For Rebecca
1. Murbella was well done. Odrade's plan, I believe, was a shock and awe offensive. Defense had failed so spectacularly that a massive show of force was a gamble to show the Honored Matres the attractiveness and effectiveness of Bene Geserit vitality, personal powers, unity, and skill. This was a risk necessary to make them want to be Bene Geserits—or at least have their talents and skills—which may be the only way to beat them: if you can't beat them, make them want to join you. This is where Murbella comes in as a test case. With her hidden conditioning, if she can be seduced and converted to becoming a full Bene Geserit, then perhaps it would be possible to convert all Honored Matres in similar ways. This is a poetic Bene Geserit punishment: the Honored Matres seek to conquer the Bene Geserit, but end up becoming them and, like Murbella, regret their former lives. This is perfect. By the end of the novel Murbella, through her actions, thoughts, and conversations, has shown the path that the Monored Matre converts will take. This gives the reader intimate prescience of what will occur after the novel ends. Simply brilliant. And Herbert held back just enough to deny the reader full realization until the end, but gave enough pieces that, like a mentat's process, they click into place after the novel is over to show the full pattern. This was very enjoyable to me because he does not lay it out too explicitly and trusts his readers to understand it. Yes, this is esoteric revelation done well, meshed with Murbella's exoteric revelations to form a beautiful whole. And even the timing—while Murbella is still susceptible to Honored Matre methods and logic, while she still understands them, she oversees their transfer to Bene Geserit sisterhood thinking and training, going through the same herself simultaneously. At the same time, Odrade's belief in the necessity of Bene Geserit changes gains a fertile field in which to be sown with this massive increase in Bene Geserit recruits unfamiliar with the standard Bene Geserit stereotype. Murbella is much more holistic than a single character is usually allowed to be in a novel—she embodies the plot, illuminates it, and foretells the post-novel plot. This is an incredible storytelling tactic and Herbert pulls it off perfectly. This rivals the storytelling mastery of the pace of information in Dune and the tragedy of Leto II in God Emperor of Dune. But does the rest of the book live up to this one character?
2. The action is great. There's a lot of stress in the novel: each character arc sees them facing great obstacles and successes. Each action solves the esoteric hints throughout, but raises more questions. Odrade gives herself to the last of the sea, then enforces its temporality—at the same time and in the same action embracing her plan and acknowledging that she will not live to see it completed. Duncan and Sheana discuss escape and Teg's awakening—a backup plan should Odrade's plan fail, a safety net, and a less damaging way to awaken ghola memories. The battle at the end is engaging, well told, and finally reveals most of Odrade's plan. These actions are exciting and well rendered, but they're also paced throughout the novel well—breaking up the philosophical introspection and allowing bursting releases for the bottled up stresses of the characters, and also the readers. These action hooks are what the philosophy is hung on and I enjoyed that there were more actions than some of the other novels in the series.
3. My biggest complaint is something that I realize was probably present in Children of Dune and Heretics of Dune as well—too much of the novel's time is spent on things that seem to road sign a sequel. For instance, Scytale is mostly ignored: the plot point of him trying to control Duncan by whistling—foreshadowed heavily—is dropped, as is his null capsule thing. And I cannot shake the feeling that Herbert changed his mind about using the fulfillment of these story threads in this novel. This is a weakness because it breaks from the overarching story—it is an unimportant part of the overarching story. Same with Duncan's weird visions—though tangentially they relate to the theme of the unknown, they're just too unknown to be useful. They are somewhat useful for understanding Duncan's actions at the end, and the strange epilogue, but perhaps they were more persistent throughout than needed for this. Also, the Jews are awkwardly written and seem to do little more than foreshadow the next novel in the series. What does Murbella learn from them that the Bene Geserit had not already deduced? Though they relate to the theme of Bene Geserits increasing their humanity more—through always paying their debts, even when inherited and secret—this seems like another dropped ball, or a lot of time spent for little importance. Cyborgs, Bene Geserit punishment planets, the abilities of Teg, the male Honored Matre, the Futars and their Handlers, and the Ixian delegation delivering the ammunition for the secret weapon at the end—these are just a couple more examples of narrative dropped balls. I end up wishing more time was spent on threads central to the story: Teg and Duncan planning, Murbella's history and post-spice agony experiences, Burzmali's last stand. This last one could have given a poignant picture of Bene Geserit desperation paired with action, rather than paired with Odrade's stress and reflection.
4. I feel like Herbert relies too heavily on the surprise ending—like the final page reveal in a comic book. Dune Messiah certainly had a great ending, but it ended up being such a surprise that I felt a bit cheated to have slogged through the first 3/4 to get to the good part. I don't think it's necessarily a bad tactic, but it is a bit cheat at times. Here it works because there is enough important action en-route to give clues and string the reader along. But I think it is a tactic to be very careful of relying upon too heavily.
5. As far as the writing goes, I think this is good—not quite as good as God Emperor of Dune, but good. The analogy of other memories as mental sausages was ridiculous. But the philosophical one-liners are often great: the piece that cannot move; not learning to ride the waves, just riding them; patterns being formed from questions—this is good writing. Additionally, each major character has a unique voice: this is a strength, as it allows their choice of words to help explain who they are.
6. The theme of Chapterhouse: Dune is accepting change and the unexpected from within: Rebekah, Murbella, Duncan, and Bella are the main examples of this. Where Heretics of Dune was more about the unexpected from without, symbolized by the destruction of Dune itself, this novel is about unexpected reactions and finding oneself in that changed context.
7. I look back on the series and I like Dune and God Emperor of Dune the most. Children of Dune and Chapterhouse: Dune second best. I did not enjoy Heretics of Dune and Dune Messiah as much. I enjoyed the series as a whole, and would recommend that anybody interested read all six novels. They're all at least interesting and readable, though only two of them are truly great. If you can get on board with Herbert's esotericism, philosophizing, and foreshadowing of future novels, it is a great ride. What a universe Herbert created! It's engaging, believable, and fresh. It's based on Saharan, Sinai, and Gobi desert cultures. But it uses these bases to critique the western world in a way that is still applicable today.
