I don't usually issue a 'spoiler alert', as I make an effort when writing a review not to disclose too much plot information, but just enough to intrigue. However this book cannot really be discussed without revealing more than usual. You have been warned.
Apologies for this post having taken so long: firstly lockdown has really taken it out of me and although I am functioning and not just slumped in a heap in a corner with depression motivation is something I have lost. Secondly this post, like the 'Dune' post, has been subject to endless editing as I have been trying to get to grips with what is an extraordinary piece of literary imagination.
'We saw our parents' nakedness; Rivers of blood will be required to cover them. Rivers of blood.'
I've been re-reading 'Dune Messiah' by Frank Herbert, the second novel in his 'Dune' sequence - a slim intermezzo of a book between the behemoths of 'Dune' and 'Children of Dune'. Not that I would want to suggest that 'Dune Messiah' is in anyway 'light' or frivolous. It is certainly neither. This re-reading, I have to admit, has been prompted partly by the growing excitement on social media over Denis Villeneuve's new film adaptation of 'Dune' but also by a loss of direction in my reading. It was there at my bedside and I just picked it up for want of something better. I suspect 'Dune Messiah' gets called a sequel for convenience sake - I certainly did in my post about 'Dune'. However we would be wrong to do so: Herbert originally conceived the first three novels (of what would eventually be six novel cycle) as one. It was his agent who got Herbert spilt them into three worried that they would make too hefty a tome for easy reading. (Herbert speaking at UCLA 17.04.85) Certainly there are parts of 'Dune Messiah' that were written at the same time 'Dune'.
And I must say I'm glad I did, for although at times, as I mentioned in my previous 'Dune' post, the 'Duniverse' is a very strange place at times - the climax of 'Dune Messiah' is one of the weirdest and saddest things I have yet read - this has been an intense, immersive experience. In fact it has had quite a profound effect on me, causing me not only to re-asses my attitude to the Sci-fi but causing me to loose sleep as its strange and hermetic themes swirled about my head. So much so that I changed by bedtime reading to the much duller world of Margaret Drabble and 'The Ice Age', a state-of-the-nation novel of the mid 70s. What I was really looking for was 'Great Fortune', the first of Olivia Manning's fabulous Balkan Trilogy. (I have already the third novel in the sequence: 'Friends and Heroes'.) Anyway 'The Ice Age' has turned out to be oddly successful for a novel that is virtual all 'tell' and no 'show', and I would recommend it.
'He remembered his earliest visions of the jihad-to-be, the terror and revulsion he'd experienced. Now of course he knew visions of greater terror. He had lived with the real violence. He had seen his Fremen charged with mystical strength sweep all before him in the religious war. The jihad gained a new perspective. It was finite, of course, a brief spasm when measured against eternity, but beyond that lay horrors to overshadow anything in the past.'
'Dune Messiah' is, I suspect, not so much read as 'Dune' and this has allowed the latter to be misinterpreted. David Lynch's film of 1984 certainly did (Why on earth did it rain at the end of the film killing off all the sandworms destroying thereby all spice production and consequently ending space travel?) and I fear that the latest cinematic adaptation directed by Denis Villeneuve may well be found guilty of the same. I really cannot emphasise enough that Paul Muad'dib is not a hero. He is not as Timothee Chalamet said in a 'Vanity Fair' interview 'Think Greta Thunberg, only she's a Jedi with a diploma from Hogwarts'. (Unless, of course, he knows something about la Thunbeg that we don't.) It doesn't bode well. And he is certainly not the 'Mightey-Whitey' of Noah Berlatsky's article in escapist.com.* I think it might have helped his case if Mr Berlatsky had actually done some reading in preparation. Otherwise how do you explain such a wilful misreading of the texts? Paul is not the leader of some armed liberation movement, but a mass murderer guilty of genocide on an incomprehensible scale, or else, to exonerate him a little, merely the facilitator of such a gargantuan crime:
'[]....at a conservative estimate, I've killed sixty-one billion people, sterilised ninety planets, completely demoralised four hundred others. I've wiped out the followers of forty religions [] We'll be a hundred generations recovering from Muad'dib's Jihad.'
