There are few books I’ve read that have kept their hands held as tightly to their chest as Heretics Of Dune. Having loved the first four books of the Dune series, I kept an open mind going into this widely panned fifth entry. Unfortunately, I struggled through most of this book, in which Frank Herbert seems to indulge in some of his worst impulses. These include but are not limited to occasional Orientalism, oppressive and sometimes alienating amounts of in-story lore, too many important characters… and being surprisingly horny at unprompted points of the story. Yet, like in much of his other work, Herbert manages a coup-de-grace in the final few pages. One that recontextualized much of what I read to this point and somehow swayed me back into enjoying this weird and complex tome.
But let’s set the stage. If you’re only familiar with the base text, understand that Heretics is set thousands and thousands of years beyond that. The Atreides bloodline has left a weighty mark on the universe, having terraformed and tyrannized Arrakis (now going by the shortened Rakis). In their legacy lies an important human event known as The Scattering. It has pushed the human race all over the universe, prompting it to diversify, evolve, and develop in unprecedented ways.
Despite all this, one thing remains true from the original text: whoever controls the spice controls the galaxy. If you’re unfamiliar with that, just know: the spice is a magical melange that granted humanity the ability to traverse space without the aid of computers. Heretics begins when someone appears on Rakis who appears to be able to converse with and control Shai-Hulud, the iconic, monstrous sandworms. The sandworms, of course, are the only natural producers of the mystical spice, which we all knew, right? Naturally, news of this spreads throughout the many disparate factions of the Dune-iverse, and the potential of controlling such a being who can in turn control Shai-Hulud leads to many long-laid plans springing into action.
The extent to which Herbert pulls all of this together is… shaky, at best. The main players here are the magical-speaking/mind-controlling Bene Gesserit witches, represented by Mother Superior Taraza, Odrade, and Lucilla. Their military is led by the Bashar: Miles Teg (someone who we are told is the spitting image in physicality and personality of the original Leto Atreides). In their command, they have the latest Duncan Idaho ghola (the Dune-iverse equivalent of a clone), who is being used to trap the worm-speaker Sheeana with his masculine charm.
On top of this, we have intrusions from the Bene Tleilaxu, the producers of gholas and face dancers (ostensibly shape-shifters but honestly, don’t worry too much). This faction is led by the wily, rampantly sexist/verging-on-racist stereotype, Tylwyth Waff. These guys seem to have engineered this Duncan ghola with a hitch that will benefit them in the long run. But they’re not the main baddies. No, that honor goes to the Honored Matres: a splinter/evil reflection of the Bene Gesserit from the Scattering, who weaponize sexuality and (we’re told) are the “lawful evil” versions of their mother sect. They have Murbella as a representative later in the book but operate more as a nebulous evil force we are only told about, particularly with the Gesserit constantly calling them “whores”.
Did you get all of that? Frank Herbert sure hoped so, because all these characters play quite crucial parts within the narrative. Herbert has never shied away from throwing you in the deep end with complex lore and language before. However, this hefty cast never has one focal point and each member has varying, unique motivations that are hard to keep up with at the best of times.
“But Ro!” I hear you exclaim. “That sounds just like my favorite fantasy novel series-turned HBO television drama A Song Of Ice And Fire!”. Yes, dear reader, there are strong elements of that beloved series in Heretics. Having multiple protagonists who don’t align towards any particular morality but all have different motivations they’re keeping from each other is an enticing prospect. I wouldn’t be surprised if George R.R. Martin took inspiration from Herbert, though he has discussed not enjoying the Dune sequels as much as the original.
But here’s the thing: I don’t blame him for feeling that way when I consider Heretics on a macro scale. The way Herbert handles this multi-protagonist narrative feels like a very protean form of what would later be perfected by Martin and plenty of other writers. Mixing in so many nebulous motivations amidst the constant buffering of new language and lore makes it rather tricky for the average reader (read: Me) to comfortably sort through each plotline.