Showing posts with label Frank Herbert. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Frank Herbert. Show all posts
12 August, 2015
Chapterhouse: Dune by Frank Herbert
Labels:
1985,
Dune Series,
Frank Herbert,
Science Fiction
11 August, 2015
Heretics of Dune by Frank Herbert
For Rebecca
1. The narrative is not linear: there's a heavy dependence on memories. The action is often paused in order to reflect back on similar or tangential situations to give context to the current actions and explanations for the current characters. But I feel like Herbert does it too much in the first half of the book, which seems to drag along. I get that this leaves the reader searching for continuity and context much like the Bene Geserit, the Tleilaxu, and most of the characters are doing. However, in Dune the reader is similarly confronted with a bunch of unknowns, but the reveal is not this ponderous, slow, or unsatisfying. I think more speed and continuity of action would have helped speed up the first half of the book and keep the reader interested. It ends up feeling like many actions are not as important as the actions remembered by the characters, and this makes me wonder why I am reading these unimportant actions. This is also exactly why I do not like Family Guy—it is too chopped up and scattered, which jars the reader.
2. In a sense, Leto II's path is fulfilled here: humanity scattered and can never be completely wiped out, they understand power and its uses much more than before, and they find strength and being in the unexpected—depending upon the secrecy that requires. The reintegration of the scattered humans is intended to shock the core of the Leto II's empire to creativity and change without falling to the invaders or losing what made those thousands of years of his peace possible. They also inject some fresh blood and ideas back into humanity to potentially jumpstart more peaceful methods of progress. It is also the finish of the pruning process—the Ixians may fall, the Guild probably will, the Bene Geserit have to change, the Fish Speakers are brushed aside, and the Tleilaxu must work with the rest of humanity for once. They all together finally try to shake off the reliance upon Leto II himself. This thread is the philosophical core of the novel and it really does a great job of wrapping up a lot of Leto II's plans.
3. A characteristic tactic of Herbert is to leave off once the action really gets going: the sandworms are ridden through the shield wall and attack, the Honored Matres kill Taraza, the jihad is laid down and just about to go off, et cetera. This is more than the pulp affectation of ending chapters on cliffhangers: once the action is out of the main characters' hands, they fade out of the scene. The planning, political maneuvering, and reflection are typically the focus of the narratives—too much so in Dune Messiah. This seems to argue that violence is often a foregone conclusion. I accept this argument because his premises work: knowing the relative forces and leaders and weapons, one can know the way to beat them; knowing that culture, its leaders, and their history, one knows how to work with or control them. This is the plot itself making the philosophical point of the novel.
4. The political machinations are quite good here: the Bene Geserit are so desperate to survive that they will make a deal with the anti-women segment of humanity, conning them into it through speaking their secret language and a couple of calculated guesses. The Honored Matres want Rakis from which to gain Other Memories and control of all mankind? Well deny it to them fully, and scurry off to give yourself time to spy and plan and reflect. Expect the unexpected in battle, politics, and humans. The ways that these simple principles play out is logical, understandable, and complex enough to provide a good read.
5. Expect the unexpected in humans as well: Duncan and Teg are the standard bearers for this, but I think Odrade and Taraza are close on their heels. This "think outside the box" philosophy is a strong one: it strengthens the characters through introspection and recognizing their predictabilities, but it also allows people to deal with strangers in a more straightforward and profitable way. Life is full of the unexpected—if we're okay with it, expect it, and accept it, we can handle anything. In this way, the plot and characters of the novel support the underlying philosophy that he is trying to make. I think it's a little heavy handed here though, mostly because of the incessant flashbacks.
6. Teg and Waff really shine as characters here—as do Odrade and Taraza. Teg is exciting and familiar: the aging soldier who understands the importance of symbols on mob mentality; the diplomat who can also beat you on the battlefield. Waff shows his franticness more relatably than the Bene Geserit do: through his murders, realizations, anxieties, and religious ecstasies. With the two Bene Geserit women, we see the whole group pushed closer to the edge than ever before, but they accept that and change—embracing the constancy of temporality when finally convinced of the Golden Path, then finding their very survival in it. These characters are well written and understandable because of their reactions and actions. Their reflections help some, but like I said above, I think there are too many flashbacks.
7. While the start was slow and overly reflective, the ending 20% or so really pulled it all together and made it worth it. Sort of like Dune Messiah: it's an okay book with a great ending.
1. The narrative is not linear: there's a heavy dependence on memories. The action is often paused in order to reflect back on similar or tangential situations to give context to the current actions and explanations for the current characters. But I feel like Herbert does it too much in the first half of the book, which seems to drag along. I get that this leaves the reader searching for continuity and context much like the Bene Geserit, the Tleilaxu, and most of the characters are doing. However, in Dune the reader is similarly confronted with a bunch of unknowns, but the reveal is not this ponderous, slow, or unsatisfying. I think more speed and continuity of action would have helped speed up the first half of the book and keep the reader interested. It ends up feeling like many actions are not as important as the actions remembered by the characters, and this makes me wonder why I am reading these unimportant actions. This is also exactly why I do not like Family Guy—it is too chopped up and scattered, which jars the reader.
2. In a sense, Leto II's path is fulfilled here: humanity scattered and can never be completely wiped out, they understand power and its uses much more than before, and they find strength and being in the unexpected—depending upon the secrecy that requires. The reintegration of the scattered humans is intended to shock the core of the Leto II's empire to creativity and change without falling to the invaders or losing what made those thousands of years of his peace possible. They also inject some fresh blood and ideas back into humanity to potentially jumpstart more peaceful methods of progress. It is also the finish of the pruning process—the Ixians may fall, the Guild probably will, the Bene Geserit have to change, the Fish Speakers are brushed aside, and the Tleilaxu must work with the rest of humanity for once. They all together finally try to shake off the reliance upon Leto II himself. This thread is the philosophical core of the novel and it really does a great job of wrapping up a lot of Leto II's plans.
