In the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy... Worm?

By: Stewart, July 2022

In the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy… Worm?

A Review of Children of Dune and God Emperor of Dune

(Dune series, books 3 & 4)

I mentioned in my previous article that I first returned to the Dune series out of a desire to read something casual and some-what mindless as I mulled over Leo Tolstoy’s War & Peace. However, the second book in the Dune series, that being Dune: Messiah, surprised me by having a number of very important thematic similarities to my previous read. Much like War & Peace who’s conclusion ultimately, and explicitly, revolved around the concept of God, Frank Herbert revealed a real desire to mull over the idea as well – albeit just with a lot more worm.

It is for that reason that when I went into books 3 and 4 of the Dune series, I was not surprised to see Herbert’s focus shift farther and farther away from the popular qualities people usually attribute to the original novel. Even to this day, with some help from Denis Villeneuve’s incredible film adaption of the first half of Dune, most people will attest to the story’s greatest strengths as its world building, its fascinating characters, its cultures, environments, and its intriguing and complex political warfare that everyone is forced to take part in. It is a dark world filled with morally ambiguous characters. The protagonist, Paul Atreides, is especially difficult to understand since he is far from your typical hero. Rather, he is a reluctant king who, in fighting for his survival, ends up becoming a wildly powerful being that out-shrewds his opponents to victory.

All in all, the first novel is a thoroughly fascinating read for anyone looking for a “mature” science-fiction novel. There is no doubt, given Dune’s success at the time, that there was an air of great anticipation for the following sequel (which was originally Children of Dune, the now 3rd book in the series). Having read the latter two entries in Herbert’s original trilogy, I now see why he felt it was necessary to follow up with a fourth novel that chronologically occurred between the first and the second. As his series continued, it became more and more obvious that he was not as interested in developing the ideas that people usually attribute to the original series. While an attention to the intricate characters and the impacts of environments on peoples typical to the trilogy are still strong themes in Children and God Emperor, they are all in service of discussing a greater concept – God.

If you are like I was, you probably had no knowledge of the extended Dune series, spare that general popular opinion holds that none of the surrounding novels reached the heights of the original. For what it is worth, if you are a normal person who reads books for fun and enjoyed Dune for its rich narrative qualities, this is a natural conclusion since Herbert shifts his focus away from his traditionally narrative-focused strengths, and pivots further into extended philosophical monologues. However, if you are like me, cursed with bad taste and are incapable of putting down a work that (for better or worse) tries to wrestle with the idea of God, there may be something here for you.

Let us begin with Children of Dune. The original sequel to Herbert’s Dune is drastically different to its antecedent. The first readers would have been shocked to see how much of the world has changed in the years that have passed. The infamous Paul Atreides is dead (or is he - ooOOOoooo), as is his wife, Chani. In their place is Paul’s sister, Alia. There are still remnants of opposition to their galaxy-spanning iron hand, though even they are dwindling as the smaller houses fade away and power is further consolidated into a single seat of power. With the settings changed so drastically, and our former protagonist gone, who is left to take the reins? Let me introduce to you the true main character of Herbert’s original trilogy -- Leto Atreides the Second. Leto is the child of Paul, and it is he that we come to understand is the prime focus of this novel. Throughout the story, we see him and his sister, Ghanima, wrestle with their inner nature. What is that nature exactly? Well… this is where things start to get complicated.

And, for better or worse, it is one of the more understandable concepts in these following novels.

See, Leto and Ghanima had some hokey magic spice stuff thrown in their system when they were still infants. What does that mean? Basically, schizophrenia. But a really, really bad schizophrenia. In fact, this stuff is so bad that their sister Alia, who suffers from the same worm-based-schizophrenia, ends up becoming the Baron Harkonnen from the original novel – somewhat. The kids, however, (and yes they are young children) wrestle with this nature of theirs and both find ways to tame this schizophrenia-like condition and thus become something greater.

Now, this mostly sounds like sci-fi nonsense until the concept is fleshed out a little bit. See, this hokey-worm-based schizo condition actually brings awareness to the individual all of the lives that preceded them. This is actually something touched upon lightly in the original novel, as some characters already do this, albeit to much smaller extents because they weren’t infants when they started getting high on worm-excrement. Given that these characters are thousands and thousands of years in the future, they begin to feel the collective pressures, memories, and wills of untold generations compounding and overwhelming their sense of self. To master it, however seemingly impossible a task, would mean that they would effectively become that agglomerate of infinite human experience permanently – making them the most Human human possible.