The Fremen jihad was a war for the political and religious domination of the Known Universe - not a war to set themselves free from oppression, but a revenge on the rest of humanity for thousands of years of perceived subjugation. Just a niggle but it is never explained how the Jihad commences, or how the Fremen achieve such cataclysmic results. Yes, we are told that they are fanatics, but still.... Historically, the success of the Islamic/Arab conquests were in part due to the exhaustion of the two great powers of the day, the Eastern Roman Empire and Sassanid Iran, after an apocalyptic war. There is no evidence of any such civilizational fatigue in the Dune Universe, unless one counts the lack of religious belief among the elites of the Empire. My guess is that after the defeat of Shaddam IV and his Sardukar troops on Arrakis the Empire momentarily collapsed into anarchy and the Jihad grew out of Muad'dib's re-assertion of Imperial authority, but it is only speculation.
'No more terrible disaster could befall your people than for them to fall into the hands of a hero.'
'Dune Messiah' opens twelve years after the events of 'Dune'; Muad'dib's Jihad - that 'blood-dimmed tide' - has, as we have seen, spread to nearly all the inhabited worlds; the small Arrakid city of Arakeen is now the Imperial capital and the centre of all religious life in the Empire - thousands make the Hajj, the pilgrimage, to its temples and shrines; Muad'dib's promise to 'green' the planet advances. Never has there been an Emperor as powerful as Paul Muad'dib. And yet....and yet....Arakeen still feels empty and provincial - though crammed with vulgar, bombastic monuments and surrounded by ugly monotonous suburbia that is prey to constant intrusion by the desert. And the Fremen are disillusioned (as happens so often after a revolution). There is a sense that things have taken a wrong turn. They have had their revenge on humanity, but now their lives are largely empty, devoid of meaning and direction. The Jihad failed to become the moment of re-integration with the world, as the former jihadi Farok, speaking early in the book, believed Muad'dib offered his followers. And not only Muad'dib, but, as explained in 'Dune', the Bene Gesserit have been there before him inadvertently tilling the ground in preparation for all this violence and failure when all they wanted to protect and promote their own. Instead of bringing liberation the jihad only furthered the alienation of the Fremen as it effectively destroyed their past in the process, leaving them suspended between that lost past and a non-existent future. In effect they merely exported Arrakid chaos to the rest of the universe. There is now a desire among the Fremen to return to ways of the desert, and towards the end of the novel we learn that the newly constructed qanats (irrigation canals) and other symbols of the new Arrakis have been sabotaged, the Golden Flower rejected. Ennui envelops and corrupts many. They are ripe for exploitation at the hands of plotters.
And it is with the plotters, a motley crew if ever there was one, that the real weirdness steps in. In particular we are presented with two products of the Bene Teilaxu: the Guild Steersman Edric, and the face dancer Scytale (both genetically engineered mutations). Connected with the plot are two more products of the Tleilaxu; the human distrans Bijaz, (another piece of genetic manipulation) and most importantly the ghola Hayt. The other conspirators are Helen Gaius Mohaim and the Princes Irulan (both Bene Gesserit). In addition there is Korba, who like Farok we have encountered in 'Dune', a fighter from Seitch Tabr and later a Fedaykin leader and now one of the Qizara Tawfid, the priests of the new religion of Muad'dib. A long term intimate of Muad'dib then, but he and his own separate coterie of plotters are not happy either.
And then there is Paul Muad'dib himself that strangely disengaged prophet, complex and contradictory, conflicted and more isolated than ever: his mother, the Lady Jessica, and Gurney Halleck (one of the few survivors of the Atreides household, of any rank, to have escaped the Harkonen purge) have returned to Caladan. The estrangement between Paul and his wife Irulan has deepened, his relationship with his concubine Chani under increasing strain. He rules by personal fiat - he is a benign autocrat surrounded by a small coterie of counsellors. He refuses both a constitution and to rule as a god. And what is more Paul's prescience has become a curse rather than a gift. He has become its prisoner, unable at times to assert his own autonomy and agency. (It is not as though his prescience is 'all seeing', indeed it is partial, selective; obviously something else is at play here, most likely the unconscious. It is certainly not an objective 'sense'. Similarly I don't view the collective unconscious, as exemplified as the collective memory of the Fremen, as in anyway objective. Perhaps like memory prescience is a creative process. In the case of the Fremen we cannot rule out the influence of the hand of the Missionaria Protectiva either.) Estranged from wider society by his semi-divine powers he draws closer to his younger sister Alia. It is impossible to not feel a deep sympathy when encountering Alia, St Alia-of-the-Knife, Abomination, object of veneration. Merely a teenage girl. Prescient and fully conscious at birth.
