Things are collapsing in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a realm that manifests, now more than ever, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Institutions are failing, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from authorities, and gathering in the halls of religious leaders, the coffers of business empires, the grasp of rioters. "Something is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says trader a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and solid are deteriorating and failing."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Just what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that animates this final volume, which continues where the previous book concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's concluding excursion into the elaborately built, endlessly enchanting world he first introduced in the distant past, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose geography corresponds to that of the real world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the humans look and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by daemons, essences in animal form; where the air are filled with enchantresses and gryphons, but below, vehicles are taken and drinks is consumed, and mature professors carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in the prequel, the prequel with which the author began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still distinctly the spiky and persistent main character of the prior volumes, but aged, sadder, more cautious, more doubtful. This restraint is intensified by her separation from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
The daemon's resolve to leave in quest of that childlike part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which followed Lyra undertake a adventurous voyage across Europe and into the mountain region, meeting with marvel and peril on the way. But from the beginning, deeper currents were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the church's governing authority, and the author's deliciously chilling incarnation of austere, administrative wickedness – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – our protagonist's relative, who blames her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the position of head of the church's governing body, and is determined on using his recently acquired influence to extend the institution's control. Malcolm Polstead, who saved infant Lyra to security along a swollen river as an child in the first book, is now an academic with a sideline in espionage: he is dispatched to Geneva to learn more about Delamare's intentions. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and costly essential oil which seems mysteriously to be the origin of a societal and financial crisis spreading out from Central Asia. The substance is seen by certain groups as a commercial commodity, by others as a research-based or mystical miracle, and by yet others – the extremist "highland figures" – as a origin of darkness; an challenge that must be obliterated. The dilemma of its origins, its meaning, and if it should be removed or protected is escalating in importance.
Like His Dark Materials, our protagonist's actions, and her fate, are shown to be inseparably connected with the future of the universe
In its predecessor, these narratives ran broadly in parallel. In the conclusion, they converge. Like His Dark Materials, her actions and her fate are revealed to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the world. Her individual quest to reconnect with her soul and regain her vision becomes the primary struggle in a wider war with an controlling system which, as these systems typically do, is attempting to quell independence of thinking, originality and culture: all the inner, defiant ways in which people can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Moral Battles
The book opens with the unveiling of a collection of strange fissures in the structure of the planet's atmosphere: windows that appear to open into alternate realities. One such portal manifests to be the source of the much debated rose oil. The authority, with the antagonist at its head, designates these windows as a challenge to the church's orthodoxy and endeavors to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to move from rigid rationalism and back to intuition, nevertheless, her belief that these places must be preserved – that their significance and what they provide is in some way crucial – grows. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a Blakean conflict between innocence and maturity is established.
Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