3. A characteristic tactic of Herbert is to leave off once the action really gets going: the sandworms are ridden through the shield wall and attack, the Honored Matres kill Taraza, the jihad is laid down and just about to go off, et cetera. This is more than the pulp affectation of ending chapters on cliffhangers: once the action is out of the main characters' hands, they fade out of the scene. The planning, political maneuvering, and reflection are typically the focus of the narratives—too much so in Dune Messiah. This seems to argue that violence is often a foregone conclusion. I accept this argument because his premises work: knowing the relative forces and leaders and weapons, one can know the way to beat them; knowing that culture, its leaders, and their history, one knows how to work with or control them. This is the plot itself making the philosophical point of the novel.
4. The political machinations are quite good here: the Bene Geserit are so desperate to survive that they will make a deal with the anti-women segment of humanity, conning them into it through speaking their secret language and a couple of calculated guesses. The Honored Matres want Rakis from which to gain Other Memories and control of all mankind? Well deny it to them fully, and scurry off to give yourself time to spy and plan and reflect. Expect the unexpected in battle, politics, and humans. The ways that these simple principles play out is logical, understandable, and complex enough to provide a good read.
5. Expect the unexpected in humans as well: Duncan and Teg are the standard bearers for this, but I think Odrade and Taraza are close on their heels. This "think outside the box" philosophy is a strong one: it strengthens the characters through introspection and recognizing their predictabilities, but it also allows people to deal with strangers in a more straightforward and profitable way. Life is full of the unexpected—if we're okay with it, expect it, and accept it, we can handle anything. In this way, the plot and characters of the novel support the underlying philosophy that he is trying to make. I think it's a little heavy handed here though, mostly because of the incessant flashbacks.
6. Teg and Waff really shine as characters here—as do Odrade and Taraza. Teg is exciting and familiar: the aging soldier who understands the importance of symbols on mob mentality; the diplomat who can also beat you on the battlefield. Waff shows his franticness more relatably than the Bene Geserit do: through his murders, realizations, anxieties, and religious ecstasies. With the two Bene Geserit women, we see the whole group pushed closer to the edge than ever before, but they accept that and change—embracing the constancy of temporality when finally convinced of the Golden Path, then finding their very survival in it. These characters are well written and understandable because of their reactions and actions. Their reflections help some, but like I said above, I think there are too many flashbacks.
7. While the start was slow and overly reflective, the ending 20% or so really pulled it all together and made it worth it. Sort of like Dune Messiah: it's an okay book with a great ending.
Labels:
1984,
Dune Series,
Frank Herbert,
Science Fiction
10 August, 2015
God Emperor of Dune by Frank Herbert
For Rebecca
1. Here he brings to fruition something he's been hinting at throughout: humanity resists change. He draws parallels to the Jesuits, nuns, Egyptians, and Greeks to drive the point home that history is cyclical. His Golden Path is not only trying to change this, but also trying to cull the weak so that humanity can have a better balance of people and ideas, a stronger core to build on for the future. He's changing, teaching, and pruning groups simply to shift the cultural structure to something he foresees as better and stronger for the post-Leto II universe—this is what separates him from the Bene Geserit: they forgot to account for their actions and changes and observations, therefore they lost their male Bene Geserit, therefore they erred, therefore they are pale shadow of what they were. This is all made apparent through Leto's constant comparisons between people and groups in the novel, and those in the reader's history. He denies the ability of another Leto II or Muadib to ever arise to this central power again, scattering the threads of humanity in the future. He created the human who cannot be predicted. Etc. This is wonderful integration of plot and point and avoids being heavy handed.
2. Is this series pattern going to continue? Adventure tale followed by introspective, sparsely plotted, explanatory novel? Whether it continues or not, the exposition here is great: it manages to communicate a few thousand years in a way that's engaging, informative, and still mysterious. Yes, both informative and mysterious simultaneously. I'm starting to believe this fine balance between esoteric and exoteric revelation is the central characteristic to the Dune series. I mean, Dune was about ecological intelligence, Dune Messiah was about coming to grips with being a part of the group that has done evil, Children of Dune was about finding individuality within a group, and God Emperor of Dune is about remembering your own humanity at all times and at all costs—but they all share this esoteric, zensunni philosophy melded to page-turner plots that seem to define the characteristic Dune-ness, Dune-ity. And it's great! It works. And boy oh boy does it work here.
3. By originally limiting the novel to a single character—this was written as a first person narrative—and only those people who matter most to that person, the book is able to explain that character much more than the other three books in the series were able to. At the end of Dune Paul is still a bit of a mystery. In Dune Messiah, the conspirators are not intertwined enough with Paul's story to really engage and explain the theme of Paul's struggle. Children of Dune leaves Leto II a mystery unsolved the end. This novel solves that mystery. The series seems to follow another pattern here: each successive book answers the unanswered questions of the last one, but in doing so, raises other questions.
4. This is more of a drawing room drama than the others. It centers on conversations instead of actions, and these conversations center on Leto II and his plans. By the end, the Golden Path is apparent, Leto II as a character is understandable and tragic, and the universe's history between Children of Dune and a point somewhere in the future is well understood—much more fully than between Dune and Dune Messiah. And Leto II's such a great character: fascinatingly selfless and motivated, suffering and amused, open and hidden. He is a series of contradictions perfectly balanced together, and the book serves to explain him well. Leto II is Solomonic, and it works.
