I'll break my rule again and teleport forward to talk in terms of the whole series of books. I think Herbert LATER retrofits this idea of a multi-consciousness to be purely genetic in nature, not mystical at all. For instance, a later character with this awareness can bring up memories going all the way back to the Trojan War and beyond, not mystically, but because his cells contain a record of all those people genetically. Or rather, his cells contain those persons' lives UP TO the moment of conception, when the line for that person is broken as a new line begins.

But in this book, and again at the climax of Dune Messiah, this event is described in murky terms like "simpatico" and characters are communing across empty space with each other, which to me just stresses my suspension of disbelief. For me part of the role of a sci-fi writer, or of any writer expounding upon ideas larger than existing experience, is not so much to SELL the idea to an audience, but at least to sort of shepherd them through it. The better thought out that idea is, the easier it is for the writer to reveal enough of that idea's shape that the reader can intuit the rest–thus suspending disbelief. In many cases I think imagination supplants reason to the point that the reader is left to just presume that a thing "happened," creating a point at which you either believe or do not in a particular thing.

For me, especially in sci-fi, where you are regularly asked to accept ideas that can be somewhat fanciful, the less you have to presume on faith, the easier it is for a story to stand on its own. For instance, I think Dune works best on its thematic levels, especially the first novel. You don't need to accept a bunch of lasers and space battles and aliens with eyes on stalks in order to "get" the themes in the book: self-actualization, ecology/sociology, control, etc. But where the later books really fail for me is in an increasing reliance upon ideas which depend upon earlier ideas which depend upon earlier ideas… eventually the stories become about themselves, and our ability to identify things as being useful or relevant to our own lives is diminished.

Also, about the scientific/mystical nature of the Water of Life and prescience: this is what I meant a while ago about reason and mysticism pushing and challenging each other. Here we're starting to get to the border between the two. Jessica's inner experience initially is a very scientific one, seeing the Water of Life on a molecular level inside of him. And yet, the things that follow, seeing back into the endless corridor of Reverend Mothers, communing with the consciousness of her daughter, these things are incredibly mystical. It reminds me of the Neal Stephenson book The Confusion, the second part of the Baroque Cycle, where the fictional version of the philosopher Leibniz is taking about atoms and monads. (Btw if I actually was familiar with Leibniz' philosophy, I would just cite that, but as it is, I have to take it from a novel). Leibniz (the fictional version) talks about how understanding the movement of the basic particles of the universe allows you to know their future, and so if you were able to follow the movement of every single particle in the universe, you would know everything, and you would be God. Essentially, there is no barrier between scientific knowledge and divine power, only a difference of degrees. I see the same sort of thing with Jessica moving the particles. I don't think that Reverend Mothers are supposed to be able to understand molecular movement on any grand or divine scale, but I do think that their power and their knowledge does come from a similar place. I would just say that the science behind their power is so great, that you could flip a coin and call it science or mysticism, and at this point either one would be correct.

Count Fenring is terrifying in his self-control. I don't know if it's a matter of the reader projecting how he/she/I might react to such experiences (the noted example of allowing his wife to seduce Feyd comes to mind) and realizing the emotions he's keeping in check or just the overall tension of the scenes, but the tension is palpable. His speech pattern also adds to this feeling of anxiety surrounding his scenes with the Baron. I can't really put my finger on it, but reading it the way it's written, with all the pauses and "mmmmmm" added to my emotional response to these scenes, probably because the dialogue is being delayed with all these mumblings. Fenring is a great character.

I just considered it as I read through the posts. My oldest son is only a year younger than Paul. The weight of the world on my boy's shoulders? that thought is almost debilitating. Now, as I continue reading, I'll have that touchstone in my head. I'm curious how that will affect my reading from here on.

some thoughts I had while reading this week:

The weight of decision is heavy on Paul. He's able to see the outcome of his ascendancy ending with blood spread across the universe beneath the green Atreides banner. He is continually wrestling with himself, with what he's seen in his possible futures, with choices he makes – worrying whether a wrong choice or a lack of decision will hasten this outcome, cause the death of his friends (Gurney is alive in some of his futures), or will exacerbate an already uncared for future.

