also known as Dune, to the Atreides’ before allowing (and secretly supporting) their rival power, the cartoonishly evil Harkonnen family, in retaking control of the planet and crushing House Atreides.

Arrakis is the only known planet that produces “spice melange”, the most valuable resource in the universe that allows for space travel, serves as an incredibly addictive drug, and has the ability to expand human consciousness. It is cultivated through the dangerous practice of spice mining, which involves dodging massive sandworms that strike anything making vibrations across the desert planet’s sand surface.

After being betrayed by one of their own, Paul’s father Duke Leto is killed and Paul and his mother Jessica limp away into the hostile desert to escape the wrath of House Harkonnen. From here, Paul and Jessica team up with the planet’s distinct local desert-dwelling population, known as the Fremen, to retake the planet that is rightful theirs.

In addition to all of this, Paul’s mother, Jessica, is a member of the Bene Gesserit, an elusive and powerful group of women with higher powers of perception and suggestiveness who have secretly been genetically breeding the human race in an attempt to produce a male “chosen one” who they will be able to control to shape the universe to their desires.

Jessica has raised him in this tradition and taught him many skills that include enhanced perception and limited use of “the voice”, an ability to influence others’ behavior by speaking suggestive phrases in the proper tones. As the novel unfolds, it becomes increasingly clear that Paul is the chosen one the Bene Gesserit have been searching for but he will not be controlled by their desires.

Overall, I found the books’ baseline plot to be relatively cookie-cutter: the chosen one must restore his father’s house to glory after a shocking fall from grace. Yet, it feels like the real purpose of this book lies somewhere between the lines; with Herbert using the story of Dune to get across his deeper commentary on a variety of subjects.

There is so much to discuss in this book that an entire college course could easily be dedicated to it. Therefore, I will focus in on the five main takeaways I had when reading the novel.

THEMES

The psychology of mythmaking and its influence on controlling populations, establishing power, giving purpose, and bending others to one’s will

In their quest to establish a chosen one who will take control of the galaxy, the Bene Gesserit have embedded local populations across the galaxy with carefully crafted myths and religious views that fit perfectly with the rise of their champion. This PSYOP brainwashing allows Paul to quickly gain the alliance of the Freman by convincing them that he is their long-prophesied “Lisan al Gaib”; the one who will terraform the surface of Arrakis to make it more hospitable for humanity.

Throughout the novel Paul frequently reflects on the power of this brainwashing, noting how his accomplishments will likely be over-exaggerated in future tellings of his story. As a reader, I felt conflicted as the Fremen were fighting for a cause they desired but were also being influenced by religious manipulations from a more advanced society with objectives of its own.

Is it ethical for Paul to take advantage of this conditioning? Can he be a just leader if his own people don’t fully understand what drove his rise to power?

As Paul faces off with the Harkonnen heir in one of the book’s last scenes, he notes to himself that no matter if he lives or dies in this fight, the strength of his myth will inspire a violent jihad that will sweep across the galaxy. This is the power of the myth he has cultivated.

Clearly, Frank Herbert had some feelings about organized religion/societal myths and their potential to be used as a control device over the masses. Time and time again, history has proven his point.

The inherent danger in an all-powerful religious and military leader taking power

As stated previously, the core plot of Dune is not particularly unique or interesting as a chosen-one character takes control of a planet on his way to further galactic domination. Yet, the book doesn’t necessarily frame this as a positive thing. It gives us plenty of warnings regarding Paul’s nature as a leader, and by the end of the book, I was convinced he was a greater danger than benefit to the galaxy.

For example, Paul’s father Duke Leto is considered an incredible leader due to the value he places on the human lives of his people. This virtue drives the strict loyalty and dedication those on his side feel for him.

This quality of Leto’s is framed by a scene early in the novel in which he risks his personal safety to save his men, at the loss of some expensive equipment required for spice mining. In a mirroring scene at the end of the book, Paul is unconcerned with the loss of his soldier’s lives as long as they have enough money for the necessary mechanical repairs. His father’s old right-hand man, Gurney Halleck, notes this difference and worries about what it could mean for the future.

In addition, as Paul’s powers grow, he begins to see the branching paths that make up his possible future. He continually sees a galactic jihad being conducted under his banner and while he initially tries to avoid it, by the end of the book it seems destined to occur. Instead of being a story about the chosen-one destroying evil for good, Dune offers a hero who will upend the galaxy’s power structures but may not improve them all that much. I found this distinction to be one of the things that set the book apart from similar, more generic stories.

The environmental and societal impact of viewing land (in this case a planet) as simply a producer of raw materials

It is clear that Frank Herbert had an interest in environmentalism and the way human actions such as resource mining impact landscapes. One of the core tensions in the novel is between those in power on Arrakis who simply view it as a production vehicle for spice, and therefore boatloads of money, and the planet’s natives who dream of one day terraforming Dune to include more plant life and open water sources.

To me, this theme came off as a not-so-subtle anti-capitalist commentary on environmental degradation through natural resource cultivation. As this book features a clear Islamic influence, I drew connections to humanity’s desperate need for oil and the instability and violence this has created in many Middle Eastern countries.