5. Yet the plot points are important, exciting, and action packed. Idaho's unprecedented climb, Nayla's assassination, Siona's run through the woods, Leto II's panic, and Moneo's murder are the bones of the great plot. I mean come on, Leto II orders his own death! How crazy and interesting is that? What type of character does that? But in the context of the novel, it doesn't come off as empty sensationalism. Rather, it fulfills all of the main characters and leaves the book well wrapped up. Not fully wrapped up, like all the books the readers to left with questions—the Ixians and Tleilaxu, Siona and Duncan, the scattering and famine times, Duncan's ghola memories, Siona's hidden nature, and did Leto II's plan work? I end up wanting to know what happens next. Badly wanting that.
6. The book is utterly filled with symbology. Where the first book was a clear metaphor of oil, ecological health, and the human condition in the 1960s, this one is more broadly a metaphor for history. Yet by the fact of the world being so well built, so understood by the reader at this point, the symbols only symbolic within the Dune universe are apparent to the reader. The museum Fremen are a symbol for humanity in the novel, and their unquestioning acceptance of the boundary of the wall with plenty of water behind it a critique of the state of humanity. The lack of connection to a place or nature is contrasted with the conscious efforts to change the environment to lushness. This sets up a symbol of futility and human dissatisfaction which reinforces the museum Fremen symbology. Leto II's inhumanity and humanity are a touching, tragic symbol of leadership and celebrity.
7.The ideas fascinate me because Leto II is such a repository of contradictions and, like his Golden Path, he strikes a fine line between those contradictions to achieve a balance and purpose that is both endearing and interesting. These contradictions within Leto II reflect the Bene Geserit breeding of Jessica Harkonnen and Leto Atreides I to attain balance in the perfect man. Nature's not an objectively unchanging relationship—like the actions of the Fremen in Dune imply—but a constant temporarily. The Golden Path itself is an embracing of uncertainty and human nature—as the metaphor of the ecological nature, rooted in temporality—in order to bottle up the energies and creativity of humanity to, upon his death, spread them out and give them the tools for self reliance and unpredictability to ensure their future survival and diversity. The cycles of history are echoed and recreated in the fictional history in a fascinating breadth that not only helps the reader understand the preceding works, but reflects an interesting view of their own history as well. In other words, the ideas are applicable directly to the reader.
8. In this novel, he pulls off the introspection. I think that he does this mainly through three tactics:
—Centering the novel so steadfastly on Leto II. This allows the novel a focus that keeps it moving in a depth that remains fascinating. In Dune Messiah he was trying to do too much—there was too much extraneous stuff going on that was unimportant to Paul's central struggle. This subverted the centrality of Paul's struggle and made the novel feel scattered. Here, everything that happens is important to Leto II, and it keeps the novel focused and tight.
—He uses important, onscreen actions and plot points as structural members to hang the introspection off of. This keeps the reader involved and interested. It allows those introspective elements space to breathe. It also allows the novel to keep moving at a good pace. I don't think the actions distract or detract from the introspection, I think they strengthen it.
—Because the characters are just learning this stuff about Leto II and the universe, the reader is able to learn and question and struggle along with them. Therefore, Leto II explains some of his esoteric ideas thoroughly and it's much easier to follow for the reader. When Asimov does this in Foundation, it comes off patronizing and insulting to the reader because the protagonist is insulting the vanquished antagonist. But because Leto II is driven by love and selflessness, he treats his interlocutors kindly. These are also often indicated to be continuations of pre-novel conversations—specifically the ones with Moneo, Malky, and Duncan—so he lays out that his exasperation is due to repetition and boredom, not the idiocy of the foil, or the reader.
9. I'm left here with a sense of the puzzle this novel is. The Ixians sent Malky because he was all bad, and honestly so. Finding that Leto II loved him still, they then sent his opposite and succeeded in their goal. But it was also Leto II's goal. "Wheels within wheels within wheels," is what the Bene Geserit say of him, and this novel reflects that character trait in its structure and revelations. It's a satisfying story, a puzzle to ruminate on and tease apart after reading. But he gives us enough to go on that it ultimately works.
1. Here he brings to fruition something he's been hinting at throughout: humanity resists change. He draws parallels to the Jesuits, nuns, Egyptians, and Greeks to drive the point home that history is cyclical. His Golden Path is not only trying to change this, but also trying to cull the weak so that humanity can have a better balance of people and ideas, a stronger core to build on for the future. He's changing, teaching, and pruning groups simply to shift the cultural structure to something he foresees as better and stronger for the post-Leto II universe—this is what separates him from the Bene Geserit: they forgot to account for their actions and changes and observations, therefore they lost their male Bene Geserit, therefore they erred, therefore they are pale shadow of what they were. This is all made apparent through Leto's constant comparisons between people and groups in the novel, and those in the reader's history. He denies the ability of another Leto II or Muadib to ever arise to this central power again, scattering the threads of humanity in the future. He created the human who cannot be predicted. Etc. This is wonderful integration of plot and point and avoids being heavy handed.
2. Is this series pattern going to continue? Adventure tale followed by introspective, sparsely plotted, explanatory novel? Whether it continues or not, the exposition here is great: it manages to communicate a few thousand years in a way that's engaging, informative, and still mysterious. Yes, both informative and mysterious simultaneously. I'm starting to believe this fine balance between esoteric and exoteric revelation is the central characteristic to the Dune series. I mean, Dune was about ecological intelligence, Dune Messiah was about coming to grips with being a part of the group that has done evil, Children of Dune was about finding individuality within a group, and God Emperor of Dune is about remembering your own humanity at all times and at all costs—but they all share this esoteric, zensunni philosophy melded to page-turner plots that seem to define the characteristic Dune-ness, Dune-ity. And it's great! It works. And boy oh boy does it work here.
