Things are collapsing in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a realm that manifests, here more than ever, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Institutions are crumbling, or restructuring themselves along novel and troubling lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from authorities, and pooling in the offices of religious leaders, the coffers of conglomerates, the grasp of mobs. "Some force is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and durable are deteriorating and failing."
Core Enigma and The Protagonist's Path
Exactly what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that propels the concluding book, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, by all accounts, the author's final foray into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling realm he first revealed three decades past, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose landscape corresponds to that of the real world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the humans appear and reason and behave like us, but are paired by animal souls, essences in animal form; where the skies are filled with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, buses are caught and beverages is drunk, and middle-aged academics carry luxury shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first met as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a infant in the first volume, the prequel with which the author began the series, is now a adult: still distinctly the sharp and determined heroine of the earlier books, but more mature, more sorrowful, more cautious, less certain. This circumscription is amplified by her division from her daemon, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
The daemon's resolve to leave in pursuit of that childlike part of the heroine which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a picaresque journey across the continent and into the Caucasus, facing with marvel and danger on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in action, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the church's ruling body, and Pullman's deliciously chilling representation of strict, procedural evil – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's family member, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the office of head of the authority's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his recently acquired power to extend the church's control. A key character, who rescued young Lyra to refuge along a flooded river as an young boy in the first book, is now an academic with a sideline in espionage: he is sent to Geneva to find out more about the antagonist's intentions. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the rare and costly rose oil which seems mysteriously to be the origin of a societal and financial upheaval spreading out from the region. The extract is regarded by various factions as a marketable good, by different parties as a scientific or spiritual wonder, and by yet others – the extremist "highland figures" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an affront that must be eradicated. The dilemma of its origins, its meaning, and if it should be eliminated or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
As in His Dark Materials, our protagonist's decisions, and her fate, are revealed to be deeply linked with the future of the universe
In the previous volume, these storylines ran broadly in tandem. In the conclusion, they converge. As in the original series, her actions and her path are revealed to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the world. Her private mission to reunite with her soul and regain her vision becomes the key battleground in a wider war with an authoritarian regime which, as these systems typically do, is attempting to quell autonomy of thought, creativity and culture: all the internal, defiant ways in which people can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Moral Battles
The story begins with the finding of a collection of strange cracks in the fabric of the world's atmosphere: gateways that look to lead to alternate realities. An example of a portal seems to be the source of the much debated rose oil. The Magisterium, with its leader at its helm, designates these windows as a problem to the church's beliefs and endeavors to destroy them. As our protagonist begins to move from inflexible rationalism and return to intuition, yet, her conviction that these locations must be preserved – that their significance and their value is somehow essential – increases. "Dust, or the substance, or the vision, or the field of roses, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we require it." The setting for a Blakean tussle between purity and knowledge is established.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