This is a really important concept for Herbert, as this is a large portion of the foundation of his discussion of God. Provided that Man is made in the image of God, the abstract concept of Man is a derivation of a more perfect idea. Given that each realized man is a derivation of the abstract image of Man, the process of moving from a realized man to abstract Man is to move closer to that final abstract in which both are ultimately derived – God. Consequently, when we see Leto master and dominate the seemingly indomitable force of human nature itself, not only does he become more human, he becomes more godly.

This is a bit of a spoiler, so beware, but the change in Leto best shows when he allows himself to be joined with worm spawn. In his pursuit to master his own humanity, and become the most Human human there is, he also seeks to dominate his environment and the force that best exemplifies it. He contends with the very epitome of nature, its god – the iconic Dune worm. Consequently, Leto becomes master of the internal and the external, setting himself apart from all that is around him, and, if you will, make himself holy.

So severe is his separation that the series makes several notable references to how he loses his ability to “congregate” with women. By the end of the book, Leto has initiated a series of events that will transform him into something more than human, which is something that he argues will effectively be a god.

Conceptually, Herbert is playing with very grand ideas and does so effectively enough. Granted, the Buddhist spirituality that he adopted in his adult life no doubt influenced his writings, however I am simply not learned enough in such matters to comment on where those influences exactly lie. I can however comment on the actual narrative flow of the story.

It’s fine. It’s definitely not bad by any means. There are still political schemes, weird characters that make you think, and morally ambiguous situations that are difficult to wrestle with. However, there is an undeniable messiness to the rising action that makes it so that you are never quite sure when the climax will arrive. Events tend to just happen. Although none of these ever eclipse you in a way that makes you go “What? When was that set up?”, they often arrive with a sense of “Oh, we’re doing that now? Okay, well this had to happen eventually.” Herbert works carefully to make sure that his storylines all connect and weave together, but there are occasions where an important person (Jessica…) will just disappear for a long time and then reappear when Herbert decides he needs them again. Of course, this is how storytelling works to a certain degree. But the pacing of the story is odd, and this is likely because of the uneven focus he devotes to groups of characters. For 100 pages you are bouncing back between 2-3 specific characters, where the next 100 see you with 2-3 other characters. Throughout it all however, you have Leto. His story, or his personality at least, is not the easiest to have investment in given how alien he comes off at times. Paul was a character whose personality was not especially likable, his story was engaging enough to substitute that which was lacking. Leto has an even less likable personality, but not an especially interesting arc. That is unless you understand quickly what Herbert is doing and are able to follow the odd monologues and thoughts that comprise his story.

In other words, the story is kind of boring. It’s fine but definitely not as engaging as the original or even the interlude book, Dune: Messiah.

With Children of Dune then being about a character coming of age (sort of) and setting himself upon the golden path to become God (again, sort of), the conclusion to Herbert’s original trilogy is God Emperor of Dune.

“What’s it about,” I hear you ask. Well, it’s hard to explain.

God Emperor takes place 3,500 years after Children. Dune, the planet, has changed so much that it doesn’t have any dunes left. In fact, it's practically a decent place to live with trees, water, and nice people. The story revolves around its titular God Emperor – Leto Atreides the Second. He frames himself as a benevolent dictator who truly has Man’s best interests at heart. How does he do this? By becoming the greatest predator, of course, and crushing Man into near absolute submission. Though, he only does this because he loves Man, and without this tyranny Man would have ended itself in the interim 3,500 years. It’s a bit of a paradox.

There are a lot of paradoxes in this book. Also, Leto is a worm now. Like, a 7 foot long worm with tiny little t-rex hands and feet dangling off his backside.

If Children began to worry some readers with its long monologues and obscure thinking, then do I have some bad news for you. God Emperor is Children but taken up a notch. The rising action is messier. The characters act more peculiar than ever before. Leto is not relatable at all, and unless you are able to follow his ramblings you are going to hate every scene he is in. And boy oh boy is there a lot of Leto in this book.

However, God Emperor is also where Herbert plays with his ideas most explicitly. This is a boon and a curse because he is letting you see more clearly than ever the themes and nuances between ideas, though that is almost all he does in this book. The novel is overly steeped in metaphors that even I can’t understand (and I usually pride myself in being able to read into obscure and nonsensical abstractions.) The Golden Path is perhaps the biggest example of this confusion. It is a concept that Herbert retroactively introduced in Dune: Messiah, then Children of Dune. It is the conclusion that he clearly always intended for the Atreides upon designing the latter books of the trilogy. However, it is never made especially clear. The best explanation of it is probably in the final chapter of God Emperor, where Leto’s philosophy (which essentially argues that a predator forces their prey to become stronger) comes to its conclusion as his subjects (spoiler) overthrow him (all according to his benevolent will of course).

