Things are falling apart in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a world that manifests, here more than ever, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or restructuring themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from authorities, and accumulating in the halls of religious leaders, the treasuries of business empires, the grasp of mobs. "An element is at work, stealthily, gradually", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the Silk Roads from his place in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and solid are weakening and collapsing."
Core Enigma and The Protagonist's Path
Exactly what that something might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that animates this final volume, which picks up where its predecessor concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's concluding venture into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling realm he first unveiled in the distant past, with the publication of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose geography corresponds to that of this world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the humans look and think and behave like us, but are joined by external spirits, beings in beast form; where the skies are populated with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, vehicles are taken and tea is drunk, and mature scholars carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the first volume, the origin story with which the author began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the prickly and determined heroine of the previous installments, but older, melancholic, more cautious, less sure. This restraint is intensified by her separation from her animal guide, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
The daemon's resolve to depart in search of that innocent part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he represents as her "creativity"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed Lyra undertake a picaresque voyage across Europe and into the mountain region, meeting with wonder and risk on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in action, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the religious governing authority, and the author's deliciously chilling representation of austere, administrative malice – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's uncle, who faults her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the office of head of the church's governing body, and is determined on using his fresh influence to broaden the church's control. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued baby the heroine to safety along a overflowing Thames as an child in the first book, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is dispatched to a key location to discover more about Delamare's plans. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and precious essential oil which manifests mysteriously to be the origin of a societal and financial crisis rippling out from the region. The extract is seen by various factions as a marketable commodity, by alternate groups as a research-based or esoteric miracle, and by further factions – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a origin of darkness; an challenge that must be eradicated. The issue of where it comes from, its meaning, and if it should be destroyed or protected is becoming urgent.
Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's decisions, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be deeply linked with the future of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran largely in tandem. In this final book, they converge. Like His Dark Materials, the protagonist's actions and her path are unveiled to be inextricably entwined with the fate of the universe. Her private mission to rejoin with her daemon and rediscover her imagination becomes the primary struggle in a wider war with an oppressive regime which, as such regimes always have, is attempting to quell independence of reason, originality and art: all the inner, rebellious ways in which people can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The story starts with the finding of a collection of curious fissures in the structure of the world's sky: gateways that look to lead to different dimensions. An example of a portal appears to be the source of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The church, with the antagonist at its head, classifies these windows as a threat to the church's beliefs and endeavors to destroy them. As Lyra begins to shift from strict logic and return to intuition, however, her conviction that these locations must be protected – that their meaning and their value is somehow vital – grows. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the vision, or the field of roses, or whatever we label it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a Blakean tussle between naivety and maturity is set.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
