— chopping off what’s incomplete and saying: “Now it’s complete because it’s ended here.” From: Collected Sayings of Muad’Dib by the Princess Irulan
From the people who brought you the 21-inch Holy Family statue, comes…Frank Herbert’s Dune, read by Scott Brick, Orlagh Cassidy, Euan Morton, Simon Vance and cast, with dramatic music and sound effects.
On the trashblog, we drive a lot. Radio shows in the middle of nowhere suck unless you have special satellite radio, which we don’t. Hence our main of entertainment is Margaret’s voice. Margaret’s singing. Margaret making voices. Margaret talking to Phil. Margaret talking to herself. Margaret talking about talking to herself. Margaret talking to the car. But even Margaret can’t fill more than 250 hours in the car.
Bring in: Dune. Dune is mythical. Dune is mystical. Dune is shocking. Dune is cliffhanging. Dune is Dune is science. Dune is fiction. Dune is messianic. Dune is planetary ecology. Dune is feminism. Dune is colonial. Dune has been our Gon Jubar (gone jew-bar). Dune is our Calidan and our Arrakis (eh-rack-us). Dune is twenty-four CDs of pure bliss.
Dune is over.
In case you have missed out on this classic work of modern fiction, Dune begins when the Nissan Al Guyeeb (knee-sawn al gay-eeb) gets his hand fried off in the Gon Jubar. Luckily, that was a trick by a witch, and his hand was fine. The moral being, never trust a Benny Jezeritt. Nevertheless, the Nissan Al Guyeeb (also known as the Moar-deeb (mwad dib), meaning small jumping desert rat) must move to the desert planet Arrakis, the world of the spice. The spice is said to taste like cinnamon, but is as addictive as heroin. Everyone in the universe wants it. It also turns your eyes blue. In the desert of Arrakis the Moar-deeb learns ‘desert power,’ essentially the ability to ride sand worms the size of sewer mains while drinking your own sweat and urine. Eventually he becomes Emperor of the Universe.
Needless to say, this story is gripping. By our last count we missed 27 turns because we were engrossed in the nectar that flows from Frank Herbert’s beautiful mind. Some nights Margaret refused to get out of the car until we had finished the CD. It became so addictive that we would try to hold off as long as possible before saying to each other, in a high pitched voice, ‘I guess we could listen to Dune.’
Dune accompanied us from Portland to Phoenix, a faithful friend at every turn. Alas, driving through the night across the Sonoran Desert Dune gasped its last sweet breath, filling the car with the delicious spice-scent of cinnamon heroin as the Nissan Al Guyeeb became the Emperor of the Universe.
Next up: Nathaniel Hawthorne’s exciting tale: The House of Seven Gables.
What I Learned from Dune – Margaret Never go through a Reverend Mother induction ceremony while pregnant or your spawn will become a freak child who talks like a dirty fifty year old man with a baby’s lisp and will probably try to stab or poison you when you are not looking.
What I Learned from Dune – Phil If life gives you a shit deal, like having your dukedom transferred from a paradise to some backwoods desert planet, use the bad momentum to practice a little judo and flip yourself into being a demi-god/emperor of the universe.
Featured image credit: Dune Sietch by LSGG