Tings are unraveling in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a world that seems, in this volume especially, as a charged and slanted version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and troubling lines. An unseen force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from states, and accumulating in the offices of theocrats, the coffers of corporations, the grasp of crowds. "Something is at work, very quietly, imperceptibly", says businessman a merchant figure, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his place in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and solid are deteriorating and failing."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Precisely what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the question that animates this final volume, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth concluded. This is, by all accounts, the author's concluding venture into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting world he first revealed in the distant past, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose terrain maps on to that of this world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans appear and think and behave like us, but are paired by animal souls, souls in creature form; where the skies are filled with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but below, vehicles are caught and beverages is drunk, and older scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in La Belle Sauvage, the introductory book with which the author began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still recognisably the prickly and tenacious protagonist of the previous installments, but aged, more sorrowful, more careful, more doubtful. This limitation is amplified by her split from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to go off in search of that innocent part of the heroine which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he represents as her "imagination"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which saw the protagonist undertake a adventurous trek across Europe and into the Caucasus, meeting with marvel and peril on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in action, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the religious governing authority, and the author's masterfully eerie incarnation of strict, administrative malice – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's relative, who faults her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of president of the Magisterium's governing body, and is set on using his newfound authority to extend the institution's control. A key character, who rescued infant the heroine to safety along a swollen Thames as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an university scholar with a sideline in spycraft: he is assigned to the city to discover more about Delamare's aims. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and valuable essential oil which seems somehow to be the source of a societal and economic disturbance spreading out from that area. The oil is regarded by certain groups as a tradeable commodity, by others as a scientific or esoteric phenomenon, and by yet others – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a wellspring of darkness; an challenge that must be destroyed. The question of its origins, what it stands for, and if it should be eliminated or safeguarded is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in the original trilogy, the heroine's decisions, and her fate, are revealed to be inseparably connected with the future of the realm
In the previous volume, these storylines ran broadly in tandem. In the conclusion, they converge. Like His Dark Materials, the protagonist's actions and her fate are shown to be inseparably entwined with the fate of the realm. Her individual journey to reconnect with her daemon and rediscover her vision becomes the central battleground in a wider battle with an controlling system which, as these systems typically do, is seeking to quell autonomy of thought, originality and art: all the inner, defiant ways in which people can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Moral Battles
The novel starts with the unveiling of a collection of unusual openings in the structure of the Earth's sky: portals that look to open into other worlds. One such window manifests to be the origin of the highly contested botanical substance. The Magisterium, with its leader at its head, classifies these openings as a challenge to the institution's beliefs and aims to destroy them. As the heroine begins to shift from inflexible reason and revert to instinct, however, her belief that these places must be protected – that their significance and what they offer is in some way essential – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or whatever we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a philosophical conflict between innocence and maturity is prepared.
Story Tempo and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