As an aside, there is an interesting idea here, where Man has to content with God to become stronger and, as a consequence, more human (which as noted earlier makes them more godly). Paul and Leto specifically could see into the future and see that there was only one path to continued existence, the Golden Path. You might as well throw Matthew 7:13-14 here, where it says:

“Enter by the narrow gate; for wide is the gate and broad is the way that leads to destruction, and there are many who go in by it. Because narrow is the gate and difficult is the way which leads to life, and there are few who find it.”

Continuing with the idea of Paul and, more significantly, Leto acting as divine messiah figures in the previous books, Herbert is clearly testifying that there are a lot more paths to death than life. Even more significant than that is the idea that life is ultimately good and worth living in spite of the pain and suffering that it tolls. More importantly, the mere choice of life exacts a toll. It demands that we sacrifice ourselves to a certain extent; a price that Leto takes on himself as he has to live 3,500 years in continuous agony as a worm (a physical and mental trauma.). It’s fascinating that while Herbert didn’t practice a Christian faith as an adult, his messiah concepts (and argument for continued life, to a large extent) are highly similar, if not significantly inspired by Biblical doctrine. Either that, or the concepts espoused in Dune simply evidence Christian philosophy in an ontological sense.

The problem with the Golden Path however is that, in a narrative sense, we don’t wholly understand what is going on. There are insinuations that Leto might have been worried about the expected resurgence of machines and AI, resulting in him having to create a more tenacious mankind. However, the purpose of the golden path is (as with most of the book) steeped in peculiar language. In Leto’s words:

“I give you a new kind of time without parallels… It will always diverge. There will be no concurrent points on its curves. I give you the Golden Path. That is my gift. Never again will you have the kinds of concurrence that you once had.”

It seems to me that, having overthrown the closest thing to God Man had ever encountered, Man had consequently become more like God themselves. As a result, man no longer required the “concurrence” of absolute order that they kept being put under (typified best by that absolute power that Leto wielded). Instead, they were free from tyranny and subjugation. To that end, the Empire is seemingly crippled with no more spice left to be found for several hundred years, killing the resources they need to travel and hold their structured society together. Man became free, in an absolute sense. Leto gave them freedom.

Leto Atreides is simply one of the most perverse Christ images ever put to page. However, Herbert is not writing in such a way as to condemn the concept of God, though his understanding must be recognized as a significantly different take when compared to the Christian’s. Herbert, whether with intention or not, argues that God is in fact a necessity for Man’s continued existence. Not only that however, but God is critical for Man’s better existence. Mind you, Herbert does this in an odd way, to say it nicely.

Here is where the true problem with the Dune series, and God Emperor especially, reveals itself. The dissection of the intricate philosophical arguments eventually devolve into what appear to be philosophical ramblings. While they are almost always interesting at the very least, they ultimately serve to confuse more than to illuminate. This is the majority of the extended and high-minded events in God Emperor.

Forgive me for the graphic imagery to follow, but I simply must share the most egregious example where it is not clear if Herbert is being a weirdo-70’s sci-fi writer or a galaxy-brained metaphorical savant. In chapter 48, he spends nearly an entire chapter discussing a particular character (a favourite of Herbert’s throughout the series) who climbs a really high mountain. It’s very steep, and almost a kilometer high – a true feat of physique. Naturally, people are watching him with great anticipation. He does eventually surmount the wall, and a particular character watches him with special interest and, “when she saw the rope come snaking down…. [she] had her orgasm.”

This is perhaps the biggest frustration with God Emperor of Dune, and the rest of the series as a whole. There are parts that seem either superfluous, too abstract to understand, distracting, or simply not profound enough to warrant the obscenity of the events themselves.

Hypothetically, is there a scenario where a woman is so invested in watching a man climb a rock wall that she spontaneously organisms? Sure…. I guess? Look, if you’re gonna do that, you've got to really earn the obscenity and frankly, chapter 48 just doesn’t do it. Don’t get me wrong, I understand that the climb was not just a climb and all that, but there are events that occur with increasing rapidity throughout the later books that just make you go, “huh…”.

In short, Frank Herbert was a smart man. He was a smart man that spent a lot of time learning and studying and it shows. He was a gifted writer that was clearly fascinated with the concept of God. However, the more and more he leans into the concept, the messier his writing became. While there are still ideas that are interesting and strange turns in his narrative that are sure to stick with the reader, the series begins to struggle under its own conceptual weight. Whether that was because Herbert wanted to include an overabundance of ideas, he hadn’t refined them enough, or because the story simply struggled to include them all naturally I can not say for certain. However, if you are like me and are interested in reading non-Christian thoughts concerning God, you may find something interesting in the four-part Dune trilogy. Although, like the “trilogy” itself, be prepared for oddities that alarm and don’t always seem to assist the true intent of the series – an exploration of the idea of God.