Tings are unraveling in the last installment of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a universe that manifests, here more than ever, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or reassembling themselves along new and disquieting lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from authorities, and pooling in the offices of theocrats, the treasuries of conglomerates, the control of mobs. "Some force is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and solid are weakening and giving way."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that propels the concluding book, which resumes where its predecessor left off. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final venture into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting realm he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the publication of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose geography aligns with that of the real world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the humans look and reason and act like us, but are accompanied by daemons, essences in beast form; where the heavens are filled with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but below, vehicles are caught and tea is sipped, and older scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the first trilogy, and then saw again as a baby in the prequel, the prequel with which Pullman began the series, is now a young woman: still recognisably the prickly and tenacious main character of the previous installments, but more mature, melancholic, more careful, more doubtful. This circumscription is intensified by her separation from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
The daemon's resolve to leave in pursuit of that childlike part of the heroine which she may have forgotten (an trait which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed the protagonist undertake a adventurous trek across Europe and into the mountain region, meeting with amazement and danger on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in action, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the faith's governing authority, and the author's deliciously chilling embodiment of austere, procedural evil – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – Lyra's relative, who faults her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of leader of the church's High Council, and is determined on using his recently acquired authority to broaden the religion's control. Another protagonist, who rescued young the heroine to safety along a swollen Thames as an young boy in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a secondary role in spycraft: he is assigned to a key location to find out more about his plans. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and valuable botanical extract which appears in some way to be the source of a societal and economic crisis rippling out from the region. The extract is seen by certain groups as a marketable commodity, by others as a scientific or spiritual phenomenon, and by further factions – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a source of evil; an challenge that must be eradicated. The issue of where it comes from, its significance, and whether it should be eliminated or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.
Like the first series, Lyra's deeds, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be deeply linked with the destiny of the world
In its predecessor, these plots ran mostly in parallel. In this final book, they come together. Similar to His Dark Materials, her choices and her path are shown to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the world. Her personal quest to reunite with her soul and rediscover her imagination becomes the primary battleground in a broader war with an authoritarian regime which, as these systems often attempt, is attempting to quell independence of reason, creativity and art: all the inner, rebellious ways in which people can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles
The book begins with the finding of a series of strange cracks in the fabric of the world's air: windows that appear to lead to alternate realities. A particular portal manifests to be the point of the much debated rose oil. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its head, designates these portals as a threat to the religion's doctrine and sets out to destroy them. As Lyra begins to turn away from strict reason and return to instinct, however, her conviction that these places must be preserved – that their meaning and what they provide is in some way crucial – increases. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the imagination, or the field of roses, or whatever we name it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a Blakean tussle between naivety and maturity is prepared.
Story Tempo and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
