Things are falling apart in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a world that seems, here more than ever, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from states, and pooling in the chambers of religious leaders, the treasuries of conglomerates, the grasp of crowds. "Something is at work, silently, very subtly", says merchant a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his post in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and strong are faltering and failing."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Just what that something might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that animates the concluding book, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, reportedly, the author's last foray into the elaborately built, infinitely beguiling realm he first revealed 30 years ago, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose terrain corresponds to that of this world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the humans look and think and behave like us, but are joined by external spirits, beings in creature form; where the air are teeming with sorceresses and gryphons, but underneath, transports are ridden and tea is sipped, and older academics carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the prequel, the introductory book with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still clearly the prickly and determined heroine of the earlier books, but more mature, more sorrowful, more cautious, less certain. This restraint is heightened by her split from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
The daemon's resolve to depart in pursuit of that innocent part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an quality which he represents as her "vision"), and her mission to reunite with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which chronicled Lyra undertake a adventurous journey across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with marvel and peril on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the faith's ruling body, and the author's deliciously chilling representation of strict, bureaucratic wickedness – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's family member, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the office of president of the authority's ruling assembly, and is set on using his newfound influence to extend the church's control. Another protagonist, who saved infant Lyra to safety along a flooded river as an young boy in the first book, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in spycraft: he is sent to Geneva to find out more about Delamare's plans. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and costly rose oil which seems in some way to be the origin of a societal and financial disturbance spreading out from that area. The extract is seen by certain groups as a marketable good, by others as a research-based or spiritual miracle, and by further factions – the zealous "highland figures" – as a source of darkness; an affront that must be obliterated. The dilemma of its origins, what it stands for, and if it should be eliminated or preserved is escalating in importance.
As in His Dark Materials, Lyra's decisions, and her fate, are shown to be inseparably linked with the future of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran largely in side by side. In the conclusion, they merge. Like the original series, Lyra's choices and her fate are revealed to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the universe. Her individual journey to reconnect with her daemon and recover her imagination becomes the key conflict in a broader battle with an oppressive system which, as such regimes often attempt, is striving to suppress freedom of thought, creativity and art: all the inner, resistant ways in which people can be independent.
Cosmic Openings and Moral Battles
The story starts with the discovery of a series of curious cracks in the fabric of the planet's sky: portals that seem to lead to alternate realities. An example of a window seems to be the origin of the much debated mystical extract. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its helm, labels these openings as a problem to the church's beliefs and endeavors to eradicate them. As our protagonist begins to turn away from inflexible logic and revert to instinct, yet, her conviction that these locations must be preserved – that what they stand for and their value is mysteriously vital – increases. "The substance, or the substance, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or whatever we label it," she says, "we require it." The setting for a philosophical struggle between innocence and maturity is established.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
