I absolutely loved it too and it's definetely one of my favorite books ever but don't forget to take it with a grain of salt.

Looked at with a critical eye it's cloyingly thick with juvenile male power fantasy. Skinny teenager finds wellspring of innate ability within himself and grapples to point the firehose of his own greatness in the right direction. Also he doesn't fear and even gives you a little no-fear prayer to mutter while you brood your way through anything in your way.

Then pile on two heaping spoonfuls of borrowed Arabic mysticism, it's obvious but nonetheless tirelessly fun; And keep piling them on, just whenever there's a pause go ahead and scoop some more of that on.

One thing leads to another, kill your dad marry your daughter make a baby with your mom; No wait unscramble that into a regular plot but keep it weird somehow. Doesn't really matter how you do it the point is you get yourself a tiny wife who's good at fighting and your sister's like a fucking prodegy and then why not a second wife too. Just a harem of women around you.

Then I don't know, atomic bombs? Don't tie anything up though, your son might want to take this thing in a different direction, or maybe every direction.

P.s. You poop in your stillsuit but let's just imply that in passing because there's really no way to explain that and not make it sound like a poopy diaper.

Luckily you've got the Spice to hold this all up and it's core originality really is sturdy enough to carry it. The Spice expands consciousness, the Spice is vital to space travel, The Spice is vital to this novel.

^{Remember this is only a critical take on it. It's a great book I just wish the Spice and it's properties were somehow more deeply involved or delved into rather than just banging on about how much of it they eat, how important it is and then involving it in the plot mostly as a commodity analogue of crude oil.}

^{The Spice could have so much more depth to it but maybe I just need to read the sequels.}