A Guilty. . .Guiltiness

Yes, you've read right. I'm reading a Frank Herbert book. I know he has that reputation of believing he's smarter than everyone else in the universe, and for writing books that could very well be soap operas if they weren't so damn long, but there's just something compelling about reading Herbert. You can count on his characters being arrogant, God-like, weak-minded and sneaky when they need to be. Sure, you could say the characters don't change from book to book, just the names do. Go ahead. I say it. But his books are still a joy to read.

My favorite? The White Plague. I'd like to see someone make a movie of that one, but as with his other books, it would be a hard one to translate onto the screen. I like this one because there's an air of plausability about his tale of bioterrorism that you just don't get in other tales, because he has the talent to fill things out. The only thread I didn't much understand was the killing of the Pope in Philadelphia. He lost me on that.

I hear that someone's making a third attempt at filming Dune. Good luck to them. . .