There are fun little inversions scattered through the plot that do, however, make it fun to try to invest that extra mile in each character. The most immediate of which is the reveal that Odrade of the Bene Gesserit is actually Miles Teg’s biological daughter. If Herbert is playing up Teg as this reflection of Leto Atreides, then we can assume Odrade is playing a version of Paul, the hero of the original Dune. She fits in even better as a Paul analog when we consider Odrade is perceived as a radical of her kind. Her ascension to Mother Superior can even be seen as similar to Paul’s ascension to Muad’dib status. What is even more fun to consider, however, is her relationship with Sheeana, and how this ties in with the end twist of the novel. (Potential plot spoilers to follow, but I don’t think knowing them lessens the reading experience too much!)
First, let me air my grievances. Sheeana the worm-speaker is a character that I latched onto in the first half of the novel. She’s headstrong and due to her position as the worm-speaker, she’s treated as a prophet and becomes quite bratty in response! We love to see it! However, Herbert drops any direct narrative from her perspective in the latter half of the book. Any form of perspective we got, even any real agency, is stripped from Sheeana as she morphs into a living plot device. It makes sense in context as she quite literally becomes a tool of the Bene Gesserit, but it feels like a wrong turn considering how much fun I was having following her personal arc.
Her relationship with Odrade, however, feels like a parental one, almost like everything Leto II never had with his father Paul. Odrade is in charge of raising and shaping her to the Bene Gesserit’s needs, whilst Paul was largely absent for much of Leto II’s self-molding into the Tyrant.
Let’s then consider Sheeana’s place in the Bene Gesserit plans. She is to bring a Sandworm from Rakis to the Gesserit’s Chapter House in order to have the worm morph their planet into a new Dune/Spice producer. Bear with me please, this is gonna get twisty. Since the Tyrant’s consciousness is scattered throughout every living sandworm, the Gesserit are only saving one of them while they completely annihilate the planet Rakis and its sandworms. Trimming the worm population down to one means that the Tyrant will be almost completely stalled from regaining full consciousness. Thus, allowing humanity to break free from the pre-destined “Golden Path” that Leto II hammered out for them. The Bene Gesserit are giving humanity the freedom of choice and placing destiny in their own hands once more.
Leto II’s father figure was absent, and he became a tyrant who, for better or worse, controlled humanity’s destiny for thousands of years. Sheeana’s mother figure guided her to power, and she became the one to unshackle humanity from this destiny. It’s a complicated path Sheeana leads, but it’s a clever inversion of Herbert’s previous protagonist arcs/bildungsromans. It works well as meta-commentary, too: Herbert is allowing his story to grow and evolve beyond the all-powerful Atreides line to forge new paths within its own universe. Star Wars could never!
So where do I fall on Heretics? Well, as you might have guessed, it's complicated. When you look at the majority of the book, it’s a mess. The pacing is all over the place, the plotlines are both too twisted together yet not integrated enough with each other, and the main narrative drive of the book isn’t clear until the final act. Yet Herbert nails the landing, bringing these disparate threads all together somehow. Having the text act as a tool to unmoor the larger narrative from its dominating themes and grant it an unknown future filled with so much more potential is mind-blowing. The way Herbert subverts character relationships and devices he’s spent whole books establishing is astonishing.
Clearly, this isn’t a book for everyone. If you want a satisfying end to the Dune cycle, you’re better off stopping at God Emperor. Heck, plenty of people leave satisfied at the end of the first book, and who could blame them for that? If you’re a sick freak like me, however, who loves to see authors play out their complete(ish) narrative and see how they grow and change as writers over time, I think there’s a lot to be gained from this book. It will be a struggle for the most part. If that doesn’t sound appealing to you, then I advise you to turn away. But if you’re willing to bear the trenches for a while, for even that tiny glimmer of narrative hope, then, and perhaps only then can I recommend Heretics Of Dune.
