Tings are collapsing in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a world that appears, in this volume especially, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Organizations are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from authorities, and pooling in the chambers of religious leaders, the vaults of conglomerates, the grasp of crowds. "Something is at work, stealthily, very subtly", says trader a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and durable are deteriorating and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and Her Quest
Precisely what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that animates this final volume, which resumes where its predecessor ended. This is, reportedly, the author's final excursion into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling world he first unveiled in the distant past, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a world whose landscape aligns with that of our world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals look and reason and act like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, souls in creature form; where the heavens are teeming with witches and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, buses are caught and tea is drunk, and older scholars carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in La Belle Sauvage, the origin story with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a young woman: still clearly the sharp and persistent main character of the earlier books, but more mature, more sorrowful, more careful, less sure. This circumscription is amplified by her separation from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
The daemon's resolve to leave in search of that childlike part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed Lyra undertake a picaresque voyage across Europe and into the Caucasus, facing with marvel and peril on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in play, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the religious governing authority, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister incarnation of strict, bureaucratic malice – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's uncle, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of leader of the church's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his newfound influence to expand the institution's control. Another protagonist, who saved baby Lyra to safety along a swollen river as an young boy in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a additional duty in spycraft: he is dispatched to the city to discover more about the antagonist's aims. And beneath all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and valuable botanical extract which seems mysteriously to be the cause of a social and economic disturbance emanating out from Central Asia. The extract is regarded by some as a tradeable product, by different parties as a scientific or esoteric wonder, and by further factions – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of evil; an challenge that must be obliterated. The question of where it comes from, its meaning, and if it should be eliminated or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
Like His Dark Materials, the heroine's deeds, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be deeply linked with the fate of the realm
In its predecessor, these plots ran largely in tandem. In this final book, they merge. Similar to the original series, her choices and her destiny are revealed to be inextricably linked with the future of the universe. Her personal mission to reunite with her soul and recover her imagination becomes the central conflict in a broader conflict with an authoritarian government which, as such authorities often attempt, is striving to stifle independence of reason, creativity and expression: all the internal, defiant ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The story starts with the discovery of a collection of unusual cracks in the fabric of the Earth's sky: windows that appear to open into other worlds. A particular window appears to be the source of the highly contested rose oil. The authority, with Delamare at its head, designates these openings as a problem to the church's doctrine and aims to eradicate them. As our protagonist begins to shift from strict rationalism and return to instinct, nevertheless, her belief that these locations must be defended – that their significance and what they offer is somehow crucial – grows. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or whatever we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a philosophical conflict between naivety and knowledge is established.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