When one resource becomes prized above all the rest, whether it be oil or spice, it gives extreme power to whoever controls it. Paul was able to take advantage of this truth to eventually seize control of Arrakis, and in our world, we must always be aware of this unfortunate reality.

The value of different cultural perspectives

Herbert makes a clear point to emphasize the importance of the native population of Arrakis’ knowledge and societal perspective. As Duke Leto realizes early on, the Fremen hold “desert power” on Arrakis, something vastly different than the political power harnessed by the Harkonnens. While those in control, and in search of profits, view the Fremen as a poor society to be ignored, their knowledge of the planet and cultural beliefs end up playing a crucial role in the events of the novel and the future of the galaxy.

Without the Fremen, Paul never would have grown into the person we find him as at the end of the book. It is their ritual of “taking the Water of Life” that brings him the ability to see the past, future, and present, and gives Paul vital intel concerning the book’s final battle. Herbert seems to be an advocate for open-mindedness and someone who sees the gaps in understanding that form when one can only see a situation from their worldview or point of reference.

The fact that titles often don’t always reflect actual power, with many key stakeholders lingering in the background

Herbert closes the book with a powerful statement from Jessica to Chani, the mother of Paul’s (now dead) child. While Paul loves Chani, his desire for galactic control leads him to take the Emperor’s daughter’s hand in marriage after he defeats him in battle. Chani is upset and remarks that she doesn’t believe Paul when he says he will stay loyal to her and never consummate the marriage. The following quotation ends the novel:

“Do you know so little of my son?” Jessica whispered. “See that princess standing there, so haughty and confident: They say she has pretensions of a literary nature. Let us hope she finds solace in such things; she’ll have little else.” A bitter laugh escaped Jessica. “Think on it, Chani: that princess will have the name, yet she’ll live as less than a concubine — never to know a moment of tenderness from the man to whom she’s bound. While we, Chani, we who carry the name of concubine — history will call us wives.”

Jessica is also technically a concubine, as, despite his love, Duke Leto never married her due to the potential of a more politically expedient partnership. This has haunted Jessica for many years, but she realizes at the conclusion of the book that while she and Chani may not be recognized in their time with the titles they deserve, they have played crucial roles in the events of this age.

I found this to be a thought-provoking reminder that power dynamics are not always clear and sometimes time is the only thing that can bring them to light.

WRITING STYLE /PACING

So far, I have commented on how while I found Dune’s basic plotline to be relatively cookie-cutter, I enjoyed diving into the themes and deeper meaning behind Frank Herbert’s magnum opus. Now we come to my biggest gripe with the book: the writing style.

Dune is much more focused on psychology/consciousness/mysticism than I ever would have expected. While this led to one of my favorite sections in the whole book, a dinner scene in which Paul and Jessica are both using their powers of perception to silently evaluate their companion’s motivations and actions, it also drove many of my least favorite portions of the book.

Oftentimes, it felt like Frank Herbert was trying to take me on a mind-blowing spiritual journey, but I simply wasn’t able to follow him down that path. Instead, I found myself consistently rolling my eyes at his outlandish descriptions of time and consciousness that came off like the rambling reflections of an old hippie who has done too much acid.

These sections took me out of the story and added frustration as I felt unable to decode everything Frank Herbert was trying to say.

“There is in each of us an ancient force that takes and an ancient force that gives. A man finds little difficulty facing that place within himself where the taking force dwells, but it’s almost impossible for him to see into the giving force without changing into something other than man. For a woman, the situation is reversed. … These things are so ancient within us that they’re ground into each separate cell of our bodies. We’re shaped by such forces. You can say to yourself, ‘Yes, I see how such a thing may be.’ But when you look inward and confront the raw force of your own life unshielded, you see your peril. You see that this could overwhelm you. The greatest peril to the Giver is the force that takes. The greatest peril to the Taker is the force that gives. It’s as easy to be overwhelmed by giving as by taking.”

Whatever you say, Frank!

In addition, I found the pacing of Dune to be uneven. After loving the first 150 pages or so, it took me a while to slog through the slower middle sections to get to the thrilling conclusion.

Even then, many of the book’s most action-packed and pivotal scenes go by in a flash, with Herbert preferring to dwell on the quieter more personal moments of this conflict. While I can appreciate the value of this approach, I still felt let down after so much build-up.

I also didn’t love the decision to end the book on a dime as the central conflict comes to a close, but I can see how it allows for contemplation on what will happen next.

CONCLUSION

Ultimately, Dune is an incredible work that is well-deserving of the reputation it has cultivated. I am glad to have read such a seminal text in shaping the genre of science fiction and I am excited to watch the new movie adaptation.

The book dives deep into interesting themes that have left me thinking days after reading the last page. While some of Dune’s more psychological aspects certainly didn’t connect with me, I have never read a book that explored the internal minds and motivations of characters in such a literal and detailed way. It was a fascinating ride, to say the least.

Still, this is not a book I see myself rereading religiously or declaring a masterpiece. In many ways, it feels like I appreciated Dune more than I truly loved it, and for that, a 7.5 seems just.

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