Things are unraveling in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a world that appears, now more than ever, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Organizations are crumbling, or restructuring themselves along new and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from governments, and gathering in the offices of religious leaders, the treasuries of conglomerates, the control of crowds. "An element is at work, very quietly, imperceptibly", says businessman a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and durable are faltering and giving way."
The Central Mystery and Her Quest
Precisely what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that drives this final volume, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth concluded. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's final excursion into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling world he first revealed 30 years ago, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose landscape corresponds to that of the real world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the people look and reason and act like us, but are joined by daemons, beings in beast form; where the heavens are populated with witches and mythical beasts, but below, buses are taken and beverages is sipped, and mature professors carry fancy shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a child in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in the first volume, the prequel with which the author began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still distinctly the prickly and persistent main character of the prior volumes, but older, melancholic, more cautious, less certain. This circumscription is heightened by her split from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to depart in search of that youthful part of the heroine which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he epitomises as her "vision"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which saw the protagonist undertake a adventurous trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with wonder and peril on the way. But from the start, underlying forces were in action, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the religious ruling body, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister representation of rigid, bureaucratic wickedness – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's relative, who faults her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the office of leader of the Magisterium's High Council, and is set on using his fresh power to expand the institution's control. A key character, who carried baby Lyra to refuge along a swollen river as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a additional duty in espionage: he is dispatched to Geneva to learn more about the antagonist's intentions. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the uncommon and costly botanical extract which seems mysteriously to be the cause of a social and financial crisis emanating out from that area. The substance is regarded by certain groups as a tradeable commodity, by alternate groups as a scientific or esoteric miracle, and by further factions – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a origin of malevolence; an insult that must be eradicated. The question of its origins, its significance, and if it should be removed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
Similar to the original trilogy, our protagonist's decisions, and her future, are revealed to be inseparably entwined with the fate of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran broadly in side by side. In the conclusion, they come together. Like His Dark Materials, the protagonist's choices and her fate are revealed to be inseparably woven with the destiny of the world. Her individual quest to reunite with her daemon and rediscover her creativity becomes the key battleground in a wider battle with an authoritarian regime which, as such authorities typically do, is seeking to quell independence of thinking, originality and expression: all the personal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be independent.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The book starts with the unveiling of a series of unusual openings in the structure of the planet's atmosphere: portals that seem to lead to alternate realities. A particular portal manifests to be the point of the highly contested mystical extract. The church, with Delamare at its head, classifies these portals as a challenge to the institution's beliefs and sets out to destroy them. As our protagonist begins to move from inflexible logic and back to feeling, nevertheless, her certainty that these places must be preserved – that their meaning and what they offer is somehow essential – strengthens. "The substance, or the substance, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a poetic tussle between naivety and knowledge is established.
Story Tempo and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