3. By originally limiting the novel to a single character—this was written as a first person narrative—and only those people who matter most to that person, the book is able to explain that character much more than the other three books in the series were able to. At the end of Dune Paul is still a bit of a mystery. In Dune Messiah, the conspirators are not intertwined enough with Paul's story to really engage and explain the theme of Paul's struggle. Children of Dune leaves Leto II a mystery unsolved the end. This novel solves that mystery. The series seems to follow another pattern here: each successive book answers the unanswered questions of the last one, but in doing so, raises other questions.
4. This is more of a drawing room drama than the others. It centers on conversations instead of actions, and these conversations center on Leto II and his plans. By the end, the Golden Path is apparent, Leto II as a character is understandable and tragic, and the universe's history between Children of Dune and a point somewhere in the future is well understood—much more fully than between Dune and Dune Messiah. And Leto II's such a great character: fascinatingly selfless and motivated, suffering and amused, open and hidden. He is a series of contradictions perfectly balanced together, and the book serves to explain him well. Leto II is Solomonic, and it works.
5. Yet the plot points are important, exciting, and action packed. Idaho's unprecedented climb, Nayla's assassination, Siona's run through the woods, Leto II's panic, and Moneo's murder are the bones of the great plot. I mean come on, Leto II orders his own death! How crazy and interesting is that? What type of character does that? But in the context of the novel, it doesn't come off as empty sensationalism. Rather, it fulfills all of the main characters and leaves the book well wrapped up. Not fully wrapped up, like all the books the readers to left with questions—the Ixians and Tleilaxu, Siona and Duncan, the scattering and famine times, Duncan's ghola memories, Siona's hidden nature, and did Leto II's plan work? I end up wanting to know what happens next. Badly wanting that.
6. The book is utterly filled with symbology. Where the first book was a clear metaphor of oil, ecological health, and the human condition in the 1960s, this one is more broadly a metaphor for history. Yet by the fact of the world being so well built, so understood by the reader at this point, the symbols only symbolic within the Dune universe are apparent to the reader. The museum Fremen are a symbol for humanity in the novel, and their unquestioning acceptance of the boundary of the wall with plenty of water behind it a critique of the state of humanity. The lack of connection to a place or nature is contrasted with the conscious efforts to change the environment to lushness. This sets up a symbol of futility and human dissatisfaction which reinforces the museum Fremen symbology. Leto II's inhumanity and humanity are a touching, tragic symbol of leadership and celebrity.
7.The ideas fascinate me because Leto II is such a repository of contradictions and, like his Golden Path, he strikes a fine line between those contradictions to achieve a balance and purpose that is both endearing and interesting. These contradictions within Leto II reflect the Bene Geserit breeding of Jessica Harkonnen and Leto Atreides I to attain balance in the perfect man. Nature's not an objectively unchanging relationship—like the actions of the Fremen in Dune imply—but a constant temporarily. The Golden Path itself is an embracing of uncertainty and human nature—as the metaphor of the ecological nature, rooted in temporality—in order to bottle up the energies and creativity of humanity to, upon his death, spread them out and give them the tools for self reliance and unpredictability to ensure their future survival and diversity. The cycles of history are echoed and recreated in the fictional history in a fascinating breadth that not only helps the reader understand the preceding works, but reflects an interesting view of their own history as well. In other words, the ideas are applicable directly to the reader.
8. In this novel, he pulls off the introspection. I think that he does this mainly through three tactics:
—Centering the novel so steadfastly on Leto II. This allows the novel a focus that keeps it moving in a depth that remains fascinating. In Dune Messiah he was trying to do too much—there was too much extraneous stuff going on that was unimportant to Paul's central struggle. This subverted the centrality of Paul's struggle and made the novel feel scattered. Here, everything that happens is important to Leto II, and it keeps the novel focused and tight.
—He uses important, onscreen actions and plot points as structural members to hang the introspection off of. This keeps the reader involved and interested. It allows those introspective elements space to breathe. It also allows the novel to keep moving at a good pace. I don't think the actions distract or detract from the introspection, I think they strengthen it.
—Because the characters are just learning this stuff about Leto II and the universe, the reader is able to learn and question and struggle along with them. Therefore, Leto II explains some of his esoteric ideas thoroughly and it's much easier to follow for the reader. When Asimov does this in Foundation, it comes off patronizing and insulting to the reader because the protagonist is insulting the vanquished antagonist. But because Leto II is driven by love and selflessness, he treats his interlocutors kindly. These are also often indicated to be continuations of pre-novel conversations—specifically the ones with Moneo, Malky, and Duncan—so he lays out that his exasperation is due to repetition and boredom, not the idiocy of the foil, or the reader.
9. I'm left here with a sense of the puzzle this novel is. The Ixians sent Malky because he was all bad, and honestly so. Finding that Leto II loved him still, they then sent his opposite and succeeded in their goal. But it was also Leto II's goal. "Wheels within wheels within wheels," is what the Bene Geserit say of him, and this novel reflects that character trait in its structure and revelations. It's a satisfying story, a puzzle to ruminate on and tease apart after reading. But he gives us enough to go on that it ultimately works.
Labels:
1981,
Dune Series,
Frank Herbert,
Science Fiction
09 August, 2015
Children of Dune by Frank Herbert
For Rebecca
1. Instead of nature (blood) versus nurture (training), this is really about whole (polis) versus part (self). Man is both an individual and a member of mankind: what better analogy of this than the pre-born? The plot supports this theme through infighting, group political appeals to single persons, and the constant comparisons between Leto, Ghanima, Alia, and Paul—also, Paul and Farad'n, Idaho and Gurney, Paul and the Preacher, Gurney and Naima, et cetera.
2. This gets back to the rollicking surface plot of Dune: there are fights, prophecies, sandworm rides, on scene deceptions, almost seductions, et cetera. I find this helps me follow the more interesting parts of the book—when I can place the introspection in a specific time and place. It makes the decisions feel like they will have power and import—and they often do in this book. The adventure is not necessary for this, but it gives the reader a point of reference to which the more esoteric philosophical discussions can be pinned.
