Embarking on the odyssey that is this book, my only expectation was that I would be confused, having been warned (correctly) by Booktok that Herbert’s worldbuilding is of the variety that throws you in the deep end and expects you to figure it out. With Zendaya and Timothee Chalamet as my motivation, however, I flew through the first hundred pages or so (which, in my opinion, were the most confusing), and was quickly sucked into the world of Arrakis. The first 100-or-so pages of confusion aside, the worldbuilding was incredible—not only did the scientific explanations in this science fiction novel make sense (as a former biochemist, poorly researched or explained science is one of the biggest reasons I rarely read this genre), but I also found myself becoming extremely conscious of my own water use. In the (likely not-too-distant) future, water will be a much rarer and more valuable resource. This made me wonder whether Herbert suspected as much when Dune came out, or if this all came from his imagination.

I’ve heard about a lot of controversy surrounding the content of the novel, and I’m still not sure where I fall in the debate. My initial impression was that this is a classic white savior story (it definitely gave me blue-people-Avatar vibes), and Herbert definitely uses some orientalizing imagery—yikes. On the other hand, Paul doesn’t seem to be the glorified hero that so many stories have; in fact, as the story progresses, he becomes more and more clearly flawed. If this was Herbert’s intention (and I confess, I don’t know enough about Herbert or the historical context of the novel to determine whether or not it was), then the novel could be a critique of the white savior narrative. But then again, if it’s not obvious enough, then this message is lost of many readers and will be used to justify that which it critiques. To me, the much more obvious problems were the rigid gender roles (this man really wrote a novel set far in the future and thought men would still be in charge of everything?). Of course, the Bene Gesserit have power, and I did find that whole concept fascinating (not the eugenics, but the idea that they planted folktales and prophecies in various communities that could be used as protection for their own whenever they might need it). But despite their power, they have all taken a backseat role, and besides their order, we meet only a few other named female characters. I also don’t like the concept of multiple wives/concubines (again, this feels problematically orientalizing).

The added information at the beginning of each chapter (usually from Princess Irulan) was interesting (though sometimes confusing). I have never minded spoilers in the way that some people do, so I kind of liked that  Dune essentially spoils itself with this framing.

I was surprised, however, when we learn (somewhere around halfway through the novel) that Princess Irulan is actually alive concurrently with Paul—I had been imagining her as a scholar farther in the future, recording this history a generation or two later.

As a side note, I found it very funny that Herbert named whole planets and invented multiple new civilizations, but named his main characters Paul and Jessica (rather along the lines of Tolkein coming up with several entire languages, but calling the location of the story’s climax “Mount Doom”).

Happy ending meter (no specific spoilers, just the general vibe of the ending):

I don’t know that this could really be called a happy ending, though it’s honestly better than I was expecting (I wouldn’t have put it past Herbert to kill Paul in the end). It’s not exactly a cliffhanger, but definitely feels unfinished, and I’ve already put the sequel on hold at my library!

I was surprised to like this as much as I did. Yes, there's misogyny, homophobia and so much patriarchy.  Sometimes it was dry as unbuttered toast.  However, the scope of the story won me over. 

There's sand worms and space witches. Multiversal experiencing of time.  I can see why it's highly influential in both sci-fi and fantasy. I'll be continuing through Dune Messiah and Children of Dune because the three books were already mapped out when the first one was released. Fascinating stuff.

There is little I enjoyed about this story. Unfortunately the views of the author are so blatant that I can't just detach it from real life. There is so much discrimination, I honestly I had to stop and reread like is that really what was said? And yes, every time. I would love to see what other people see that end up loving these stories. I do like the sandworms. But I couldn't even find the characters enjoyable. Paul is revolting in every way to me. The use of religion makes my skin crawl. I think he is a villain. I don't think we are supposed to like him. 

I think part of the intention here was to show how harmful humans and power is. That I can agree with. But I still wish that I liked more about this story. 

Dune cannot be separated from its context—the time and place it was written and by whom it was written—nor can it be separated from its monumental influence on the genre. The ecological themes it explores remain fascinating, and perhaps more relevant than ever; it's eco-conscious in a very astute, trailblazing way and reflects not only on significant environmental issues, but also on the systems and people who impact these issues and control resources, and consequently life itself. This aspect is thought-provoking and should be considered its lasting legacy. Yet, it's also an extremely dated novel in a lot of ways. It puts forward a very gender essentialist view of the world, and having two or three interesting female characters doesn’t change the fact that it holds regressive ideals. And although it has an interesting critique of imperialism—that spans the series, so I’ve heard—it’s extremely easy to misinterpret (asking people how they view Paul is a pretty great way of telling how they read the series; the answers vary <i>a lot</i>), and it often veers into orientalism. There’s also the main villain of this first book, who is the only fat character and only homosexual character, both of these being used to denote his depravity and evilness (not one “good” character who sees the Baron fails to mention how “fat” and “gross” he is, and he’s also a pedophile, Herbert making it clear that being a pedophile and a homosexual go hand in hand.) The writing itself is dull, often stilted, and not particularly engaging, although the world-building and political machinations (and Lady Jessica) keep the book going. I read this mainly (only) because my mother is a huge fan and has been trying to get me to read it since I was a kid. I went in with an open mind and an open heart, and although it’s far from my literary interests, I love to hear the way she talks about it and understand her perspective a little better through it.

It's a classic for a reason. Sure, there's a lot I did not enjoy about it, but for every wall I hit there were sections I absolutely flew through. If all you're looking for is epic sci fi with archetypical but still compelling characters, it'll work for you. For me, the most interesting aspect was seeing it's influence in sci Fi and fantasy--the politicking space opera, the making of the chosen one, the codex entries, self aware predetermination, tropes I've read dozens of times (done better and worse) but were really codified here. 

Fair warning: it's still a book written in the 1960s. It as absolutely earns a "fair for it's day" tag but still has pervasive misogyny, homophobia, racism. Nothing blatantly offensive but enough to be uncomfortable at times.