Things are unraveling in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the second of the author's masterful trilogies set in a realm that manifests, in this volume especially, as a intense and slanted version of our own. Establishments are failing, or reassembling themselves along novel and troubling lines. An unseen force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from authorities, and gathering in the chambers of religious leaders, the vaults of business empires, the hands of crowds. "Some force is at work, stealthily, gradually", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were secure and solid are deteriorating and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that propels this final volume, which resumes where the previous book left off. This is, according to many, Pullman's last foray into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting realm he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the launch of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose geography maps on to that of our world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the humans look and think and act like us, but are paired by daemons, beings in animal form; where the skies are filled with witches and gryphons, but beneath those skies, buses are taken and tea is consumed, and older scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first met as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a baby in the first volume, the introductory book with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still distinctly the spiky and persistent protagonist of the earlier books, but more mature, sadder, more careful, less certain. This restraint is amplified by her separation from her daemon, Pan – but it was also, paradoxically, the cause which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
The daemon's resolve to go off in quest of that youthful part of her which she appears to have shed (an trait which he represents as her "imagination"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which saw the protagonist undertake a picaresque trek across Europe and into the Caucasus, meeting with marvel and peril on the way. But from the start, underlying forces were in play, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the church's controlling power, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of strict, procedural evil – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – our protagonist's uncle, who faults her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the office of president of the Magisterium's governing body, and is intent on using his newfound power to extend the church's dominium. Another protagonist, who carried young Lyra to security along a flooded river as an young boy in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a sideline in spycraft: he is sent to a key location to learn more about his plans. And beneath all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and precious essential oil which seems somehow to be the cause of a social and financial disturbance emanating out from that area. The extract is seen by various factions as a tradeable product, by different parties as a research-based or spiritual phenomenon, and by others still – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a origin of evil; an challenge that must be eradicated. The issue of its source, what it stands for, and if it should be destroyed or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
Like the first series, the heroine's deeds, and her future, are revealed to be inextricably linked with the fate of the universe
In its predecessor, these narratives ran largely in side by side. In this final book, they converge. Similar to the original series, Lyra's actions and her path are shown to be deeply linked with the destiny of the world. Her individual quest to reconnect with her companion and rediscover her creativity becomes the key struggle in a wider conflict with an oppressive system which, as these systems often attempt, is seeking to quell autonomy of thinking, creativity and culture: all the personal, defiant ways in which humans can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The story opens with the finding of a series of unusual cracks in the makeup of the Earth's sky: gateways that seem to open into different dimensions. A particular portal manifests to be the origin of the highly contested rose oil. The church, with its leader at its leadership, labels these portals as a problem to the religion's orthodoxy and endeavors to destroy them. As Lyra begins to turn away from strict rationalism and revert to intuition, however, her certainty that these sites must be defended – that what they stand for and what they provide is somehow crucial – strengthens. "Dust, or rose oil, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a philosophical tussle between purity and knowledge is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
