Things are falling apart in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a realm that appears, in this volume especially, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Institutions are failing, or restructuring themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from states, and gathering in the halls of religious leaders, the vaults of corporations, the grasp of mobs. "Some force is at work, very quietly, imperceptibly", says merchant a trader character, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his post in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and strong are faltering and giving way."
Key Puzzle and Her Quest
Just what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the question that drives this final volume, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final excursion into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting universe he first revealed three decades past, with the launch of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose terrain corresponds to that of the real world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the people appear and think and act like us, but are paired by external spirits, souls in beast form; where the heavens are teeming with enchantresses and gryphons, but beneath those skies, vehicles are taken and beverages is consumed, and middle-aged scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first met as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still distinctly the sharp and persistent heroine of the prior volumes, but more mature, sadder, more careful, less sure. This limitation is amplified by her separation from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which made him desert her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to depart in search of that youthful part of her which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which followed the protagonist undertake a wandering trek across Europe and into the mountain region, meeting with amazement and danger on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the church's ruling body, and Pullman's deliciously chilling incarnation of strict, administrative wickedness – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – Lyra's relative, who blames her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the office of leader of the Magisterium's High Council, and is determined on using his fresh authority to extend the church's dominium. Another protagonist, who rescued infant Lyra to refuge along a overflowing river as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a additional duty in espionage: he is dispatched to a key location to learn more about his intentions. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and valuable rose oil which appears somehow to be the cause of a social and financial crisis spreading out from that area. The extract is viewed by some as a commercial good, by different parties as a research-based or spiritual wonder, and by further factions – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an insult that must be eradicated. The dilemma of where it comes from, its meaning, and whether it should be removed or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in the original trilogy, the heroine's actions, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be deeply linked with the fate of the realm
In its predecessor, these narratives ran largely in tandem. In the conclusion, they come together. Like the first trilogy, Lyra's actions and her fate are shown to be inextricably entwined with the fate of the realm. Her individual quest to rejoin with her soul and regain her vision becomes the primary battleground in a wider war with an authoritarian regime which, as such regimes often attempt, is seeking to suppress freedom of thought, creativity and expression: all the personal, resistant ways in which humans can be independent.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The book begins with the unveiling of a collection of unusual cracks in the structure of the planet's atmosphere: gateways that seem to lead to other worlds. An example of a opening seems to be the point of the fiercely disputed mystical extract. The authority, with Delamare at its leadership, classifies these windows as a challenge to the church's beliefs and sets out to eradicate them. As our protagonist begins to turn away from inflexible rationalism and revert to instinct, yet, her conviction that these places must be defended – that what they stand for and their value is in some way crucial – grows. "Dust, or the substance, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or whatever we name it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a philosophical conflict between naivety and maturity is prepared.
Story Tempo and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
