David Lynch has said that of all the films he has directed during his career, his 1984 adaptation of Frank Herbert’s Dune was the only one he truly didn’t like. By the end, he says, he had lost creative control, and did not get the say on the final cut. The film itself is, well, fine. It’s a competent adaptation. It falls far short of what it could have been. During the 1970s, many tried to get their own vision for a Dune adaptation off the ground-- most famously Alejandro Jodoroswky’s version scored by Pink Floyd. So far, no definitive film adaptation exists, but Denis Villeneuve’s upcoming “industrial” version, as Jodorowsky called it, looks set to be the film version of Dune. My reading in 2020 was dominated by Dune; I was a long-time fan of the original but had never explored the sequels. Reflecting on the enduring popularity of Dune, the true greatness of the original novel became clearer than ever.
Science fiction has always been my favourite genre by a long way. I usually find that when I get to strongly liking something, it’s difficult for me to find anything that comes close to matching up. Science fiction gives permission to dream in a way no other genre does. Things like fantasy and magic realism have “dream-like” qualities, in a more abstract sense. It presents us with an alternate reality in which we can briefly live. Science fiction, in large part, unfolds the possibilities of this reality at your feet. Yet, one of the things which has always endeared me so strongly to Dune is that ‘technology’ takes a backfoot. Herbert is concerned more or less entirely with the evolution of our institutions, of human experience. “Soft” sci fi, as it is known, in which advanced engineering and physics takes a backseat to sociological or anthropological themes. The result is a world fully realised; characters who reflect “real” humanity; and at the same time what little technology is explored is in its simplicity both intuitively understood and concretely fascinating.
Most would, I think, agree that the original Dune novel, published in 1965, remains the crown jewel of the series. It is an epic adventure in the tradition of Arthurian legend, with great worms in place of dragons, the Galactic Padishah Empire in place of Rome, and Paul Atreides in place of Arthur. It harkens back to the oldest form of human storytelling, while at the same time Herbert’s stranger and more unique ideas feel right at home there. The inscrutable Bene Gesserit; the ecstasy-like “spice agony” of Fremen reverend mothers and the prescience of children conceived in it. Herbert brings all of this together in an epic which no doubt altered the face of science fiction, and indeed all fiction, forever.
Herbert went on to write an additional five novels in the series. I think I would struggle to argue that any of the sequels were on par with the greatness of the original. Nonetheless, as far as my personal tastes go, the series only gets more fascinating. Countless lives and thousands of years of history ensue; movements of billions of people factor directly into the plots of the novels. The main character of book four is a giant worm with the face of a nine year-old boy. Book five introduces the concept of the “chairdog”, which I refuse to explain any further. What made the original great is always present; a real, concrete world for the characters to inhabit, as strange and unlike our own as it may be. If you’ve ever thought about trying Dune but were intimidated by its size or apparent denseness, just remember the Litany Against Fear:
Fear is the mind-killer.
It is the little death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over and through me.
Most would, I think, agree that the original Dune novel, published in 1965, remains the crown jewel of the series. It is an epic adventure in the tradition of Arthurian legend, with great worms in place of dragons, the Galactic Padishah Empire in place of Rome, and Paul Atreides in place of Arthur. It harkens back to the oldest form of human storytelling, while at the same time Herbert’s stranger and more unique ideas feel right at home there. The inscrutable Bene Gesserit; the ecstasy-like “spice agony” of Fremen reverend mothers and the prescience of children conceived in it. Herbert brings all of this together in an epic which no doubt altered the face of science fiction, and indeed all fiction, forever.
Herbert went on to write an additional five novels in the series. I think I would struggle to argue that any of the sequels were on par with the greatness of the original. Nonetheless, as far as my personal tastes go, the series only gets more fascinating. Countless lives and thousands of years of history ensue; movements of billions of people factor directly into the plots of the novels. The main character of book four is a giant worm with the face of a nine year-old boy. Book five introduces the concept of the “chairdog”, which I refuse to explain any further. What made the original great is always present; a real, concrete world for the characters to inhabit, as strange and unlike our own as it may be. If you’ve ever thought about trying Dune but were intimidated by its size or apparent denseness, just remember the Litany Against Fear:
Fear is the mind-killer.
It is the little death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over and through me.
review written by Sam Fenn
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