Tings are collapsing in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a world that appears, now more than ever, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Institutions are failing, or restructuring themselves along new and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Control is shifting from governments, and accumulating in the chambers of theocrats, the coffers of conglomerates, the control of rioters. "Something is at work, very quietly, imperceptibly", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and durable are deteriorating and collapsing."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Just what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that propels this final volume, which picks up where the previous book left off. This is, according to many, Pullman's final venture into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting world he first unveiled in the distant past, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose geography maps on to that of this world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the individuals look and think and act like us, but are paired by external spirits, essences in creature form; where the air are filled with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, transports are taken and tea is consumed, and mature scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in the prequel, the origin story with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the prickly and determined main character of the earlier books, but aged, melancholic, more careful, more doubtful. This circumscription is heightened by her separation from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the cause which led him to leave her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
His choice to go off in search of that youthful part of her which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he represents as her "imagination"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which saw Lyra undertake a picaresque journey across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with wonder and danger on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the religious controlling power, and the author's masterfully eerie embodiment of strict, bureaucratic evil – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. The antagonist – our protagonist's relative, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the office of head of the church's High Council, and is determined on using his newfound power to extend the church's control. A key character, who saved baby the heroine to security along a flooded Thames as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is assigned to a key location to learn more about the antagonist's plans. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and valuable rose oil which manifests in some way to be the source of a social and economic crisis emanating out from the region. The substance is seen by some as a marketable commodity, by others as a scientific or mystical wonder, and by yet others – the extremist "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of malevolence; an challenge that must be destroyed. The issue of its origins, its significance, and whether it should be destroyed or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.
Similar to the original trilogy, Lyra's decisions, and her destiny, are shown to be deeply linked with the destiny of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran broadly in tandem. In this final book, they converge. As in the original series, the protagonist's movements and her fate are revealed to be inextricably entwined with the fate of the world. Her personal journey to reconnect with her daemon and recover her vision becomes the key conflict in a larger war with an authoritarian system which, as such regimes often attempt, is attempting to suppress freedom of reason, creativity and culture: all the personal, defiant ways in which individuals can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The book opens with the finding of a collection of curious cracks in the fabric of the world's air: portals that look to open into different dimensions. An example of a portal appears to be the source of the much debated rose oil. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its leadership, designates these portals as a threat to the institution's doctrine and endeavors to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to shift from inflexible reason and back to instinct, yet, her conviction that these locations must be defended – that their significance and what they provide is mysteriously vital – grows. "Dust, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or whatever we name it," she says, "we require it." The setting for a philosophical conflict between purity and maturity is established.
Story Tempo and Personal Evolution
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
