‘Deep in the human unconscious is a pervasive need for a logical universe that makes sense. But the real universe is always one step beyond logic.’
The‘Deep in the human unconscious is a pervasive need for a logical universe that makes sense. But the real universe is always one step beyond logic.’
The sheer scope and magnitude of this 1965 sci-fi drama is staggering, populated with an extensive cast of characters and a rich universe full of well-rounded lore, intricate politics where every actions is revealed as ‘plans within plans within plans,’ and dynamic cultures all set on a collision course of plot that rightfully earned it a wide readership and canonization as a “Classic” work. I found it lived up to the hype and opened itself up more upon a reread, validating the fond memories I had of it from reading it first as a young teenager smitten with anything sci-fi. This book has zero chill and everything is to extreme and epic levels, including the size of worms. But come for the Bene Gesserits, best part. While there isn’t much to say that likely hasn’t already been said better, I still want to pause and reflect on some key elements in Dune. This is such a well-crafted book that addresses themes of power, religion, historical records as mythmaking and environmental concerns in a narrative about proxy wars and power struggles that speak just as loudly today as it did about 1960s foreign policy. If you are looking for a book of epic proportions, you can’t go wrong with Dune.
The best part about this book, to me, is the way it is constantly expanding. There is great world-building and a rich lore that recalls my glee first exploring The Lord of the Rings, but what really excites me is the way Herbert reveals it all. The book starts so small—a visit to a cottage from an old woman that seems like such a small scale fairy tale on page one—and swiftly becomes gargantuan and never stops growing. It leaves you constantly feeling yourself shrink beside a universe always revealing itself as more complex than you had realized. I enjoy the way Herbert only gives you the minimum of what you need to understand and lets it all slowly unfold when necessary.
‘They've a legend here, a prophecy, that a leader will come to them, child of a Bene Gesserit, to lead them to true freedom. It follows the familiar messiah pattern.’
For newcomers, the basis of the book is that Paul has been quite literally bred to be a messiah and is engulfed in a difficult power struggle over a planet that essentially upholds the interplanetary economy through mining an addictive substance called “spice”. You might quickly find yourself thinking of spice as oil and the planet Arrakis as Middle East and Northern Africa (Tor put out a really great essay on the way Herbert engages with Muslim culture and traditions), you know, since there was a whole Cold War going on at the time and giving the villain Baron Harkonnen a first name like Vladimir might make you wonder if this is all an elaborate metaphor. The Baron saying ‘in politics, the tripod is the most unstable of all structures,’ might make you think of the three branches of US government. You get the idea. There are also WWII holdovers present, such as the Sardaukar as an elite fighting force trained on Salusa Secundus to make sure you catch the S.S. reference. That’s all very much there, but this book is so much more than a simple sci fi rendition of the Cold War and Herbert definitely wants you to apply these themes to our larger political and religious global interactions.
‘Fear is the mind-killer.’
Another aspect I find fascinating in Dune is the depiction of Paul Atreides in the ‘chosen one’ trope. Paul has reservations, though not due to thinking he doesn’t deserve it (dude is royalty anyways, essentially) but because he fears what it will bring. Paul’s powers are enhanced through spice and he is able to perceive the future, and in almost every possible scenario he sees nothing but mass war in his name:
’They were all caught up in the need of their race to renew its scattered inheritance, to cross and mingle and infuse their bloodlines in a great new pooling of genes. And the race knew only one sure way for this—the ancient way, the tried and certain way that rolled over everything in its path: jihad.’
The notion of precognition brings free will into question, particularly when a certain individual appears in visions of the future but dies before it happens. It becomes a universe where individual free wills are all acting upon one another in an attempt to control the narrative of time.
’And what [Paul] saw was a time nexus within this cave, a boiling of possibilities focused here, wherein the most minute action—a wink of an eye, a careless word, a misplaced grain of sand—moved a gigantic lever across the known universe. He saw violence with the outcome subject to so many variables that his slightest movement created vast shiftings in the pattern.’
History is written by the winners, or so the saying goes, and much of this novel focuses on the way the narrative of time is constructed through the mythologizing of people and events. ‘History will call us wives,’ Jessica says to Chani, assuring her that her role as the lover to Paul will not be usurped by the princess he marries for the throne. Much of the book shows the dynamics between Paul as the Man and Paul as the myth, with characters like Stilgar recognizing that by being in service to the myth they too will be immortalized in the stories. Narratives become a form or power, and, as I’ll discuss soon, can be a form of control.
Perhaps it is because power and control are so central to this novel that it feels so very timeless and just as applicable to 2021 as it did to 1965. In regards to power, leadership also becomes another key theme. ‘Power and fear,’ House Atreides Duke Leto says, ‘The tools of statecraft, ’ a sentiment later echoed with all the same key terms by Baron Harkonnen. The two leaders are set up at the start as foils to each other, each trying to have their grip on Arrakis (there are some strong colonialism themes in this book and it delves into how troubling it is and how even those we might view as the savior turn out to be just another oppressor and colonizer) but their leaderships are defined by Leto’s rule through caring for his people while Harkonnen sees everyone as a useful pawn.