3. Alia's not terribly interesting anymore, like she was in Dune Messiah. Well, not until the end, when she comes back. Where her grandfather was just bad, there is a tragedy to Alia that allows her ending to be a sad event for me. Yes, it is Leto's triumph and the end of so many things, but that scared little four year old fighting off the pain to toss herself from her own tower is tragic.
4. I feel like this novel is overlong for what it covered—though I realize that this probably means that I missed something. It comes off like Herbert realized Dune Messiah was overly esoteric, so he consciously made this one more exoteric and longer. But at the same time, I feel the book is perfect for what it is: perfect length, amount of material, action, plot, and world building. This is difficult to reconcile. Yes, it is a bit long winded; but no, that does not detract. There, good enough for now. [My realization of the cause of this confusion took another 3 books, but I realized it after reading Chapterhouse: Dune.]
5. It is effective how the reader is lead in behind the curtain at times—we know what Leto is before the people he meets do. We know who is destroying the qanats and spreading the water, and we know this long before Alia does. This lets the reader indulge in a couple of "don't go in there" moments with the unknowing, but it also allows us to observe and appreciate how some characters act to deceive others, and that helps us know when the characters are deceiving others or being deceived without Herbert telling us directly.
6. Ultimately, this book is an excellent continuation of the series. It caps off a lot of the threads and stories throughout the first two books. Paul grabbed power too quickly in Dune, and it ruined him, the planet Dune, and the universe.Paul is a Davidian character while Leto is Solomonic. Leto comes in to pick up the threads, and solve the excesses caused by Paul's actions: Dune changing too rapidly, the necessary backlash to the jihad, the cult of personality he created going massively awry after he goes away, and the logical extension of prescient humanity and male Bene Geserit-ness—namely, taking the sand trout route, which also fulfills the importance of Dune as a planet.
1. Instead of nature (blood) versus nurture (training), this is really about whole (polis) versus part (self). Man is both an individual and a member of mankind: what better analogy of this than the pre-born? The plot supports this theme through infighting, group political appeals to single persons, and the constant comparisons between Leto, Ghanima, Alia, and Paul—also, Paul and Farad'n, Idaho and Gurney, Paul and the Preacher, Gurney and Naima, et cetera.
2. This gets back to the rollicking surface plot of Dune: there are fights, prophecies, sandworm rides, on scene deceptions, almost seductions, et cetera. I find this helps me follow the more interesting parts of the book—when I can place the introspection in a specific time and place. It makes the decisions feel like they will have power and import—and they often do in this book. The adventure is not necessary for this, but it gives the reader a point of reference to which the more esoteric philosophical discussions can be pinned.
3. Alia's not terribly interesting anymore, like she was in Dune Messiah. Well, not until the end, when she comes back. Where her grandfather was just bad, there is a tragedy to Alia that allows her ending to be a sad event for me. Yes, it is Leto's triumph and the end of so many things, but that scared little four year old fighting off the pain to toss herself from her own tower is tragic.
4. I feel like this novel is overlong for what it covered—though I realize that this probably means that I missed something. It comes off like Herbert realized Dune Messiah was overly esoteric, so he consciously made this one more exoteric and longer. But at the same time, I feel the book is perfect for what it is: perfect length, amount of material, action, plot, and world building. This is difficult to reconcile. Yes, it is a bit long winded; but no, that does not detract. There, good enough for now. [My realization of the cause of this confusion took another 3 books, but I realized it after reading Chapterhouse: Dune.]
5. It is effective how the reader is lead in behind the curtain at times—we know what Leto is before the people he meets do. We know who is destroying the qanats and spreading the water, and we know this long before Alia does. This lets the reader indulge in a couple of "don't go in there" moments with the unknowing, but it also allows us to observe and appreciate how some characters act to deceive others, and that helps us know when the characters are deceiving others or being deceived without Herbert telling us directly.
6. Ultimately, this book is an excellent continuation of the series. It caps off a lot of the threads and stories throughout the first two books. Paul grabbed power too quickly in Dune, and it ruined him, the planet Dune, and the universe.Paul is a Davidian character while Leto is Solomonic. Leto comes in to pick up the threads, and solve the excesses caused by Paul's actions: Dune changing too rapidly, the necessary backlash to the jihad, the cult of personality he created going massively awry after he goes away, and the logical extension of prescient humanity and male Bene Geserit-ness—namely, taking the sand trout route, which also fulfills the importance of Dune as a planet.
Labels:
1976,
Dune Series,
Frank Herbert,
Science Fiction
08 August, 2015
Dune Messiah by Frank Herbert
For Rebecca
1. The basic theme is the dark side of Paul, his internal conflict which is briefly mentioned in book one. It's the known-unknown—he knows the future and is therefore burdened to be bored repeating it. It's the transfer between conquering and ruling. It's the struggle of the unmartyred messiah who stuck around too long and everybody begins questioning him—including himself. In this sense he goes from being Muadib to Paul Atreides, in a reverse of the first book. It's a messiah realizing he made mistakes, and desperately trying to find a way out of his trajectory that is not cowardly or damaging to others. And he finally concludes that uncertainty is the missing key, so he strides off into the desert sunset, blind.
2. This is fine: Herbert almost pulls off the rumination—at least he gives it an attempt that allows it to sometimes work. But it's confused and confusing. All the zensunni terminology gets obtuse and esoteric to the detriment of communication with the reader. It hides the plot, and that is a negative for me because I enjoy the thoughts raised by the plot. The esoteric import of Paul's introspection encounters interesting questions and characteristics, but is too obtuse to communicate well. I think Solzhenitsyn did a similar thing a lot better.
