Dune is a 1965 Science Fiction novel written by Frank Herbert.

Dune is the Sci-Fi novel. It’s been adapted into several movies and a TV show. It influenced countless other movies and shows and books, including Star Trek, Star Wars, Blade Runner, Ender’s Game, Alien, Warhammer 40K, and even A Song of Ice and Fire (the books Game of Thrones are based on). Alongside Isaac Asimov, and parallel to J. R. R. Tolkien’s work in the Fantasy genre, he created a space in the mainstream public for science fiction to be taken seriously.

I’ve been reading Dune now for two years, and I finally finished it a few nights ago.

I was excited for the movies by Denis Villeneuve. He’s one of my favorite directors working today: Sicario is on my top 10 favorite movies list, and Arrival is one of my favorite Sci-Fi movies. When I heard that an adaption of Dune was his life’s dream, I was excited. I had heard great things about the book and the series after it, and it seemed perfect for Velleneuve from what I knew of it. I wanted to take the chance and read it before the movie came out. You’ll see my review of Dune: Part 1 soon.

Two years I struggled through the book. Two years before I finished.

I enjoyed the sprawling tale of an entire people in Les Miserables (I reviewed Volume 1, Volume 2, and Volumes 3-5 of Victor Hugo’s masterpiece on this blog). I am enthralled every time I pick up The Lord of the Rings. Dominion by Tom Holland catalogues 2,000 years of Christian history in 600 pages? Sign me up (and read my review!) I plowed through all five current books of A Song of Ice and Fire as well as the prequel novel Fire and Blood.

So why did I struggle through Dune? Why wasn’t I gripped by it? Why wasn’t I swept off my feet?

It’s not the book’s fault

First off, I don’t really think it’s Dune‘s fault.

The book is masterfully written. The book reads like poetry; apparently, Frank Herbert would often write sections of epic poetry and then take that section and turn it into prose, keeping the same poetical phrases he used. The descriptions of the sands, the machines, the people… It’s enthralling. The writing style is omniscient, constantly bouncing between every single character’s thoughts. Nothing is hidden from you. It’s a strange way to write; most lock on to one or a handful of viewpoint characters, even in the third person. Think Harry Potter: even though it’s in third person, you’re technically locked into his head, observations, and thoughts besides the opening prologue chapter of each book. But not in Dune: you know everyone’s thoughts, everyone’s plans, everyone’s schemes. It’s hard to juggle dozens of characters, their histories, and their motivations. But Frank Herbert navigates.

The book is painstakingly researched. The depth of research done by Frank Herbert to make his fever dream come to life is astounding. He researched ecology, genetics, psychology, physics, religion, mythology, world politics, language, and cultures. He constructed a world that feels real. It feels like you are in real history. The technology feels like a believably interconnected system that developed naturally over time.

The book is full of ideas. While the technology is a big focus of the story, the main points are more the religion, the politics, the empire. The book centers around two interconnected religious systems, one caused by the other but both different. First, the Bene Genessarit, a witch cult that uses careful somatic manipulation and eugenics to produce superhumans while taking thousands of years to plant superstitions in isolating human-colonized planets. Second, the Fremen, one of those people with superstitions, but who are spiraling under control under the rule of their planet. Meanwhile, there’s funky time mechanics, prophecy, fulfillment… all wrapped up in this little package. It explores the idea of “the Charismatic Leader” or Messiah, and how even over 8,000 years in the future, human nature still corrupts.

Clearly, I enjoy the idea of this book. I love the concept.

So why did I drag through it? Why didn’t I fall in love like I did with A Song of Ice and Fire, or Star Wars, or The Lord of the Rings?

Taste Versus Quality

This is a quality book. Its artistic merit is unquestionable.

It is objectively good.

But what about my subjective tastes?

A book can be quality; its prose beautiful and unique, its worldbuilding and plot coherent, its ideas and concepts developed and explored… and yet you don’t like it.

I have never really liked horror movies. I’ve stomached my way through The Shining because its quality pierced through my hate of horror. I enjoyed the worldbuilding and twists of Alien though most of it wasn’t my love. Sometimes, the quality outlasted my dislike. And I honestly enjoy both of those movies.

