Things are unraveling in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that seems, in this volume especially, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Institutions are failing, or reorganizing themselves along new and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from authorities, and pooling in the chambers of religious leaders, the vaults of corporations, the hands of rioters. "An element is at work, stealthily, gradually", says businessman a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and durable are deteriorating and collapsing."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Exactly what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that propels the concluding book, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, according to many, Pullman's concluding foray into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting universe he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the launch of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose geography corresponds to that of this world, but whose past diverges and shifts with ours; where the humans appear and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, beings in beast form; where the air are populated with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but below, buses are caught and tea is consumed, and middle-aged professors carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first met as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a infant in La Belle Sauvage, the origin story with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the prickly and determined heroine of the prior volumes, but older, sadder, more careful, less sure. This limitation is intensified by her split from her daemon, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to go off in search of that innocent part of the heroine which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he epitomises as her "vision"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which chronicled Lyra undertake a picaresque journey across Europe and into the Caucasus, facing with amazement and peril on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in action, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the church's ruling body, and Pullman's deliciously chilling incarnation of rigid, administrative malice – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's uncle, who blames her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the office of leader of the authority's governing body, and is determined on using his recently acquired influence to broaden the institution's control. A key character, who carried infant Lyra to refuge along a overflowing river as an young boy in the first book, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is sent to Geneva to discover more about the antagonist's aims. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and valuable botanical extract which appears mysteriously to be the origin of a social and financial upheaval rippling out from the region. The extract is seen by certain groups as a marketable good, by different parties as a research-based or esoteric wonder, and by others still – the zealous "highland figures" – as a origin of evil; an insult that must be eradicated. The question of where it comes from, its significance, and if it should be removed or protected is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in the first series, our protagonist's actions, and her fate, are revealed to be inextricably entwined with the fate of the realm
In the previous volume, these narratives ran broadly in side by side. In the conclusion, they come together. As in His Dark Materials, the protagonist's actions and her fate are revealed to be inseparably linked with the fate of the realm. Her personal journey to reconnect with her daemon and recover her vision becomes the central struggle in a larger war with an oppressive regime which, as such authorities always have, is attempting to stifle freedom of thinking, innovation and culture: all the inner, defiant ways in which individuals can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The story begins with the discovery of a series of curious fissures in the fabric of the world's air: gateways that appear to lead to alternate realities. A particular window manifests to be the origin of the much debated mystical extract. The church, with the antagonist at its helm, designates these portals as a problem to the institution's doctrine and endeavors to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to shift from rigid rationalism and revert to intuition, yet, her conviction that these locations must be protected – that their meaning and what they offer is in some way crucial – strengthens. "Dust, or the substance, or the imagination, or the field of roses, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a Blakean conflict between innocence and experience is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