3. The conspiracy is dismantled by Paul, but it's not some exciting knife fight or Sardaukar showdown, but a slow unraveling through the conspirators own mistakes and Paul's prescience. As a whole, the novel lacks the level of violence the first was reliant upon, and I think that's enjoyable. But so many of the important character actions happen off screen that I felt left out of the action as the reader. This may be an attempt to keep some surprise in store for the reader at the end, and it keeps the theme of the novel—struggle with the aftermath of decisions and actions rather than the decisions or actions themselves—in the foreground. But it lacks the rollicking adventure of the first novel because it leaves the reader feeling left out of what's happening in the plot. It feels like a sequel, not another work in the series.
4. I don't want to seem like I dislike the novel, because I do like it. It is not as good as Dune, but not many novels are. The characters in this novel are great, and he finally begins to give each a distinct voice. Idaho, Alia, Stilgar, Chani, Paul—these are great characters well written. I also found the ending to be satisfying—not just because people finally do stuff on screen, but because it fit appropriately into the characters' stories.
[5. After reading the other 4 books, I did feel like this one was my least favorite because so many important things happen off screen. It leaves the reader feeling left out, much like Paul feels left out of the movement he created, of the jihad he tried to avoid, and of the government he is the face of. This one is just so strange compared to the rest. 3, 5, & 6 are consciously trying to be Dune, while 4 is more like this one than I first suspected. But this one has it's own problems that the other novels don't really have—though they do have problems of their own, they're different problems than this novel.]
1. The basic theme is the dark side of Paul, his internal conflict which is briefly mentioned in book one. It's the known-unknown—he knows the future and is therefore burdened to be bored repeating it. It's the transfer between conquering and ruling. It's the struggle of the unmartyred messiah who stuck around too long and everybody begins questioning him—including himself. In this sense he goes from being Muadib to Paul Atreides, in a reverse of the first book. It's a messiah realizing he made mistakes, and desperately trying to find a way out of his trajectory that is not cowardly or damaging to others. And he finally concludes that uncertainty is the missing key, so he strides off into the desert sunset, blind.
2. This is fine: Herbert almost pulls off the rumination—at least he gives it an attempt that allows it to sometimes work. But it's confused and confusing. All the zensunni terminology gets obtuse and esoteric to the detriment of communication with the reader. It hides the plot, and that is a negative for me because I enjoy the thoughts raised by the plot. The esoteric import of Paul's introspection encounters interesting questions and characteristics, but is too obtuse to communicate well. I think Solzhenitsyn did a similar thing a lot better.
3. The conspiracy is dismantled by Paul, but it's not some exciting knife fight or Sardaukar showdown, but a slow unraveling through the conspirators own mistakes and Paul's prescience. As a whole, the novel lacks the level of violence the first was reliant upon, and I think that's enjoyable. But so many of the important character actions happen off screen that I felt left out of the action as the reader. This may be an attempt to keep some surprise in store for the reader at the end, and it keeps the theme of the novel—struggle with the aftermath of decisions and actions rather than the decisions or actions themselves—in the foreground. But it lacks the rollicking adventure of the first novel because it leaves the reader feeling left out of what's happening in the plot. It feels like a sequel, not another work in the series.
4. I don't want to seem like I dislike the novel, because I do like it. It is not as good as Dune, but not many novels are. The characters in this novel are great, and he finally begins to give each a distinct voice. Idaho, Alia, Stilgar, Chani, Paul—these are great characters well written. I also found the ending to be satisfying—not just because people finally do stuff on screen, but because it fit appropriately into the characters' stories.
[5. After reading the other 4 books, I did feel like this one was my least favorite because so many important things happen off screen. It leaves the reader feeling left out, much like Paul feels left out of the movement he created, of the jihad he tried to avoid, and of the government he is the face of. This one is just so strange compared to the rest. 3, 5, & 6 are consciously trying to be Dune, while 4 is more like this one than I first suspected. But this one has it's own problems that the other novels don't really have—though they do have problems of their own, they're different problems than this novel.]
Labels:
1969,
Dune Series,
Frank Herbert,
Science Fiction
07 August, 2015
Dune by Frank Herbert
For Rebecca and Garrett
1. A common trait of science fiction is to push a contemporary idea or thread of thought to a logical extreme, then examine it through an extreme situation. This can be both a strength—as it is here—and a weakness—as it is in the work of Ayn Rand. It's a strength here because oil is not the sole topic—he examines many other topics: mono-crop agriculture, nature vs. nurture, the influence of blood, public vs. private life, cultural aspirations, tribalism vs. empire, mysticism vs. science, and there's probably a bunch I'm forgetting. Yes, it is all about oil; but it is not 100% oil, and the rest of these themes tie into oil and start to explore a deepness to the subject that is fascinating. Though these other topics may not be explored to the depth that oil is, their breadth and variety pull the book out of pulp fiction and into literature.
2. The question I still struggle with the most is this: is he esoteric to a fault? I think the pace of information is appropriate in the book, as is the scope of it. And, at some level Dune really works, so perhaps that should prove that he does not over do his esoteric revelations. But I wonder at the things brushed over, revealed and forgotten, and think I may have liked Dune better if some of these were illuminated more—Alia and the raid that captured her, Leto II and the raid that killed him, Guild Navigators, the Sardaukur. Explaining these in-depth would have been too much for one book, but a little more might've been nice. I think what I'm trying to say is he is not esoteric to a fault here, but as later books in the series show, this is a difficult line to draw.
3. The two main criticisms consistently level at Dune from a storytelling perspective, involve the Bene Geserit and Leto II.
—The Bene Geserit are powerful female characters, but they're witch-like and their ultimate goal is to meddle in others' affairs long enough to use their sexuality to create a man worthy of entering their ranks and lead them to glory. I cannot argue against this point: the Bene Geserit here are laughable and ridiculous when distilled. However, I do think that there are three female characters that do not fit into this oversimplification: Chani, Alia, and Harah. I further think that the Bene Geserit fit exactly what Frank Herbert was wanting from that part of the story. But I do share a wish for strong, non-Bene Geserit females in the novel.
