It is the near future and signs of an impending global disaster are multiplying. Earthquakes, floods and volcanic eruptions sweep the earth. As the storms and tempests rage, a series of ominous events signal the emergence of a new and terrifying force.
While scuba-diving on the Great Barrier Reef a diver watches fascinated as a tiny light floats past him towards the surface. Moments later he is torn to pieces as the reef erupts with colossal power.
On the banks of the Ganges, a young boy pauses from his back-breaking labours, transfixed by the play of a mysterious light amidst the monsoon rains, before a towering geyser of boiling water bursts from beneath the streets, scalding him to death.
In the Chinese city of Kashi travellers bring back reports of a strange light seen shining above the endless dunes of the Taklimakan Desert. And as the city’s inhabitants watch for its return, the desert rises up to engulf them in a tidal wave of sand.
All have seen a portent. A sign of unimaginable powers about to be unleashed. A sign that something incredible is about to begin…
I’m now 18 books into Herbert’s 23 print novels. And all I’m thinking at this point is…
Well, this was a freaking mess, wasn’t it?
I know Herbert can go really off course in his horror, and I know he loves to throw in a new character with an elaborate five-page backstory, only to kill them off on the sixth page. I also know that, for the last few books, I’ve felt that Herbert had pretty much played out all his good stories, then his average stories, and was now plundering the mediocre thoughts that crossed his mind enough to mash into some semblance of a story.
Not necessarily a coherent story, mind you. But a story. Because, I think, by this time, anyone who’d read him with any frequency might just buy him on name recognition alone.
This is, I guess, ecological horror. But with an incredibly thin story, Herbert had to pad it out with…well…something…so he throws in a voodoo woman with muddy motivations, and a couple of kids with, depending on the chapter, supernatural or godlike powers. He, of course, has to throw in the romance angle too. And finally…more padding…lots and lots of padding of various ecological disasters from the point of view of a single, overdescribed character (including one that—I’m not kidding—has sex with a tree).
Normally, I’d say I’m done with Herbert, but there’s two things keeping me going to finish his bibliography.
The first is, I only have five more books left.
The second is, surely to god it can’t get any worse than this train wreck.
