Tings are collapsing in the last installment of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a universe that seems, in this volume especially, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar 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". Authority is flowing away from governments, and accumulating in the chambers of theocrats, the treasuries of conglomerates, the control of mobs. "Something is at work, very quietly, imperceptibly", says businessman a merchant figure, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his place in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and strong are weakening and giving way."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the question that drives the concluding book, which continues where the previous book left off. This is, reportedly, Pullman's concluding venture into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling universe he first revealed in the distant past, with the launch of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose geography aligns with that of this world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the individuals appear and think and behave like us, but are paired by animal souls, souls in creature form; where the heavens are filled with witches and mythical beasts, but below, buses are taken and beverages is sipped, and older scholars carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the origin story with which the author began the series, is now a adult: still distinctly the sharp and determined protagonist of the prior volumes, but more mature, more sorrowful, warier, more doubtful. This restraint is amplified by her division from her animal guide, her daemon – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to depart in pursuit of that youthful part of the heroine which she appears to have shed (an trait which he represents as her "creativity"), and her mission to reunite with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw the protagonist undertake a wandering voyage across the continent and into the mountain region, meeting with marvel and danger on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in action, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the church's controlling power, and the author's masterfully eerie embodiment of rigid, bureaucratic evil – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's family member, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has positioned himself into the office of head of the church's ruling assembly, and is set on using his newfound influence to expand the religion's control. Another protagonist, who carried infant Lyra to security along a overflowing Thames as an young boy in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is dispatched to a key location to learn more about the antagonist's plans. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and valuable botanical extract which appears in some way to be the origin of a societal and economic upheaval rippling out from Central Asia. The extract is seen by some as a commercial product, by alternate groups as a empirical or spiritual miracle, and by others still – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of darkness; an affront that must be obliterated. The question of where it comes from, its significance, and whether it should be removed or preserved is becoming urgent.
Similar to the first series, our protagonist's deeds, and her future, are revealed to be inextricably connected with the fate of the world
In the previous volume, these storylines ran mostly in side by side. In the conclusion, they merge. Similar to the original series, the protagonist's movements and her destiny are shown to be deeply woven with the future of the universe. Her private mission to reunite with her companion and recover her vision becomes the central struggle in a broader battle with an controlling system which, as such regimes always have, is attempting to quell independence of thinking, originality and expression: all the internal, rebellious ways in which people can be independent.
Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles
The book begins with the unveiling of a set of curious fissures in the structure of the planet's air: portals that look to give on to different dimensions. One such window manifests to be the source of the highly contested mystical extract. The church, with Delamare at its head, designates these openings as a problem to the institution's doctrine and aims to destroy them. As Lyra begins to shift from strict logic and return to feeling, however, her certainty that these locations must be defended – that what they stand for and what they provide is mysteriously vital – increases. "The substance, or rose oil, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or whatever we call it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a philosophical conflict between innocence and knowledge is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
