"He looked at his hand. How inadequate it appeared when measured against such creatures as that worm."

This is one of those books I always felt like I should read, but never actually ended up doing so. The mixed reviews from friends that oscillated between it being the best book ever to it being the most boring book ever didn't really instill confidence in me, and it's quite a large book to commit to if you're not even sure people like it. If it wasn't for the movie coming out, I likely would continue kicking the can down the road until I either ran out of can or ran out of road. My friends goaded me into finally reading it, and while it took me forever, I can finally say I've read it. I can also confidently say that this is the best book I'll never revisit.

For the good, the worldbuilding is spectacular, and the entire reason I finished the book. Full disclosure, I did not read the appendices, but what was included in the actual novel was enough to keep me engaged. I wanted to love this journey I was on, Frank Herbert kept my imagination fed and made it easy for me to picture the desert, the vistas, the people, the scenes. I loved reading the descriptions for that alone.

Unfortunately pretty scenery does not a great book make. I found the characters vaguely unpleasant, and boring in some cases. Herbert's reliance on the auto-win Bene Gesserit button also made any conflict predictable and flat. The pacing also felt really weird in places; things have a slow steady buildup in the beginning, and then suddenly we're clearing entire years in a few pages with very little warning.

I'm glad I read this in anticipation of seeing the movie, but I likely will not re-read it, nor will I read the followup novels.