Things are unraveling in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a realm that appears, here more than ever, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Control is shifting from authorities, and accumulating in the chambers of theocrats, the vaults of corporations, the control of crowds. "Some force is at work, silently, very subtly", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his post in an city cafe. "Things we thought were secure and durable are deteriorating and giving way."
Key Puzzle and Her Quest
Exactly what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that propels the concluding book, which resumes where the previous book concluded. This is, reportedly, the author's last foray into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting universe he first introduced in the distant past, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose geography maps on to that of our world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals look and think and act like us, but are joined by daemons, beings in creature form; where the air are filled with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, transports are ridden and tea is drunk, and mature professors carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a child in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the prequel, the prequel with which Pullman began the series, is now a adult: still clearly the sharp and persistent heroine of the prior volumes, but aged, melancholic, more cautious, more doubtful. This circumscription is heightened by her division from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the cause which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to go off in search of that youthful part of the heroine which she may have forgotten (an quality which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the driving forces of the prior book, which saw Lyra undertake a picaresque trek across Europe and into the Caucasus, encountering with wonder and peril on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in motion, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the church's controlling power, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister incarnation of strict, administrative evil – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – Lyra's family member, who blames her for his family member's death – has positioned himself into the role of president of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his newfound authority to broaden the religion's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who carried young Lyra to safety along a flooded river as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in spycraft: he is assigned to the city to discover more about his aims. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the rare and costly rose oil which appears somehow to be the cause of a social and financial upheaval rippling out from Central Asia. The oil is regarded by various factions as a tradeable commodity, by alternate groups as a scientific or spiritual miracle, and by further factions – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a source of darkness; an affront that must be destroyed. The issue of its origins, what it stands for, and whether it should be destroyed or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
Similar to His Dark Materials, the heroine's actions, and her future, are demonstrated to be deeply linked with the destiny of the universe
In the previous volume, these narratives ran largely in side by side. In this final book, they converge. Like the original series, Lyra's movements and her path are unveiled to be deeply linked with the destiny of the world. Her private mission to rejoin with her daemon and regain her vision becomes the key conflict in a broader conflict with an oppressive system which, as these systems often attempt, is attempting to suppress independence of thought, creativity and culture: all the inner, defiant ways in which individuals can be free.
Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles
The story opens with the finding of a series of unusual fissures in the fabric of the world's sky: gateways that look to give on to different dimensions. One such portal seems to be the origin of the much debated rose oil. The church, with its leader at its helm, classifies these portals as a threat to the church's orthodoxy and sets out to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to move from inflexible logic and back to intuition, nevertheless, her belief that these places must be preserved – that their significance and their value is somehow vital – increases. "Dust, or the extract, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or whatever we label it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a poetic tussle between naivety and maturity is set.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
