It’s strange that burnout hit me so early in my life. I pushed my personal life and hobbies aside to make way for long hours and weekend shifts, and after years of this routine, I found myself exhausted and creatively deprived.
A couple of years ago, I took stock of my life and realized I needed to rediscover some of my old passions, one of which was reading. I was an avid reader in my teen years, but my college years changed my habits. Constantly skimming through the Western canon in my undergraduate English courses ruthlessly stamped out the joy I once felt reading a new novel. At that time, I could count the books I had read since graduating on one hand. I decided that would change in 2020.
In December 2019, I began planning the first few months of 2020’s reading list. It involved me staring at my bookshelf for a long time, my eyes darting from one shelf to the next, scanning through a library’s worth of books I had bought and never read. A brave dive into the murky depths of my closet yielded a treasure trove of even more books tucked away in file boxes. Surrounded by a pile of books, I set to work building the list. I tried to keep things varied and interesting, including fantasy epics like J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings and Brandon Sanderson’s Stormlight Archive, young adult novels I’d missed out on like Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events, and non-fiction like Nathaniel Philbrick’s In the Heart of the Sea. All these choices kept my reading schedule fresh throughout the year, but there ended up being one book that would go on to define my reading journey of 2020: Dune by Frank Herbert.
I picked up Dune several years ago but had long given up on trying to read it. There were a few times in the past I cracked open the paperback and tried to make it through the first chapter, but I found myself assaulted with words like “gom jabbar,” “Shai-Hulud,” and “Bene Gesserit.” I unceremoniously returned to my bookshelf, where it remained gathering dust. That was until spring 2020 when I decided I’d finally read the so-called “greatest sci-fi novel of all time.” As Frank Herbert said, “Fear is the mind-killer,” and I was determined to face my fear by tackling his masterpiece.
I blazed through it in two weeks, turned the final page with all the effort of Frodo making the final ascent to Mount Doom, and wept tears of pure elation. It was bad. It was so bad and I was overjoyed to be done with it. It was a by-the-numbers Campbellian hero’s journey with an unhealthy dose of hallucinogens, illogical space magic, and paper-thin characters spouting the most pretentious mumbo-jumbo I had ever read. However, there was a sick and twisted part of me that also loved it. Anyone who’s seen a “so bad it’s good movie” like Plan 9 from Outer Space or The Room may understand how I felt, I just never expected to feel that way about a novel, let alone a genre classic like Dune. I put the book back on my shelf and felt content that I wouldn’t have to think about it again until Denis Villeneuve’s film adaptation was released.
Except I kept thinking about it. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. In total, I read 25 books last year, but none managed to occupy my mind like Dune. Every day, I’d find myself fixating on a different point of its seemingly incomprehensible plot, obsessing over a minute detail of its expansive and strange world building, or attempting to understand the many dream sequences and visions that motivated its characters. I slogged my way through David Lynch’s much-maligned film adaptation. I watched the acclaimed documentary Jodorowsky’s Dune, the story behind Alejandro Jodorowsky’s failed attempt to get Dune made in the 70s and how its concept art influenced everything from Blade Runner to Star Wars to Alien. I poured over lore videos on YouTube and dug myself deep into the 30,000 years’ worth of world building and history Herbert crafted. I discussed the novel at length with friends who were also experiencing it for the first time. Like all who ingest the novel’s infamous drug, spice, I was addicted, and it was uncontrollably changing something in my mind.
By this point, I was still quite dismissive of the Dune fanbase. To me, it was a novel with some interesting ideas suffering from a botched execution. The fans were simply looking at a heavily flawed, albeit influential novel through rose-colored glasses, ignoring other landmark novels that had come along in its wake. It wasn’t until I stumbled onto the SyFy channel original miniseries adaptation that Dune clicked for me. Truth be told, it’s not a great miniseries. Its acting performances could charitably be described as “wooden,” its sets and effects were laughable even for early 2000s television, and the less said about the bizarre costume designs the better. However, the miniseries was, above all else, a thoroughly faithful adaptation of Herbert’s work. Finally, all the pieces were falling into place for me. I was able to see the political backdrop the story was set against, the philosophical and religious themes came to the forefront, and the truly harrowing ways Herbert deconstructed the hero’s journey were now apparent to me. After finishing the miniseries, I had made up my mind: I would give Dune another shot in 2021, and afterward, maybe even give the sequels a go.
As I’m writing this, I have Herbert’s sixth and final Dune novel sitting on my desk with about 70 pages to go. I’ve just arrived home from seeing Denis Villeneuve’s stunning and masterful adaptation on opening day. I’m still trying to comprehend what it was like to see the world that’s lived in my imagination be fully realized on the silver screen.
All told, Dune isn’t a perfect book. In fact, I think it’s still heavily flawed and certainly not for everyone. It’s difficult and dense, but also utterly captivating and engrossing. Reading it, thinking about it, and talking about it made the darkness of the past year and a half a little bit brighter.
If you’ve felt at all like me recently, and felt overwhelmed at the darkness of this world, burned out by your daily grind, or found less pleasure in doing the things you love altogether, find some time this week to do me a small favor. Go to your bookshelf or down to the Flagstaff Public Library, and pick out something that catches your eye. Find a comfortable chair, or a nice sunny spot in the park, or curl up in bed with your pet, and read for just thirty minutes. I don’t care if it’s Dune or Dr. Seuss. Slow down. Take a break from living in this world to go live in another for a while.
And for the love of Shai-Hulud, the great sandworm of the deep desert, please go see Dune so it gets a sequel.