—As to Leto II dying forgotten off screen, I believe this is used to show Paul's biggest flaw—the single mindedness and preference for thinking about the future that deny him mourning for either Leto. But I don't think that is enough of a justification for what is a startling and disorienting moment for the reader. I still wish that the raid that killed him was illuminated on scene in a chapter.
4. My main criticism would simply be that the dialog is not great. Characters often sound too similar throughout. Of course this complements the premise that actions speak louder than words, but more distinction between character voices could've been a positive addition to the book without subverting this premise.
5. There is a revelatory aspect missed by people reading it for the first time today. Herbert was on the cutting edge of radical ecological research for five years before writing this. But today these ecological ideas are widely accepted: desertification, de-desertification, hippie water collection techniques, green power, and living with the land rather than on it or off it. These are commonplace today, stealing some of Dune's thunder for new readers.
6. I think this is one of the greatest works of science fiction: it straddles the line between a pulp page turner and literary rumination in an accessible, important, and exciting way. It has wide appeal in its political intrigues, conflicts, and coming of age messiah plot. It does not bog down in over detailed world building. It does science fiction well. It also came out in the right place, at the right time: this messianic, anti-government, ecological health novel about oil released in 1965, when the baby boomer hippies were hitting their stride, and that really solidified Dune as an import and influential novel. And lucky for us, it's a well told story that is also well written.
7. So many works today are written for a sequel, leaving too much unsaid in favor of hooks open for a series of novels, or leaving too many lose threads for further investigation in later novels. Here he seems to mostly leave out what is not important to the story being told in this novel. The explanation for these things becomes future sequels, but in a way that doesn't ruin Dune. And I think this is the real enduring secret of Dune: he manages to find that balance in everything—all of the contradictory themes, esoteric and exoteric revelations, plot action and character introspection, contemporary problems and eternal human concerns. He brilliantly balances so many contradictory ideas and characteristics that the novel ends up working well for a wide variety of readers.
1. A common trait of science fiction is to push a contemporary idea or thread of thought to a logical extreme, then examine it through an extreme situation. This can be both a strength—as it is here—and a weakness—as it is in the work of Ayn Rand. It's a strength here because oil is not the sole topic—he examines many other topics: mono-crop agriculture, nature vs. nurture, the influence of blood, public vs. private life, cultural aspirations, tribalism vs. empire, mysticism vs. science, and there's probably a bunch I'm forgetting. Yes, it is all about oil; but it is not 100% oil, and the rest of these themes tie into oil and start to explore a deepness to the subject that is fascinating. Though these other topics may not be explored to the depth that oil is, their breadth and variety pull the book out of pulp fiction and into literature.
2. The question I still struggle with the most is this: is he esoteric to a fault? I think the pace of information is appropriate in the book, as is the scope of it. And, at some level Dune really works, so perhaps that should prove that he does not over do his esoteric revelations. But I wonder at the things brushed over, revealed and forgotten, and think I may have liked Dune better if some of these were illuminated more—Alia and the raid that captured her, Leto II and the raid that killed him, Guild Navigators, the Sardaukur. Explaining these in-depth would have been too much for one book, but a little more might've been nice. I think what I'm trying to say is he is not esoteric to a fault here, but as later books in the series show, this is a difficult line to draw.
3. The two main criticisms consistently level at Dune from a storytelling perspective, involve the Bene Geserit and Leto II.
—The Bene Geserit are powerful female characters, but they're witch-like and their ultimate goal is to meddle in others' affairs long enough to use their sexuality to create a man worthy of entering their ranks and lead them to glory. I cannot argue against this point: the Bene Geserit here are laughable and ridiculous when distilled. However, I do think that there are three female characters that do not fit into this oversimplification: Chani, Alia, and Harah. I further think that the Bene Geserit fit exactly what Frank Herbert was wanting from that part of the story. But I do share a wish for strong, non-Bene Geserit females in the novel.
—As to Leto II dying forgotten off screen, I believe this is used to show Paul's biggest flaw—the single mindedness and preference for thinking about the future that deny him mourning for either Leto. But I don't think that is enough of a justification for what is a startling and disorienting moment for the reader. I still wish that the raid that killed him was illuminated on scene in a chapter.
4. My main criticism would simply be that the dialog is not great. Characters often sound too similar throughout. Of course this complements the premise that actions speak louder than words, but more distinction between character voices could've been a positive addition to the book without subverting this premise.
5. There is a revelatory aspect missed by people reading it for the first time today. Herbert was on the cutting edge of radical ecological research for five years before writing this. But today these ecological ideas are widely accepted: desertification, de-desertification, hippie water collection techniques, green power, and living with the land rather than on it or off it. These are commonplace today, stealing some of Dune's thunder for new readers.
6. I think this is one of the greatest works of science fiction: it straddles the line between a pulp page turner and literary rumination in an accessible, important, and exciting way. It has wide appeal in its political intrigues, conflicts, and coming of age messiah plot. It does not bog down in over detailed world building. It does science fiction well. It also came out in the right place, at the right time: this messianic, anti-government, ecological health novel about oil released in 1965, when the baby boomer hippies were hitting their stride, and that really solidified Dune as an import and influential novel. And lucky for us, it's a well told story that is also well written.
7. So many works today are written for a sequel, leaving too much unsaid in favor of hooks open for a series of novels, or leaving too many lose threads for further investigation in later novels. Here he seems to mostly leave out what is not important to the story being told in this novel. The explanation for these things becomes future sequels, but in a way that doesn't ruin Dune. And I think this is the real enduring secret of Dune: he manages to find that balance in everything—all of the contradictory themes, esoteric and exoteric revelations, plot action and character introspection, contemporary problems and eternal human concerns. He brilliantly balances so many contradictory ideas and characteristics that the novel ends up working well for a wide variety of readers.
Labels:
1965,
Dune Series,
Frank Herbert,
Hugo Award,
Nebula Award,
Science Fiction
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