Tings are unraveling in the last installment of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that appears, here more than ever, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from states, and pooling in the offices of theocrats, the treasuries of business empires, the grasp of mobs. "Something is at work, stealthily, very subtly", says merchant a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the Silk Roads from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were firm and strong are weakening and failing."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that something might be, and ways to oppose it, is the question that propels the concluding book, which continues where its predecessor ended. This is, by all accounts, the author's final foray into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating world he first revealed in the distant past, with the publication of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose terrain aligns with that of our world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the people appear and think and act like us, but are joined by animal souls, souls in beast form; where the skies are teeming with witches and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, buses are ridden and beverages is sipped, and older academics carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in the prequel, the prequel with which Pullman began the series, is now a adult: still clearly the spiky and determined main character of the earlier books, but aged, sadder, warier, more doubtful. This restraint is amplified by her split from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to leave in search of that innocent part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he represents as her "creativity"), and her journey to reunite with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which saw Lyra undertake a picaresque voyage across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with wonder and danger on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in action, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the religious ruling body, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of strict, procedural evil – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – Lyra's relative, who blames her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of president of the authority's governing body, and is set on using his fresh power to expand the institution's rule. A key character, who saved young the heroine to security along a flooded Thames as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an university scholar with a sideline in espionage: he is dispatched to the city to learn more about Delamare's intentions. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the uncommon and precious essential oil which seems somehow to be the source of a societal and economic upheaval emanating out from Central Asia. The extract is seen by various factions as a tradeable product, by alternate groups as a empirical or esoteric wonder, and by yet others – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a wellspring of evil; an insult that must be obliterated. The question of its source, its significance, and if it should be removed or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
Similar to the original trilogy, Lyra's actions, and her destiny, are shown to be deeply linked with the future of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran mostly in parallel. In this final book, they merge. Similar to the original series, Lyra's actions and her destiny are shown to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the universe. Her individual quest to rejoin with her soul and rediscover her vision becomes the key struggle in a broader war with an oppressive government which, as these systems always have, is seeking to quell independence of thought, originality and art: all the personal, resistant ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The story starts with the finding of a set of unusual openings in the structure of the planet's sky: windows that appear to lead to alternate realities. One such opening appears to be the point of the much debated rose oil. The authority, with Delamare at its head, labels these portals as a problem to the religion's orthodoxy and endeavors to eradicate them. As our protagonist begins to move from rigid reason and back to instinct, yet, her conviction that these sites must be defended – that what they stand for and what they offer is somehow essential – strengthens. "Dust, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or whatever we label it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a poetic struggle between naivety and experience is set.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
