Things are unraveling in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that manifests, now more than ever, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Establishments are failing, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from governments, and pooling in the chambers of theocrats, the vaults of conglomerates, the control of crowds. "Something is at work, silently, very subtly", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and solid are weakening and failing."
Key Puzzle and Her Quest
Precisely what that something might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that drives the concluding book, which continues where its predecessor ended. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final venture into the elaborately built, endlessly enchanting realm he first introduced in the distant past, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a world whose landscape aligns with that of our world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the people look and think and behave like us, but are joined by external spirits, beings in creature form; where the heavens are teeming with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, buses are taken and tea is consumed, and older academics carry fancy shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first encountered as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a baby in the prequel, the introductory book with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still clearly the prickly and determined protagonist of the prior volumes, but aged, melancholic, more cautious, less certain. This restraint is intensified by her division from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
The daemon's resolve to go off in pursuit of that innocent part of the heroine which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed the protagonist undertake a wandering trek across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with amazement and risk on the way. But from the beginning, deeper currents were in play, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the religious ruling body, and the author's brilliantly sinister incarnation of rigid, bureaucratic evil – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's family member, who blames her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the office of president of the Magisterium's High Council, and is determined on using his fresh influence to extend the institution's rule. Another protagonist, who carried young Lyra to refuge along a overflowing Thames as an child in the first book, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in espionage: he is sent to a key location to learn more about the antagonist's intentions. And beneath all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and precious botanical extract which appears in some way to be the origin of a societal and economic crisis rippling out from that area. The substance is seen by some as a commercial product, by alternate groups as a research-based or spiritual wonder, and by yet others – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a origin of darkness; an affront that must be obliterated. The question of its origins, its significance, and whether it should be removed or preserved is escalating in importance.
Similar to His Dark Materials, our protagonist's actions, and her destiny, are revealed to be deeply linked with the destiny of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran mostly in parallel. In this final book, they converge. As in the original series, her actions and her fate are shown to be deeply linked with the destiny of the universe. Her individual quest to rejoin with her daemon and rediscover her vision becomes the key conflict in a larger war with an oppressive government which, as such regimes often attempt, is seeking to suppress independence of reason, innovation and culture: all the internal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Moral Battles
The story opens with the unveiling of a set of unusual openings in the makeup of the Earth's air: portals that appear to give on to different dimensions. One such portal seems to be the source of the much debated botanical substance. The church, with Delamare at its helm, labels these windows as a challenge to the church's doctrine and aims to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to move from rigid rationalism and back to intuition, however, her belief that these locations must be preserved – that their significance and their value is somehow essential – strengthens. "Dust, or the extract, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a Blakean tussle between naivety and maturity is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
