Frank Herbert’s Dune is an epic science fiction that grabs readers early on and takes them on a journey through a distant, dangerous land full of grand characters whose competing political, economic, military, and religious goals bring them together in a clash of egos, prophecies, and the pursuits of revenge and survival. It is a lengthy and complicated story, but Herbert keeps readers hooked by bringing us back to the same themes over and again. One couldn’t specify the primary plot or theme as one of political, economic, or religious conflict because each one is thoroughly developed, and they are too deeply intertwined to be separated.
Simply stated, Dune is about Paul Atreides’s ascension to political, military, and religious leadership on the planet Arrakis. The story begins with Paul’s father, Duke Leto, moving his family and his army to the planet Arrakis to take over the production of spice from the Harkonnen family while the Baron Vladimir Harkonnen and the Padishah Emperor conspire against the Atreides family with the help of the manipulations of the Bene Gesserit, a group of women who cultivate supernatural abilities and work behind the scenes to affect politics and even gene lines. Paul’s mother, Jessica, is a Bene Gesserit who trains him in their ways and abilities. They escape the Harkonnens with the help of Fremen, who are Arrakis locals. The Harkonnen were destroying the Fremen, but the Atreides were courting them for an alliance. Paul and Jessica meet up with Stilgar, a Fremen leader, who takes them in and teaches them the Fremen ways. Meanwhile, there are political maneuverings among the Harkonnens and the Emperor, and Paul becomes a military leader who contemplates taking on the role of a Fremen messiah before moving them against their enemies.
Throughout the story, one aspect that holds it together is the emphasis on the harshness of the planet’s desert environment; the dangers of the desert are connected to politics, betrayal, Paul’s ascension, and even economics. Duke Leto recognizes the significance of the desert in his leadership strategy: “‘On Caladan, we ruled with sea and air power,’ the Duke said. ‘Here, we must scrabble for desert power’” (170). That desert power becomes a crucial point to Paul’s ascension; before that can begin, he expresses to his mother the urgency of their situation while they wait in a tent for their friend Idaho: “‘We can wait through the day for Idaho, but not through another night. In the desert, you must travel by night and rest in the shade through the day’” (310). The Imperial Planetologist Liet-Kynes explains the science behind his predicament: “If he could smell the pre-spice mass, that meant the gases deep under the sand were nearing explosive pressure. He had to get away from here” (437-438). Frank Herbert clearly did his research on the desert to create this mysterious and dangerous world, yet rather than beat it over the reader’s head, he blends it into the different parts of the story so that the reader never forgets the ever-present threat of the desert while connecting it to the various themes.
Herbert’s style is very accessible. He is firmly in the science fiction genre with advanced technology, space travel, and gadgets, but it isn’t written in cryptic jargon that limits readership. Instead, he uses words that convey an other-worldness while keeping their meaning clear. The Fremen Jamis exclaims that Paul lacks their austere leanness and carries a wealth of extra water: “‘He’s full-fleshed and with a surfeit of water. The ones who carried their pack say there’s literjons of water in it. Literjons! And us sipping our catchpockets the instant they show dewsparkle’” (484). And it isn’t difficult to understand what the Reverend Mother means when she says, “You’ll ride upon your own two feet without ‘thopter or groundcar or mount” (48), and yet, the reader still has a sense that locomotion works differently there.
Despite all that is done well, I still found the book frustrating. The most distracting aspect is how Herbert moves the point of view between characters without a clear transition, which gets confusing – it can take a moment to figure out whose perspective is expressed from paragraph to paragraph. Also, the pacing changes about halfway through. The story moves smoothly leading up to the betrayal of the Atreides and maintains a sense that things are accelerating. However, after Paul and Jessica join the Fremen, the pacing slows and the story loses focus. While the political intrigue continues on and off the planet and Paul wrestles with who he is in relation to the prophecies and his fallen family line, the sense of urgency goes away as the tensions seem to be put on hold. What keeps the reader going is the need to know what happens to Paul; this is almost satisfied with the ending that brings the themes together in an all-encompassing scene that seems to force its conclusion while still leaving unresolved questions about what happens next. For instance, I don’t feel that Paul’s conflict with preventing a holy war is ever fully resolved, and this is a part of his internal conflict for most of the story.
In the end, the book is worth reading, but I’m not sure I want to read the sequel unless I have a lot of time to kill.