Tings are unraveling in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that manifests, now more than ever, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Institutions are crumbling, or restructuring themselves along new and troubling lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from authorities, and gathering in the chambers of religious leaders, the coffers of conglomerates, the control of rioters. "Some force is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and solid are weakening and giving way."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that drives the concluding book, which continues where its predecessor left off. This is, according to many, Pullman's final foray into the elaborately built, deeply captivating realm he first revealed in the distant past, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose landscape corresponds to that of our world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the people appear and think and act like us, but are joined by animal souls, souls in creature form; where the skies are populated with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, vehicles are taken and beverages is consumed, and mature academics carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first encountered as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the first volume, the prequel with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still clearly the prickly and persistent main character of the previous installments, but older, more sorrowful, more cautious, less certain. This circumscription is intensified by her separation from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to go off in quest of that youthful part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an trait which he represents as her "creativity"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw Lyra undertake a picaresque voyage across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with marvel and peril on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the religious controlling power, and Pullman's deliciously chilling representation of rigid, administrative malice – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – the heroine's relative, who blames her for his sibling's death – has worked himself into the role of leader of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his newfound power to extend the religion's rule. A key character, who rescued infant the heroine to refuge along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is dispatched to the city to find out more about Delamare's aims. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and valuable rose oil which seems somehow to be the source of a societal and economic upheaval rippling out from that area. The extract is seen by some as a marketable product, by others as a empirical or esoteric wonder, and by further factions – the zealous "highland figures" – as a origin of evil; an challenge that must be eradicated. The issue of its origins, what it stands for, and if it should be eliminated or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
As in the original trilogy, the heroine's actions, and her future, are revealed to be deeply linked with the destiny of the universe
In its predecessor, these narratives ran largely in side by side. In this final book, they merge. Like the first trilogy, the protagonist's choices and her destiny are unveiled to be inseparably linked with the future of the realm. Her individual journey to reunite with her companion and recover her imagination becomes the key struggle in a wider battle with an oppressive government which, as these systems often attempt, is attempting to stifle independence of thinking, originality and culture: all the internal, defiant ways in which people can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The novel starts with the unveiling of a collection of curious fissures in the fabric of the world's atmosphere: gateways that appear to open into alternate realities. An example of a window appears to be the origin of the highly contested mystical extract. The church, with Delamare at its helm, classifies these portals as a problem to the institution's beliefs and sets out to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to shift from inflexible logic and revert to feeling, nevertheless, her conviction that these locations must be defended – that their significance and their value is in some way crucial – increases. "Dust, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or no matter what we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a Blakean struggle between purity and experience is set.
Story Tempo and Personal Evolution
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