’A leader, you see, is one of the things that distinguishes a mob from a people. He maintains the level of individuals. Too few individuals, and a people reverts to a mob.’
Having recently finished The Dispossessed, I could have preferred some more voices in this book looking for better forms of ruling that don’t involve exploitation, but that’s not what this book is about so I’ll move on. What this book really focuses on is the ways power can be maintained, which crops up most in this novel through use of religion. ‘But it's well known that repression makes a religion flourish,’ we read, and the harsh life on Arrakis makes it the perfect setting where indoctrination of religion for the purpose of power can shape a community and unite them. Religion is a form of storytelling, having the people all believe in one shared story with all its myths and promises. ‘You deliberately cultivated this air, this bravura,’ Jessica instructs Paul, ‘you never cease indoctrinating.’ The stronger the shared faith, the more easily a leader can make them do what they need. It also helps that everyone is high as shit all the time. ‘Religion and law among our masses must be one and the same,’ Kynes's father says:
‘An act of disobedience must be a sin and require religious penalties. This will have the dual benefit of bringing both greater obedience and greater bravery. We must depend not so much on the bravery of individuals, you see, as upon the bravery of a whole population.’
Religion is being used constantly to shape the people for the purpose of their leaders, even in what seems an admirable purpose of turning desert Arrakis into a green paradise (and without a religious idea of paradise, how can a people who only know dry dirt and hardship even imagine a paradise?).
‘The real wealth of a planet is in its landscape, how we take part in that basic source of civilization—agriculture.’
This latter bit is also extremely key to Dune. The planet itself is practically a character in the novel, much in the ways the landscape is like a character in Westerns. The landscape of Arrakis truly shapes the people there, and we see a contrast between Arrakis and Caladan and how water as a precious resource on Arrakis changes many customs. Such as how spitting at a person is a sign of respect on Arrakis. Changing the environment on Arrakis is an interesting concept because, in order to make it thrive, what would the cost be? Would it disrupt spice, thereby collapsing the galaxy’s economy? Can these people ever be free, because doing so would require the complete dismantling of the governmental systems currently ruling? Can I try this spice? I would like to try the spice.
There is also something to be said about the harshness of an environment being an ideal place for strenght in unity around a cause to crop up. Le Guin explores this in The Dispossessed as well, with the anarchist planet having a similar dry desert vibe as Arrakis and scarcity being a major player in what keeps the people bonded and working together. The Fremen are tough because of their environment, similiarly the Sardaukar are trained in extremely harsh environments as well. Dune plays a lot with ideas on how fascism and strongmen can quickly rise to power in times of economic instability—or the threat of it—and here the difficult planets tend to produce the most deadly fighters. Mix religion in and you have an instant army if you can convince everyone you are the chosen one.
There is so much more to discuss in this book, particularly the Bene Gesserits and the Guild who are pulling a lot of strings, or just how friggen awesome the worms are. This is a big book with a lot of big ideas, and also a lot of ambiguity to them that I really appreciate. It is certainly a precursor for a lot of popular epics to follow. George Lucas certainly took notes and I imagine George R.R. Martin read this and said “wait, you can just kill beloved characters that easily!?” before rewriting Duke Leto as Ned Stark. While I can concede to those who find it boring and dry, I rather enjoyed all the history and lore and found this to be incredibly fun.
Italy is a country so blessed that for every weed they destroy, two spring up in its place.
Two men are gunned down while on a hunting trip and only anItaly is a country so blessed that for every weed they destroy, two spring up in its place.
Two men are gunned down while on a hunting trip and only an awkward high school teacher is able to see the clues hiding right in front of the police's noses. While this may sound awfully contrived and laughable, Leonard Sciascia truly makes it sing in his outstanding To Each His Own. This is a mystery as engaging as the best of them, yet uses the plotline as a stage for an elaborate social critique and exploration into the abuses of power to sing and dance their deadly dance. Sciascia creates an exquisite metaphysical thriller probing the constructs of the genre, teasing the reader with twists and turns in order to analyze the nature of investigation and crime, but more importantly an investigation into the nature of investigation. With a wide range of characters—all stunningly fleshed out and breathing freely on the page in a way that is all the more impressive given the short length of the book—all casting uneasy glances at one another, the reader is pulled along on a wild ride of clues and coincidences all leading to a violent and shocking finale.