And yet, as Paul is trying to avert the jihad he's seen, his mother is thinking of how to turn the Fremen into a fighting force to get Paul back his Dukedom. Earlier, Paul is angered at his mother for making him what he is (by having him instead of a daughter, by her training of him) and even now, though he seems to be unaware of it, she is trying to form him, and form this fighting force. She is the one pushing Paul toward this jihad.

Both Paul and Jessica are trying to manipulate the legend planted on Arrakis by the Bene Gesserit to help them survive. But they are also manipulated (and, subsequently manipulating) within this context through actions they do unthinkingly or within which they are interrupted and misunderstood. Examples of this would be Paul "giving water to the dead" at Jamis's service – a natural reaction for Paul, a legendary one from the POV of the Fremen OR when Jessica first meets the Shadout Mapes, is asked about the crysknife, beings to answer it is "the maker of death" but is interrupted by Mapes after she only says "the maker," which is an important sign for these Fremen seeking this legend. The legend was fabricated by the Bene Gesserit, and yet it's all coming true anyway.

The actual transfer gets used quite a bit in later books, and it's really the one thing that most closely approaches magic in the series. I personally think it's meant as one of the evolutionary human enhancements they've made over 10,000 years. "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic," after all, only the technology in this case is genetics.

Also, I would point out that, while yeah the Harkonnens are an example of inbreeding, so is Paul–the Baron is his grandfather after all. And who else in his line? We see that these things are controlled in large part by the Bene Gesserit.

Third–I don't at all think that Fenring is "evil," any more so than any other character with their own set of plans, acting upon them. In fact, he's the ONLY character in the book, with the possible exception of Stilgar, who seems close to standing toe-to-toe with Paul in terms of being self-actualizing. Stilgar eventually becomes a satellite of Paul's, as Fenring is a satellite of the Emperor. And of course, by the book's finish we find that Paul and Fenring have more in common. Interesting character in a lot of ways–it's like Herbert put a lot of ideas into him just in case, but never had occasion to use any of them.

Also, Fenring – yeah, he creeps me out. WAY more dangerous than the Harkonnens – he calmly accepts that his wife is going to go seduce Feyd as part of the larger plan. Anyone with that sort of emotional control and lack of personal attachment, bent on doing evil, will most certainly succeed in that evil. Thus, terrifying.

About the scene with Jessica taking the Water of Life: totally not mystical. She clearly describes how she changes the chemical composition of the poison, molecule by molecule. Herbert makes it clear this is a chemical means of accessing knowledge and power. Still no less awesome, because the results are the same, but it's pretty cut-and-dry science fiction, not mysticism.

Finally, Paul. One thing that I really easily forget, for several reasons, is how young Paul is. Between seeing both the film and Sci-Fi mini-series since last reading Dune, and the incredibly adult inner voice Herbert gives Paul, I always seem to think of him as an adult. But in the general interactions with the Fremen (them calling him a child-man, and new characters being shocked by the news that he beats Jamis because of his age) we get reminders of how young he is: 15. FIFTEEN!!! He's still going through puberty! This is where it really hits me – Paul has visions of a romantic life with Chani before he ever even sees the girl, and so that future life collides in his mind with their initial meeting, at which point, since he's only fifteen, part of Paul is thinking "Girl. Girl. Girl." I try to think about everything Paul is coping with, these future visions, the idea that he could be the cause of a massacre of millions of people across the universe, and then add being 15 and dealing with feelings about girls, and my mind just collapses. I feel like Herbert does a good job of bringing back to the forefront just how insane Paul's experiences are by bringing Chani into the story, since teenage attraction is a much more tangible experience for readers than prescience and universal jihad.

… a trait that is much more powerful in Bene Gesserit or Tleilaxu plans much later in the Saga.