Things are unraveling in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a world that manifests, here more than ever, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Organizations are crumbling, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and troubling lines. An unseen 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 halls of religious leaders, the vaults of business empires, the grasp of rioters. "Something is at work, stealthily, gradually", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his post in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and strong are deteriorating and collapsing."
Core Enigma and The Protagonist's Path
Exactly what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that animates the concluding book, which picks up where the previous book ended. This is, reportedly, Pullman's last excursion into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating universe he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the launch of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose landscape maps on to that of the real world, but whose chronicles diverges and shifts with ours; where the humans appear and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by daemons, beings in beast form; where the air are populated with enchantresses and gryphons, but underneath, vehicles are taken and beverages is consumed, and middle-aged professors carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then revisited as a baby in the first volume, the prequel with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still clearly the prickly and tenacious heroine of the prior volumes, but aged, sadder, warier, less sure. This restraint is amplified by her split from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the cause which made him desert her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to go off in search of that youthful part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he represents as her "vision"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a picaresque trek across Europe and into the Caucasus, encountering with wonder and danger on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the religious ruling body, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister embodiment of strict, administrative wickedness – is under new leadership, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's relative, who faults her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of leader of the Magisterium's governing body, and is set on using his fresh influence to expand the church's rule. A key character, who carried infant the heroine to refuge along a flooded river as an child in La Belle Sauvage, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in espionage: he is dispatched to a key location to discover more about the antagonist's plans. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and precious essential oil which seems mysteriously to be the source of a societal and financial upheaval spreading out from Central Asia. The extract is viewed by some as a tradeable good, by different parties as a research-based or mystical wonder, and by others still – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a origin of malevolence; an insult that must be obliterated. The dilemma of its origins, its significance, and if it should be destroyed or protected is coming rapidly to the fore.
Like the original trilogy, our protagonist's deeds, and her future, are demonstrated to be inseparably connected with the future of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran largely in side by side. In this final book, they come together. Like His Dark Materials, her movements and her destiny are shown to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the universe. Her private mission to reunite with her soul and recover her vision becomes the primary battleground in a broader conflict with an controlling regime which, as these systems always have, is seeking to stifle autonomy of reason, innovation and art: all the personal, defiant ways in which humans can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Moral Battles
The book starts with the unveiling of a set of curious cracks in the makeup of the Earth's air: portals that appear to lead to different dimensions. One such opening manifests to be the origin of the highly contested botanical substance. The authority, with Delamare at its leadership, labels these openings as a challenge to the institution's doctrine and endeavors to destroy them. As the heroine begins to turn away from rigid logic and return to feeling, yet, her conviction that these locations must be protected – that what they stand for and what they provide is mysteriously vital – increases. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a philosophical tussle between naivety and maturity is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
