A review by brnineworms
Dune Messiah by Frank Herbert

dark reflective sad medium-paced

3.5

“Disengage . . . disengage . . . disengage . . .”

Dune Messiah is difficult to rate as a story so I’ll start by rating it as a sequel. Is it a worthy successor to the original Dune novel? It had quite a legacy to live up to, but I’d say it more or less pulls it off. It’s not as good as the original – there’s no denying that – but it does its job of continuing the story and revisiting the central characters/worldbuilding premises while carving out an identity of its own.

There’s a twelve year timeskip leading into the events of this novel. On one hand a lot happens during those twelve years that the reader misses out on, but on the other I think this approach was necessary; the chaos and crisis that marked the final scenes of Dune could not be properly resolved yet also extended, so it’s best to let the immediate aftermath occur offscreen and return to Paul once there’s some distance between that moment and the present. The climax remains a climax, and this story starts with as fresh a slate as any sequel can be expected to have.

I said before that Dune is “sci-fi for history buffs” and this holds true. Dune Messiah explores themes of historicisation and dissociation. My interpretation is probably more meta than Herbert intended it to be: Paul and Alia are characters in a story – protagonists, no less – and as such they have very little agency when it comes to the trajectory of their lives. And they’re aware of this. Maybe not aware that they’re characters in a novel, but aware that they’re quasi-divine beings performing their roles in some cosmic saga. Alia, as she grows into a young woman, is just starting to become conscious of this invisible barrier against her autonomy. Paul, meanwhile, has had enough.

Ultimately this is a story about suicidality, especially the kind brought on by ennui. Paul’s suicidal departure at the end of the novel can’t be rationalised, no matter how hard the narrative itself tries to do so. There’s no great downfall at the hands of a traitor, or as the result of his own hubris. There’s an attempt to frame it as a noble sacrifice but that feels like something his peers want to believe rather than something that’s actually true. I know his motives are expanded upon in Children of Dune but I haven’t read that yet so I can only reference this text and its predecessor. Paul walked into the desert because he chose to. He saw no other options, and so he chose to end his life and his role in the narrative. We can try to understand why, or we can simply accept it as a historical fact.

The political intrigue is not that intriguing. The conspiracy against Paul feels shoehorned and is tonally confusing – I love the sarcastic fish man, but... why is there a sarcastic fish man, exactly? This book is more bleak but also more surreal than the first.

For the most part, Dune Messiah is a series of disjointed vignettes, brief snapshots that really pinpoint the essence of each character. I want to talk about the characterisation of women in particular, since sexism has thus far been something of a sticking point in this franchise. I thought Alia was well-realised; Herbert did a good job of painting her as both an ordinary teenage girl and much more than that. She has some really strong character moments (like the fencing scene) but her arc gets cut off.

She doesn’t get to have a fully fleshed-out relationship with Duncan, she gets to become the regent because that’s what the story requires of her.

I can’t tell whether this is bad writing or brilliant, linking back to the divinity-vs-autonomy idea.

And then there’s Irulan. There’s an interesting paradox wherein her childlessness prompts her to conspire against Paul and her conspiring is what makes him refuse to let her have his child – he doesn’t want her to be the mother of the heir because he doesn’t trust her with that power. But Chani’s desire for a child weakens Irulan’s characterisation; instead of playing her cards right in an attempt to gain power and influence, Irulan’s motive is dulled and reframed as her being yet another woman with baby fever. She’s such a wasted character. She should be far more central since vast swathes of the plot revolve around her.

All in all, Dune Messiah is everything a sequel to Dune needed to be. Instead of rehashing old themes it approaches with a new angle, distinct yet in keeping with the general feel of the first novel. The reason I’m giving it a relatively low rating is that it never quite reaches the same heights as Dune. It handles the familiar elements well but the new ones are so-so. I liked it well enough, but it will forever dwell in the shadow of its predecessor.

CONTENT WARNINGS: themes of imperialism and genocide but mostly abstract/at a distance, violence and (eye) injury, sexual exploitation, incest, copious drug use, dissociation, suicidality, death, grief