Dune Messiah, by Frank Herbert

Posted by: Redhead on: April 24, 2014

• In: Frank Herbert
• 32 Comments

Dune Messiah, by Frank Herbert (Dune, book 2)

published in 1969

where I got it: have owned forever.

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Why am I starting with the 2nd novel in this series? The first book in the series,  Dune, was one of my gateway books to science fiction, and I’ve read it so many times in the last 20 years, that I practically know it by heart.  I grew up reading this series. But you may not know Dune by heart.  You may not have grown up with it. It’s okay, I forgive you.  But since I’m not a total jerk, here are some reviews of Dune to get you up to speed (The Founding Fields, Fantasy Book Review, Best Fantasy Books, Looping Wor(l)d, Josh’s Fantasy Novel Reviews ), and if those are tl:dr, here’s the wikipedia cliffsnotes.

My goal is to get through the rest of the series during this year. It’s been a good eight (yikes, ten?) years since I attempted Chapterhouse, so I’m due for a reread of the entire series.  And who knows, maybe I’ll even rewatch the movie and miniseries, and we can talk about that too.

 

Will there be spoilers in this series of blog posts? yes. sorry, ‘tis unavoidable.

Will they wreck your enjoyment of these books? Nope. read ‘em, and you’ll see what I mean.

and as usual, these will be my weird, impressionistic, paint thrown at the wall style reviews.

Dune Messiah  opens with the planning of a conspiracy to dethrone Emperor Paul Muad’Dib Atreides. Before Paul ascended the throne, there had always been an unspoken rule of checks and  balances – the Corrino Emperor ruled of course, but often bowed to the needs of the Bene Gesserit Sisterhood, and the Spacing Guild. Compromises were made, powers were kept relatively happy, any embarrassments could be swept under the rug of money and power.  If Paul continues his refusal to compromise, he will have to be removed,  and a more suitable (suitable = controllable) person put on the throne.  The conspirators consist of Paul’s wife Princess Irulan,  Scytale the Tleilaxu face-dancer, the Bene Gesserit Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam, and Edric the Guild Steersman, representing a cross section of the political parties whose future stability relies on being able to influence and control the ruling family.  The plan they come up with involves nothing more suspect than a gift befitting an emperor.

 

Dune Messiah takes place twelve years after Dune, and we really see the metamorphosis Paul and his family have been forced to go through. Paul rules as Emperor of the known universe, yet he is completely powerless to stop jihadists who kill  in his name.  By allowing his Fremen to call him Messiah, he has given up all personhood, becoming a prisoner of his own success.  Nearly overnight the known universe became a theocracy, and everything that’s happened, everything that will happen, Paul has already forseen.  The future isn’t written in stone, Paul has merely seen all the possible paths, with roads that narrow as events get closer.  He’s the most accidental Emperor ever, and he and his sister Alia sometimes joke about the tragicomedy of their whole situation. A renegade genetic success and his abomination of a sister, ruling the galaxy, what could be funnier?  it’s actually a little depressing, when you think about it.

Everyone in this saga is trapped. It is important to remember that.

The dynamic between Paul, his concubine Chani, and his royal wife Irulan defines much of the first half of the book. Irulan was the price of peace, and this Empress-to-be has practically become a hostage of a wife. Does it feel like a twist of the knife every time Irulan sees Chani, a desert woman, being treated like royalty? It may have been an order from the Bene Gesserit, but I’m sure Irulan gets personal satisfaction every time she secretly drugs Chani with contraceptives.  If she can’t have Paul’s child, then no one can.

 

And all this time, Irulan thought that her political power was currency towards some kind of peace and freedom. At what moment did she realize she’d never have either, that her whole life she’s been nothing more than a tool, one to be discarded when no longer needed? Of course she knew she’d be pushed into a political marriage to someone she hardly knew, such is the way a princess becomes an Empress. It would have been natural for her to believe she was a political tool of her father, the Emperor, perhaps even a prize. But educated within the Bene Gesserit Sisterhood, Irulan’s life belongs to their genetic goal of a child between her and the valuable Atreides gene line.  Does Paul realize that every time he refuses her, he cements her failure within the sisterhood?  How terrible to realize that the women who raised and educated and trained you, that this is the very family that is treating you like property, like nothing more than a breeding vessel.  I never felt bad for Irulan until this rereading, and now I find myself pitying her.

