Tings are unraveling in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a realm that seems, in this volume especially, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Institutions are failing, or reorganizing themselves along new and troubling lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is draining from authorities, and accumulating in the chambers of religious leaders, the treasuries of business empires, the grasp of rioters. "Some force is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and durable are faltering and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Just what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that drives this final volume, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, according to many, the author's concluding foray into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating world he first revealed 30 years ago, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a world whose geography maps on to that of our world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans appear and think and act like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, essences in creature form; where the skies are populated with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, transports are caught and drinks is consumed, and mature academics carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in the first volume, the origin story with which the author began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still distinctly the spiky and tenacious heroine of the prior volumes, but older, more sorrowful, more careful, less sure. This limitation is amplified by her separation from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
His choice to go off in quest of that innocent part of the heroine which she may have forgotten (an trait which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed the protagonist undertake a adventurous voyage across Europe and into the mountain region, meeting with amazement and risk on the way. But from the start, underlying forces were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the faith's controlling power, and the author's brilliantly sinister representation of rigid, procedural wickedness – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. The antagonist – the heroine's relative, who faults her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of head of the authority's governing body, and is intent on using his fresh influence to extend the religion's control. Another protagonist, who rescued young the heroine to security along a overflowing river as an child in La Belle Sauvage, is now an Oxford don with a secondary role in espionage: he is sent to a key location to find out more about the antagonist's aims. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and costly botanical extract which seems in some way to be the cause of a societal and financial upheaval spreading out from the region. The substance is viewed by various factions as a tradeable good, by others as a scientific or mystical wonder, and by yet others – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a source of malevolence; an affront that must be obliterated. The question of where it comes from, what it stands for, and whether it should be removed or protected is escalating in importance.
Similar to His Dark Materials, our protagonist's decisions, and her fate, are revealed to be inextricably entwined with the fate of the world
In its predecessor, these narratives ran largely in parallel. In the conclusion, they come together. As in the original series, Lyra's actions and her path are unveiled to be deeply entwined with the fate of the universe. Her personal quest to rejoin with her soul and rediscover her vision becomes the central conflict in a broader battle with an oppressive government which, as such regimes often attempt, is striving to stifle independence of reason, innovation and expression: all the personal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The novel opens with the discovery of a series of curious openings in the makeup of the Earth's air: gateways that appear to give on to other worlds. A particular opening manifests to be the source of the highly contested botanical substance. The church, with its leader at its head, designates these portals as a threat to the religion's beliefs and endeavors to destroy them. As our protagonist begins to move from inflexible rationalism and return to intuition, however, her conviction that these locations must be protected – that what they stand for and what they provide is in some way essential – strengthens. "Dust, or the substance, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or whatever we name it," she says, "we require it." The scene for a poetic tussle between innocence and experience is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