But why wasn’t Dune in my likes to begin with? It’s basically fantasy, sometimes called “soft sci-fi.” It’s got grand ideas about history (Les Miserables), politics (A Song of Ice and Fire), and religion (Dominion). It looks like it’d be a perfect fit.

But I think there’s one thing, one reason, that I wasn’t hooked.

Characters.

I think, if you find one thing in common with all of my loves, it’s characters. Lord of the Rings? Extremely strong characters. Famous characters. Les Miserables? Also some top-tier characters in fiction, A Song of Ice and Fire? Award-winning characters.

Dune does have characters. Famous characters, top-tier characters in fiction like Paul Atreides, Duke Leto Atreides, Lady Jessica, Stilgar, Liet-Kynes, Baron Harkonnen, and more.

But none of them stuck with me because you weren’t there for the characters on the journey.

This isn’t necessarily a flaw in the writing of Dune. However, it took me out of the book. For example, when Chani becomes Paul Atreides’s love, it happens in a flash. They both have a vision of them having children together, and Paul accepts it as true while Chani, initially scared, goes all-in pretty much instantly. Both are about 17. Another minor character, Doctor Yueh, has already made the decision that he must betray House Atreides to save his lover; however, he simultaneously makes the plan to betray House Harkonnen by giving Duke Leto a chance to kill the Baron Harkonnen before he himself is killed. All of this is decided before the story begins. While you’re interested to see how Yueh will accomplish both goals, and if it will succeed, he’s already made the journey. He’s already arrived at that point, and you get to see it play out.

Once Paul begins receiving visions of the future and is aware of his identity as a “messiah” both of the Bene Genessarit and the Fremen, he goes all-in. He’s consumed by this alternate identity, almost; cursed to know where he is going, but not necessarily how to get there and what will be lost along the way. In the desert, he does not mourn the loss of his father Leto; instead, his emotions “lock” because of his experience of the future. His personality changes on a dime, and then that personality continues to harden throughout the story until his callous embracing of the additional identity of Emperor, with all of the religious war he knows will come along with it. These are cool concepts. Paul is interesting. I wonder how things will play out, now that he is this hardened Messiah. I am curious. But I’m, personally, not engaged.

It was like a game of chess; you find out all of the pieces of the chessboard and all their abilities, and then watch the game of chess play out. For some, the game is extraordinarily interesting. Halfway through the game, one of the chess pieces (Paul) reaches the other side and goes from being a pawn to a powerful queen. You think to myself, “That’s interesting. I wonder how that will change the game.” For many, watching these chess pieces move around the board with all of their unique motivations and abilities and goals is more than enough to satisfy. And it’s not a bad game, by any means. It’s classic chess, after all. There’s a reason it has stuck around.

But for me, personally? I don’t want a great game. I can watch the game, I can understand the mechanics of it and marvel at the technical skill of the players and the makers of the game. But I’m not enjoying it.

I miss the journey. I miss watching Sam slowly take charge of Frodo, becoming more and more courageous in the face of danger. I miss Jean Valjean starting a desperate criminal, then becoming a liar for good to repay his sins, then becoming a father, then believing he will die alone and ashamed for his lies until redeemed at the last moment. I miss Tyrion Lannister given a chance to rule a city as Hand, only to watch all slip away as he falls into bitter vengeance.

I’ve even overlooked books or shows or movies’ flaws if the characters are good. I enjoyed the heck out of The Magicians, a show parodying Harry Potter, The Chronicles of Narnia, and more while bringing wizards through magical grad school. The worldbuilding makes no sense, and switches basically every single season. However, the characters are layered, enjoyable, and with tons of interact with each other in creative ways. I can overlook the flaws for the sake of characters.

To be clear, the characters in Dune still journey in their plot. They still make decisions, change locations, switch sides. There are twists in the complicated plot as plans succeed or fail, as characters make their last stands, and as characters make mistakes and die. They move from A to B. But they, internally, don’t shift from A to B. They don’t change so much as act. This isn’t bad writing. Far from it. It’s just not a story that I personally enjoy. For me, I miss something.

I miss the rising and the falling, the gradual slopes and the steep inclines. I miss the journeys, both for good and for evil, or for neither. The characters in Dune don’t journey, so much as are placed on a board. That’s ok! In fact, it’s excellent writing. I can appreciate it. But I don’t necessarily enjoy it.