What is happening has all happened before, as Paul has seen all of these possibilities in his prescient visions.  The path of his religious rulership leaves very little space for his own individuality. Stuck on a path he can’t adjust, he finds himself drawn to any fuzziness on the edges, anything that might speak of escape, freedom, or even surprise.   He knows exactly what Irulan is doing to Chani, and he doesn’t attempt to stop it, because he’s seen what happens if and when Chani gives birth to his daughter.

 

If only Paul could stay in this moment forever. He’s been able to keep the status quo for nearly twelve years.  He is desperately trying to pull humanity away from stagnation and failure, yet hoping against hope that nothing in his personal life will ever change. He knows he’s a fool.

 

When the Spacing Guild visits the palace, Paul welcomes them with a wry smile on his face.  Better to have this Guild Ambassador where he can be watched. One does not attend court without an appropriate gift, and Edric offers something truly one of a kind. A Ghola, a creature grown from the dead flesh of the original, and given new life (think a clone).  This Ghola answers to the name Hayt, but was grown of the flesh of Duncan Idaho, friend to the Atreides, who died protecting the family during the first attack on Arrakis.

 

Designed and built by the secretive Bene Tleilaxu, Hayt has been trained as a mentat, a human computer. He comes to logical conclusions in the blink of an eye, and is incapable of lying. When Paul asks Hayt what his purpose is, Hayt responds honestly that his purpose is to destroy Paul.  But Paul can’t let this man go, this creature who is a connection to his more innocent past. Hayt is a danger, but he’s also a curiosity, something Paul can’t predict, something that’s fuzzy in his visions. Maybe this is the “out” that Paul needs. Duncan was one of his teachers when he was a boy, Duncan still calls him “young master”.   Death at the hand of an old friend wouldn’t be the worst way to go, right?

The second half the book consists of Paul coming to peace with what he has to do. These are the choices that kill those we love. These are the choices that destroy us.  Why would anyone in their right mind do such a thing? Because sometimes destroying yourself and those you love is the least terrible option.

 

Sounds like I gave everything away, doesn’t it? But I’ve barely scratched the surface.  I’ve told you nothing of Alia, nothing of the politics of the situation, nothing of the would-be-funny if it wasn’t deadly interactions between Paul and Hayt and a few other characters. When it comes to the important scenes and interactions, and wordless discussions, I’ve spoiled nothing.

 

Ahh, wordless discussions, you know what I’m talking about – where communication is done through glances, inflection, body language. It’s not a language of exact words per se, but one of intentions and expectations.  Herbert plays a lot with language and communication in Dune Messiah, playing with layers within language, how to send multiple messages with just one word, and send entirely different messages with your body language.  This isn’t just fun with words, it’s a subtle way of showing the complexity of the situation and the intelligence of those who are involved with it. There is a great scene between Irulan and Giaus Mohiam where their spoken words are rather small talk-ish, but their hand language is vicious.  And it’s not sign language, it looks more like fidgeting. Herbert isn’t always completely successful in describing these secondary languages, but I get what he was going for, and I appreciated it.

 

Both Dune and Dune Messiah read much more like literature than they do genre fiction.  And I don’t say that to diss genre fiction.  Put it this way – you know how your John Grisham / Sue Monk Kid reader needs a gateway book to genre fiction? Sometimes readers like me need a gateway book to literature. The shortest of all the books in the series, Dune Messiah is a relatively quick read.  It ends on a bit of  cliffhanger, which is why many readers will read Messiah and Children of Dune as one long book.

 

Tags: Dune, science fiction, space opera