Things are unraveling in the last installment of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a realm that seems, here more than ever, as a charged and slanted version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or restructuring themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An invisible force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is draining from states, and pooling in the halls of religious leaders, the vaults of conglomerates, the hands of crowds. "Something is at work, very quietly, gradually", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his post in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and solid are weakening and failing."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that animates the concluding book, which picks up where the previous book ended. This is, reportedly, the author's last excursion into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting universe he first unveiled in the distant past, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose geography aligns with that of this world, but whose past diverges and shifts with ours; where the people appear and think and behave like us, but are joined by animal souls, souls in animal form; where the skies are teeming with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, vehicles are caught and tea is drunk, and mature scholars carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the prequel, the prequel with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still recognisably the sharp and tenacious main character of the earlier books, but older, melancholic, more cautious, less certain. This circumscription is heightened by her split from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
The daemon's resolve to leave in pursuit of that childlike part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an quality which he epitomises as her "vision"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a picaresque trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with wonder and risk on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in action, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the faith's ruling body, and the author's deliciously chilling incarnation of strict, bureaucratic malice – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – our protagonist's family member, who blames her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of president of the Magisterium's High Council, and is set on using his newfound authority to expand the religion's rule. Another protagonist, who rescued infant the heroine to security along a flooded Thames as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an academic with a sideline in espionage: he is sent to the city to learn more about Delamare's plans. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and costly essential oil which appears in some way to be the origin of a social and economic upheaval emanating out from Central Asia. The oil is seen by certain groups as a tradeable commodity, by alternate groups as a empirical or spiritual phenomenon, and by further factions – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a source of malevolence; an insult that must be obliterated. The question of its origins, what it stands for, and if it should be removed or preserved is escalating in importance.
As in His Dark Materials, the heroine's deeds, and her destiny, are revealed to be deeply linked with the fate of the realm
In its predecessor, these narratives ran broadly in parallel. In the conclusion, they converge. Similar to the original series, the protagonist's movements and her fate are shown to be inextricably woven with the fate of the realm. Her private journey to reunite with her companion and recover her imagination becomes the central battleground in a wider war with an oppressive regime which, as such regimes often attempt, is attempting to quell independence of thought, creativity and art: all the inner, rebellious ways in which people can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The book starts with the unveiling of a series of unusual cracks in the makeup of the planet's sky: portals that seem to give on to alternate realities. A particular opening manifests to be the source of the much debated rose oil. The church, with its leader at its leadership, classifies these portals as a problem to the religion's beliefs and endeavors to eradicate them. As our protagonist begins to move from rigid rationalism and back to intuition, yet, her certainty that these places must be preserved – that their significance and what they provide is somehow crucial – strengthens. "Dust, or the substance, or the vision, or the field of roses, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a Blakean tussle between innocence and maturity is prepared.
Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