With all of that established, and bubbling away nicely, we witness the arrival of an embassy from the Spacing Guild headed by steersman Edric. Among the entourage is a gift, Hayt. The ghola. Paul recognises immediately that Hayt is in fact Duncan Idaho - his friend and weapons trainer. Dead Idaho. The Idaho murdered by the Harkonens 15 yrs previously. Restored to life. Re-animated as it were. Re-heated and served. The Bene Tleilax are good at that sort of thing, manufacturing not only humans to order but other even more morally reprehensible things: war, famine, poverty. Soon we learn that Hayt has been trained as a mentat and in Zensunni philosophy, but importantly, for the plot at least, he has no recollection of his earlier life. The gift is accepted, and a strange relationship develops between Hayt and the Atreides that only serves to further isolate them from the Fremen, who are rightly suspicious of the Tleilaxu and their 'products'. They have a particular aversion to the ghola's eyes which in common with all of his type are metal.
Slowly the plots converge. Muad'dib looses his sight in a terrorist explosion(A small nuclear device known as a 'stoneburner' is detonated within the Imperial capital) and then his prescience. And at the climactic, melodramatic conclusion of the novel, Paul and Duncan end their exile, their occultation. Their identities restored, they become once again fully integrated human beings. And thus restored Paul walks out alone into the desert. Perhaps we are supposed to have in mind here the death of Alexander the Great at a similar age, and the occultation of T E Lawrence at the end of WWI. Unlike Indra, the slayer of Vritra, who I discussed in my 'Dune' post, Paul rejects his cosmological dharma. It is left to others to fulfil that terrible purpose. (This is for others to explore, but I do wonder if in the relationship between Paul and Duncan there is an echo (and a faint one at that) of that between Arjun and Krishna in the Bhagavad Gita. Just a thought. Be that as it it may, Duncan could be seen as Paul's moral anchor.)
'Dune Messiah' has caused me reassess my attitude to Science Fiction and Fantasy writing. I still haven't changed my mind about the literary quality of both genres, but I've come to see that both fulfil important roles within the culture. It works something like this: the Enlightenment with its emphasis on reason degraded the position of myth in Western Culture, echoing both the earlier Protestant Reformation, and its jihad against 'superstition' **, and British Deism. These movements tended toward dis-association, an alienation in humanity. One that industrial, mass society has exacerbated. It helped feed the growing 'Meaning Crisis'. Romanticism 'rediscovered' myth, as a means to heal the breach. Think, for instance of the work of William Blake. It, Romanticism, had perhaps a better understanding of being human than the Enlightenment. However, dis-associative culture remained and continues today in certain sections of elite culture. In the twentieth century Carl Jung attempted to end the crisis in meaning by attempting to re-incorporate myth into what was essentially a new metaphysics. Later other thinkers have attempted the same: Joseph Campbell being a notable example whose cultural influence has been immense. It was Campbell, I believe, who pointed out that myth is the mirror of the self. In our own time both Jordan Peterson and John Vervaeke are attempting the same. I believe that both Sci-fi and fantasy are popular and 'spontaneous' attempts, largely outside elite culture and the academy, to heal that breach, to fill the vacuum created by Modernity. They are not therefore to be dismissed. Specifically I've come to see the 'Dune' sequence, in all it richness and complexity, to be very cultural important. It speaks to our time. I begin to wonder if the sequence is an extended metaphor for the Pax Americana.
* Berlatsky is not alone in this. See Haifa Mahabir's essay 'Dune and Orientalism' on the 'Munitions of War' website. I'm not entirely sure whether she has read 'Dune' or not. I think not though.
** I've come to take the view that the Reformation in its attack on the sort of customs, such as ashing or the production of religious art, and which are common to other religions, as a form of de-naturing. Sadly attempts to re-nature ourselves, such as Anglo-Catholicism, have largely failed by being largely prescriptive and self-conscious, lacking in spontaneity (being overly concerned with the correct externals).
