Frank Herbert’s sci-fi classic Dune is, perhaps, the most popular novel ever written about a villain.
This sprawling masterpiece cares more about systems and structures than people. It’s “about” the characters only in passing. Dune’s real heart lives in its extended fable about power, resources, and the influence of ideas.
Herbert spins this fable exceptionally well. He reduces a staggeringly complex philosophical viewpoint to a comprehensible and enjoyable story. This is no small task.
An even greater sign of Herbert’s accomplishment is that Dune, despite its fabilistic foundation, paints characters readers care about. Leto, the Baron, Jessica, Chani, and Stilgar leap from the page, each of them drawn so well it’s easy to forget they were meant just to illustrate Herbert’s arguments.
Protagonist Paul Atreides, as a character, is in a class of his own. With Paul, Herbert manages a feat I’ve never seen replicated: a character that is simultaneously compelling, sympathetic, AND a transparent foil for the author’s thematic agenda. If you’re like me, you find yourself rooting for him so thoroughly you’re tempted to overlook his [spoiler in next sentence] turn to galactic mass-murder.
And that brings us to my opening sentence. Herbert’s thematic agenda is terrifyingly nihilistic. Dune claims that tyranny is inevitable not because it is desirable, but because humans are weak. Paul is not the savior of the universe, nor is he a champion of the downtrodden, nor is his arc redemptive. He is an embodiment of Nietzsche’s will to power. He self-defines a morality, then imposes it on the universe. He is Herbert’s example of humanity’s inevitable self-destructive descent to despotism. Paul is, and was meant to be, Dune’s villain.
Give Dune a read if: You love hard sci-fi with a focus on political systems. You like dense, complex storytelling with high verisimilitude. You like Ubermensch protagonists. You can ignore the grim despair that lurks behind Herbert’s words.
Give Dune a pass if: You prefer character- or relationship- driven fiction. You prefer your stories to have a telos, a redemptive arc, or a spark of hope. You don’t get excited reading about the interactions of complex systems