Tings are collapsing in the last installment of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that appears, now more than ever, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Organizations are failing, or restructuring themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from authorities, and accumulating in the chambers of religious leaders, the vaults of corporations, the hands of crowds. "An element is at work, very quietly, gradually", says businessman a merchant figure, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were firm and solid are deteriorating and giving way."
Core Enigma and The Protagonist's Path
Just what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that propels the concluding book, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, according to many, Pullman's final foray into the elaborately built, endlessly enchanting realm he first revealed 30 years ago, with the publication of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose terrain maps on to that of our world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the humans look and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, essences in beast form; where the skies are populated with sorceresses and gryphons, but below, buses are ridden and tea is consumed, and older scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the first volume, the origin story with which the author began the series, is now a adult: still distinctly the prickly and tenacious main character of the previous installments, but aged, more sorrowful, more careful, more doubtful. This limitation is amplified by her division from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
The daemon's resolve to depart in quest of that childlike part of her which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he represents as her "imagination"), and her journey to reunite with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed Lyra undertake a adventurous journey across the continent and into the Caucasus, facing with wonder and peril on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the faith's ruling body, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister representation of austere, bureaucratic malice – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. The antagonist – Lyra's uncle, who faults her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of leader of the church's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his newfound power to broaden the institution's rule. Another protagonist, who carried young Lyra to security along a swollen river as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an academic with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is dispatched to Geneva to find out more about his intentions. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and precious rose oil which seems somehow to be the origin of a social and financial upheaval emanating out from that area. The extract is viewed by certain groups as a marketable product, by others as a research-based or spiritual wonder, and by further factions – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a origin of evil; an insult that must be eradicated. The issue of its source, what it stands for, and whether it should be destroyed or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in the original trilogy, the heroine's actions, and her fate, are shown to be inextricably entwined with the future of the realm
In its predecessor, these narratives ran broadly in side by side. In this final book, they come together. As in His Dark Materials, the protagonist's movements and her destiny are unveiled to be deeply linked with the fate of the realm. Her private mission to reconnect with her companion and rediscover her vision becomes the key battleground in a broader conflict with an oppressive government which, as such authorities always have, is seeking to suppress autonomy of reason, originality and expression: all the internal, resistant ways in which people can be independent.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The novel starts with the finding of a collection of unusual openings in the fabric of the Earth's air: portals that appear to lead to other worlds. An example of a window manifests to be the source of the much debated mystical extract. The authority, with the antagonist at its helm, designates these openings as a challenge to the church's doctrine and endeavors to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to move from rigid logic and return to instinct, yet, her conviction that these locations must be defended – that their meaning and what they provide is in some way essential – increases. "Dust, or the substance, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a Blakean tussle between innocence and maturity is established.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
