Tings are unraveling in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a realm that appears, in this volume especially, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Institutions are crumbling, or reorganizing themselves along new and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from authorities, and accumulating in the halls of religious leaders, the coffers of business empires, the control of crowds. "Some force is at work, very quietly, gradually", says trader a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an city cafe. "Things we thought were firm and durable are weakening and giving way."
The Central Mystery and Her Quest
Just what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the question that animates this final volume, which continues where its predecessor concluded. This is, according to many, the author's last foray into the elaborately built, deeply captivating world he first revealed three decades past, with the publication of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose geography aligns with that of the real world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the humans appear and think and act like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, beings in animal form; where the air are teeming with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but below, vehicles are caught and drinks is consumed, and middle-aged academics carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in the prequel, the introductory book with which the author began the series, is now a young woman: still clearly the spiky and persistent protagonist of the previous installments, but older, sadder, more cautious, less certain. This restraint is amplified by her separation from her animal guide, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
His choice to go off in quest of that innocent part of the heroine which she appears to have shed (an trait which he represents as her "creativity"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which chronicled Lyra undertake a wandering voyage across Europe and into the Caucasus, encountering with marvel and risk on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the religious controlling power, and Pullman's masterfully eerie embodiment of strict, bureaucratic evil – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – our protagonist's uncle, who holds responsible her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of leader of the church's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his fresh influence to expand the church's rule. A key character, who rescued infant Lyra to security along a swollen Thames as an young boy in the prequel, is now an academic with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is sent to Geneva to learn more about his plans. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and precious essential oil which appears mysteriously to be the cause of a societal and economic crisis rippling out from the region. The substance is seen by various factions as a commercial commodity, by different parties as a scientific or spiritual miracle, and by yet others – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a source of darkness; an affront that must be obliterated. The dilemma of its origins, its significance, and if it should be eliminated or protected is escalating in importance.
As in His Dark Materials, our protagonist's decisions, and her fate, are demonstrated to be deeply connected with the destiny of the world
In its predecessor, these narratives ran largely in parallel. In this final book, they come together. As in His Dark Materials, her movements and her path are revealed to be inextricably woven with the destiny of the world. Her personal journey to reconnect with her daemon and regain her creativity becomes the primary battleground in a wider conflict with an controlling system which, as these systems typically do, is seeking to suppress independence of thought, innovation and culture: all the personal, defiant ways in which people can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The story starts with the discovery of a set of unusual openings in the makeup of the Earth's sky: windows that look to lead to different dimensions. A particular portal appears to be the origin of the much debated rose oil. The authority, with the antagonist at its helm, designates these portals as a challenge to the church's beliefs and sets out to destroy them. As the heroine begins to shift from inflexible reason and revert to feeling, yet, her belief that these locations must be protected – that what they stand for and what they provide is mysteriously vital – increases. "The substance, or rose oil, or the vision, or the field of roses, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a philosophical tussle between purity and knowledge is established.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
