Things are unraveling in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that seems, now more than ever, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or reassembling themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from governments, and pooling in the halls of theocrats, the vaults of business empires, the control of mobs. "An element is at work, stealthily, gradually", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a vigilant eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and strong are weakening and giving way."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Just what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that animates the concluding book, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth concluded. This is, by all accounts, the author's last foray into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting universe he first revealed in the distant past, with the launch of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose geography aligns with that of the real world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the individuals appear and reason and act like us, but are paired by external spirits, beings in beast form; where the skies are teeming with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but below, vehicles are ridden and beverages is consumed, and middle-aged professors carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a child in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in La Belle Sauvage, the origin story with which Pullman began the series, is now a adult: still clearly the sharp and tenacious heroine of the prior volumes, but aged, melancholic, warier, less sure. This limitation is heightened by her division from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, paradoxically, the cause which led him to leave her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to leave in quest of that innocent part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed Lyra undertake a wandering journey across the continent and into the Caucasus, meeting with wonder and peril on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the religious ruling body, and the author's masterfully eerie incarnation of rigid, administrative wickedness – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – Lyra's uncle, who blames her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the position of leader of the Magisterium's governing body, and is intent on using his recently acquired power to expand the church's dominium. A key character, who carried infant the heroine to refuge along a swollen Thames as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an university scholar with a sideline in spycraft: he is dispatched to Geneva to find out more about Delamare's plans. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and valuable botanical extract which seems in some way to be the origin of a social and economic disturbance rippling out from the region. The oil is seen by various factions as a tradeable commodity, by alternate groups as a scientific or esoteric phenomenon, and by yet others – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a source of evil; an insult that must be destroyed. The dilemma of its origins, its meaning, and if it should be destroyed or protected is escalating in importance.
Like His Dark Materials, the heroine's actions, and her destiny, are shown to be deeply linked with the fate of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran largely in side by side. In the conclusion, they converge. As in His Dark Materials, her choices and her fate are shown to be deeply linked with the destiny of the realm. Her personal mission to reconnect with her soul and regain her vision becomes the key conflict in a larger battle with an oppressive system which, as these systems typically do, is attempting to suppress autonomy of thought, creativity and culture: all the personal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The novel opens with the finding of a series of unusual fissures in the fabric of the planet's atmosphere: windows that appear to give on to different dimensions. An example of a window appears to be the source of the highly contested mystical extract. The authority, with the antagonist at its head, labels these portals as a threat to the church's orthodoxy and endeavors to eradicate them. As our protagonist begins to move from strict reason and return to instinct, yet, her conviction that these places must be protected – that their significance and what they offer is in some way essential – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or whatever we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a poetic tussle between innocence and experience is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
