One of the elements that I've enjoyed the most in Frank Herbert's book, Dune, is the poetic style of writing that this author has. Not only are his quotations and poetry beautiful, but I have to have respect for a guy who can come up with so many fascinating names, titles, etc. It takes a rare talent to be able to come up with a really nice title, in my opinion. For example, the name St.-Alia-of-the-Knife. It's an intriguing name. This is an author with a true talent for manipulating language.
I'm writing a unit plan about the Hero's Journey for my 8th graders; one of the steps in the Journey is, obviously, the return. The interesting thing about this step is that it can be written so many different ways: with joy, with sorrow, and sometimes, sometimes, with a mixture of the two. If done artfully, this creates a feeling of haunting melancholy. J. R. R. Tolkien accomplished this feeling at the end of the Lord of the Rings, when the hobbits return to Hobbiton. He mitigates it, however, with the scouring of the Shire - one last battle, one last cause to rejoice. Peter Jackson stripped this element from the story in his film rendition, which I originally found unbearably, achingly sad. Jackson's ending is that classic, melancholy ending, which doesn't allow for true rejoicing, because so much sorrow has been passed through. After reflection, I don't dislike Jackson's ending, though it always makes me want to weep. It is hauntingly poignant because the hobbits in the Shire don't even realize they've been saved from destruction. Though the Shire is beautiful, the crops are in, the people are happy, Frodo (and his companions) can't appreciate it in the innocence that they once knew.
Maybe this means so much to me because I've been depressed before. I don't mean to make light of it - I'm speaking in earnest. There's a feeling, when you're truly depressed, that the beauty in the world around you should mean something more than it does, but it can't. Beauty haunts you, in fact, because it can't make you happy, or whole.
How does this relate to Dune? The feeling I'm trying to describe, the feeling at the end of Jackson's LOTR, is captured in a poem in Dune.
Orchards and vineyards,
And full-breasted houris,
And a cup overflowing before me.
Why do I babble of battles,
And mountains reduced to dust?
Why do I feel these tears?
Heavens stand open
And scatter their riches;
My hands need but to gather their wealth.
Why do I think of an ambush,
And poison in molten cup?
Why do I feel my years?
Love's arms beckon
With their naked delights,
And Eden's promise of ecstasies.
Why do I remember the scars,
Dream of old transgressions...
And why do I sleep with fears?
