Tings are collapsing in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a world that manifests, now more than ever, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and troubling lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from authorities, and pooling in the halls of religious leaders, the coffers of conglomerates, the grasp of rioters. "Something is at work, silently, very subtly", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the Silk Roads from his place in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and solid are weakening and collapsing."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the question that propels the concluding book, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, according to many, the author's last venture into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting universe he first revealed in the distant past, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose terrain corresponds to that of this world, but whose chronicles diverges and shifts with ours; where the people look and reason and act like us, but are paired by external spirits, souls in animal form; where the skies are teeming with witches and mythical beasts, but underneath, buses are taken and tea is sipped, and older academics carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the prequel, the origin story with which the author began the series, is now a adult: still clearly the prickly and persistent protagonist of the previous installments, but more mature, sadder, more careful, less certain. This limitation is intensified by her division from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to go off in pursuit of that youthful part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an quality which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which followed Lyra undertake a picaresque trek across Europe and into the Caucasus, facing with amazement and danger on the way. But from the start, underlying forces were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the religious ruling body, and the author's brilliantly sinister representation of rigid, administrative evil – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's relative, who blames her for his family member's death – has positioned himself into the role of president of the church's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his fresh authority to expand the church's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued baby Lyra to safety along a flooded Thames as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a sideline in espionage: he is assigned to a key location to learn more about Delamare's plans. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and valuable rose oil which manifests mysteriously to be the origin of a societal and financial crisis rippling out from that area. The substance is viewed by certain groups as a marketable good, by different parties as a research-based or esoteric wonder, and by others still – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of darkness; an insult that must be destroyed. The dilemma of where it comes from, its significance, and whether it should be eliminated or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
As in the original trilogy, our protagonist's deeds, and her destiny, are shown to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the realm
In its predecessor, these storylines ran largely in side by side. In this final book, they merge. Similar to the original series, the protagonist's movements and her destiny are revealed to be inextricably linked with the fate of the universe. Her individual journey to reconnect with her daemon and rediscover her imagination becomes the primary struggle in a larger conflict with an authoritarian system which, as such authorities typically do, is attempting to suppress independence of thinking, innovation and culture: all the personal, defiant ways in which people can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Moral Battles
The story starts with the finding of a set of unusual fissures in the fabric of the planet's atmosphere: gateways that seem to lead to alternate realities. An example of a portal seems to be the point of the fiercely disputed mystical extract. The church, with Delamare at its leadership, designates these portals as a challenge to the religion's beliefs and sets out to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to shift from strict rationalism and revert to feeling, nevertheless, her conviction that these locations must be preserved – that their significance and their value is in some way crucial – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the vision, or the field of roses, or whatever we name it," she says, "we require it." The setting for a Blakean struggle between naivety and experience is set.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
