Tings are collapsing in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a realm that appears, here more than ever, as a charged and slanted version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or restructuring themselves along new and troubling lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Control is draining from states, and pooling in the chambers of religious leaders, the treasuries of conglomerates, the hands of mobs. "An element is at work, stealthily, gradually", says trader a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the Silk Roads from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and strong are weakening and collapsing."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that propels this final volume, which picks up where the previous book left off. This is, reportedly, the author's final foray into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting world he first unveiled three decades past, with the launch of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose geography corresponds to that of our world, but whose past diverges and shifts with ours; where the humans appear and think and behave like us, but are accompanied by daemons, souls in creature form; where the skies are filled with witches and gryphons, but beneath those skies, vehicles are caught and drinks is drunk, and middle-aged academics carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in the first volume, the prequel with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still distinctly the prickly and tenacious protagonist of the previous installments, but more mature, sadder, warier, more doubtful. This restraint is intensified by her split from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to depart in search of that childlike part of the heroine which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he represents as her "creativity"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which followed Lyra undertake a wandering voyage across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with marvel and risk on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in action, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the faith's ruling body, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of rigid, bureaucratic evil – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. The antagonist – our protagonist's family member, who faults her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the role of president of the Magisterium's High Council, and is set on using his newfound power to expand the institution's dominium. Another protagonist, who saved infant Lyra to safety along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an university scholar with a secondary role in intelligence work: he is sent to Geneva to find out more about the antagonist's intentions. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and precious essential oil which appears mysteriously to be the cause of a social and economic disturbance spreading out from that area. The oil is viewed by some as a marketable commodity, by different parties as a scientific or esoteric wonder, and by yet others – the extremist "highland figures" – as a source of evil; an insult that must be eradicated. The dilemma of where it comes from, what it stands for, and if it should be destroyed or protected is escalating in importance.
Similar to the original trilogy, Lyra's decisions, and her future, are demonstrated to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran broadly in tandem. In this final book, they converge. Like His Dark Materials, Lyra's movements and her destiny are unveiled to be inseparably linked with the destiny of the universe. Her private journey to reconnect with her daemon and regain her creativity becomes the central battleground in a wider battle with an authoritarian government which, as these systems always have, is seeking to suppress freedom of thought, creativity and culture: all the personal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The story begins with the discovery of a set of unusual fissures in the structure of the Earth's air: windows that look to open into alternate realities. An example of a portal manifests to be the source of the much debated mystical extract. The authority, with its leader at its helm, labels these portals as a problem to the institution's orthodoxy and sets out to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to shift from inflexible reason and revert to instinct, yet, her certainty that these sites must be protected – that their significance and what they offer is somehow essential – strengthens. "Dust, or the substance, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a philosophical conflict between naivety and knowledge is set.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
