Things are unraveling in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a world that manifests, here more than ever, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or reorganizing themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Power is draining from governments, and accumulating in the halls of theocrats, the coffers of business empires, the hands of crowds. "Some force is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says businessman a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the Silk Roads from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and durable are faltering and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and Her Quest
Exactly what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that animates this final volume, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's concluding foray into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting universe he first revealed 30 years ago, with the publication of Northern Lights. It's a world whose terrain maps on to that of the real world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals look and reason and act like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, souls in animal form; where the heavens are filled with witches and legendary creatures, but below, buses are caught and beverages is consumed, and mature scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the first trilogy, and then revisited as a baby in the prequel, the introductory book with which the author began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still distinctly the spiky and determined protagonist of the prior volumes, but more mature, sadder, warier, more doubtful. This limitation is heightened by her division from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, ironically, the cause which led him to leave her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to leave in search of that childlike part of her which she seems to have lost (an quality which he represents as her "imagination"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of the prior book, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a adventurous voyage across the continent and into the mountain region, encountering with marvel and danger on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in action, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the religious governing authority, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of strict, bureaucratic wickedness – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's relative, who faults her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of head of the Magisterium's governing body, and is set on using his fresh power to extend the church's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who carried baby Lyra to safety along a flooded river as an young boy in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a secondary role in spycraft: he is sent to a key location to find out more about Delamare's aims. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and costly essential oil which seems mysteriously to be the cause of a societal and economic disturbance emanating out from the region. The substance is regarded by various factions as a marketable good, by others as a empirical or spiritual miracle, and by others still – the extremist "highland figures" – as a source of evil; an insult that must be obliterated. The question of its origins, what it stands for, and whether it should be removed or protected is becoming urgent.
Like the first series, our protagonist's decisions, and her future, are shown to be inseparably entwined with the future of the world
In its predecessor, these narratives ran largely in tandem. In the conclusion, they converge. As in His Dark Materials, Lyra's movements and her fate are shown to be deeply entwined with the future of the universe. Her personal quest to reconnect with her soul and rediscover her vision becomes the central battleground in a broader battle with an controlling system which, as such regimes typically do, is seeking to suppress independence of thinking, innovation and culture: all the inner, rebellious ways in which people can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The story begins with the discovery of a series of strange cracks in the structure of the Earth's air: windows that appear to open into different dimensions. A particular opening appears to be the point of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The authority, with the antagonist at its helm, classifies these windows as a threat to the institution's beliefs and endeavors to destroy them. As the heroine begins to turn away from strict rationalism and return to intuition, nevertheless, her belief that these locations must be protected – that their significance and what they offer is mysteriously crucial – increases. "The substance, or the extract, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a philosophical conflict between innocence and experience is established.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
