July 31, 2020 | By Javier Romero (A23)

This summer, we’re getting in touch with Johnnies to talk about the books they​​’ve been reading in their free time. In the inaugural edition of Summer Reads, rising sophomore Javier Romero writes on the expansive, perspective-shifting power of Frank Herbert’s Dune.

Dune. Arrakis. Desert planet. The stage is set for a shift in power in the fragile alliance of noble houses that constitutes, along with the emperor, the power structure of the known universe. Arrakis is this stage, and the fulcrum upon which this shift in power rests is Paul Muad’dib, ducal heir to house Atreides. Paul does not yet know that competing interests have set their eyes on Arrakis to exploit it for the drug—a spice called mélange—that grows in unknown quantities on the desert planet. However, it was already prophesized long before Paul was born that he would uncover the secrets of the spice and use its mind-altering effects to lead the native people of Arrakis out from under their oppressors and change the fabric of the universe forever.

Much like Arrakis, Dune is an intersection of different, sometimes opposing ideas. Cross-cultural conflict, formation of ritual and mystery within a culture, economics, environmentalism, politics, religion, love, duty, piety, and the ultimate goal of science and mathematics; those are all only a fraction of the range of subjects fluidly interwoven throughout Dune. Every character is unmatched in depth, and the relationship each character has with one another is saturated with espionage and half-truths; as I saw the walls closing in around characters I had grown to love and hate, my own understanding of the context which surrounds the book grew broader and broader. This is the true genius of Dune: the work expands the perspective of the reader as they make their way through the book. Frank Herbert allows his book to take a life of its own and become a dynamic entity rather than a static one.

Every conversation, every thought that passes through a character’s mind onto the page is so meticulously crafted to fit each scene that the eccentric backdrop of giant sandworms and occult societies, witches and super human calculators, is forgotten—overshadowed by the level of intrigue and complexity of the conversations between and within characters. I go back to this book again and again and again for scenes like the dinner party that takes place when the Atreides family first arrives on Arrakis.

Imagine ruthless capitalists, who make their profit from the exploitation of the spice-harvesting working class, sitting across the table from the imperial planetologist, who secretly supports the resistance movements of the native people of Arrakis while maintaining the façade of a lackey of the emperor—and who happens to be sending secret signals to the leader of a bandit faction on Arrakis sitting next to him, a bandit faction that is involved in the illegal smuggling of spice. The reader may ask at this point, “well, why is a bandit so friendly with an imperial agent?”

This is the exact question Paul asks himself as he closes in on the fact that everything he had been told about who holds power on Arrakis was only surface level; something much more sinister than anything he or his father, the duke, could imagine is happening under the surface. As tensions build around the dinner table and a man who has made a fortune off of selling water on Arrakis dares to insult Paul in his own home, Paul tactfully humiliates the man in a battle of words with the grace of one steeped in politics—showing that he is not a mere boy to be trifled with, but a grown man.

I could write pages on pages analyzing this one scene—which does not even take up an entire chapter of the book—but that would detract from the immense impact this book as a whole has on me each time I read it. Dune is a masterpiece not only in the context of science fiction, which can at times be alienating for some readers, but of storytelling. I give Dune my highest recommendation to anyone from any walk of life.