Sciascia has a gift for critique and character analysis, and keeps his audience up all night pondering and laughing. This novel is often surprisingly funny in an offbeat and dark way. 'Some things were delicate, dangerous even, but all he ever wanted was to turn them into a joke.' Who is the killer, and why do the powers that be seem to have blood on their hands? Sciascia's social critique is sharp and deadly, and a novelist that should become a staple of all crime and literary lovers. 4.5/5...more
Hot Shakespeare Summer continues with this tale of a King that should have internalized the phrase “flattery gets you nowhere.” Flattery gets you a piHot Shakespeare Summer continues with this tale of a King that should have internalized the phrase “flattery gets you nowhere.” Flattery gets you a pile of dead bodies and a collapsed kingdom now, Pops, but hey I guess thats why they call these “tragedies.” Brush the bodies aside for a moment because King Lear is an absolutely stunning story and play. Is it one of the greatest stories ever told? MAYBE! Ask Percy Bysshe Shelley, in his A Defence of Poetry he called it ‘the most perfect specimen of the dramatic art existing in the world.’ And this is a guy who loved Shakespeare so much he named his boat after a character from The Tempest and had said character’s song engraved on his tombstone when the boat capsized and killed him. So that sounds like a strong argument if I’ve ever heard one. Okay roll the bodies back in because this is a play of political turmoil wrought by hubris and familial fighting that has relevance long beyond the Bard’s lifetime, and its brilliantly bleak ending that shoves the audience’s faces directly in the muck as warning against such hubris was so harsh that the play was given a happier ending (Nahum Tate’s The History of King Lear was performed instead until reverting to the original ending in the mid 19th century). And so fall the mighty, and the rest of us crushed in their collapse, in this tale where speaking truth to power often lands on in a shallow grave yet far worse the fates of those who fail to see their own folly before all they know and love is eviscerated in it. This is a tale with teeth, one John Keats described in a poem (read it HERE) as a ‘fierce dispute, / Betwixt damnation and impassion'd clay.’ So join me and ‘we'll live / And pray, and sing, and tell old tales’ as we take a look at Shakespeare’s phenomenal King Lear
‘How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is To have a thankless child!’
I first encountered the tale of King Lear in the Akira Kurosawa’s cinematic masterpiece, Ran, a film where they built an entire castle set only to burn it to the ground for effect. Such is the nature of King Lear: a family, a kingdom, a legacy all dramatically burned to the ground for the audience's pleasure. Okay, fine, it’s bleak but I happen to like bleak, okay?! And this play hits with fists of fury, swinging lines that sting even as they lay flat on the page. ‘Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst been wise,’ ouch, damn Shakespeare…hit me again. ‘Get thee glass eyes, / And like a scurvy politician seem / To see the things thou dost not,’ haha, got ‘em! And a good one to log away in your repertoire is ‘I am a man more sinned against than sinning,’ for when something negative comes up in a performance review. Just jokes, but then again ‘Many a true word hath been spoken in jest.’ I’ve been going through Shakespeare’s works in order to read retellings, this one in preparation for Julia Armfield’s Private Rites, and finding that I absolutely love them all. And so far, this one takes the crown. Suck it Lear, it’s Shakespeare’s crown now.
‘Who is it that can tell me who I am?’
Have I mentioned this story has a body count? Because it’s big. And brutal. For newcomers to this work, it is based on the myth Leir of Britain and tells the tale of King Lear as he doles out his kingdom to his children. His eldest two, Goneril and Regan, flatter him with praise to stoke his ego and they get some sweet inheritance from the bargain. Cordelia—a character Sigmund Freud said is symbolic of death, or at least force Lear and us all to ‘make friends with the necessity of dying’—does not flatter him and says she loves him enough as a father but reserves half her love for a husband. She gets nothing. Yet when the sisters don’t house Lear, and Cordelia’s husband launches war on the Britons, and when another family feud between an illegitimate and a disinherited all come together in rage and bloodshed, shit hits the proverbial fan. And all because, as Regan is quick to point out, ‘He hath ever but slenderly known himself.’ It should come as no surprise that the concept of blindness figures prominently into the play both literally and figuratively. Sorry about them eyes, Gloucester.
‘Now, gods, stand up for bastards!’
Part of the lasting legacy of Shakespeare is that his stories are malleable for the changing of the times and still smack with power even 400 years beyond his death. We are blessed with reincarnations of his work that have also become cultural touchstones for the moment, just look at how beloved The Taming of the Shrew is redressed for the 90s in 10 Things I Hate About You, or Hamlet still being a household name as he rules from Pride Rock in The Lion King. While in Lear we read the famous line ‘we that are young shall never see so much, nor live so long,’ we still see many of the same issues reincarnated in political squabbling and struggles through the ages. This play doesn’t feel so distant, this play where a quid pro quo can gone sour can turn into war, where the feuds of the rich and powerful lead to the deaths of the poor and soldiers sent off to die. ‘As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods,’ Shakespeare writes, ‘They kill us for their sport.’ Yet for the rich the working class are but pawns with deaths they hardly register beyond statistics, and only bemoan when it means their lines have broken and death encroaches their territory like Birnam Wood on Dusinane.
Yet too we have King Lear more concerned with The Fool and the entertainment he provides as all descends to rot and ruin around him. How quick we are to look away from atrocities, block out the bad with entertainment, allow a major sporting event to take the spectacle of news and social media overriding the news of mass killings and sorrows. King Lear lives on because it captures the state of being human, being in a society, being under the rule of those for whom feuds can erupt into warfare. It is too late for the characters in Lear but it is not to late for us if we recognize and strive to correct it. Hopefully. A fantastic play, a story that lasts and lasts, King Lear is an absolute masterpiece. Pop 5 stars into the goodreads sky.
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