Things are collapsing in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the next of the author's masterful trilogies set in a realm that seems, in this volume especially, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Establishments are failing, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and troubling lines. An unseen force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Control is draining from authorities, and accumulating in the chambers of theocrats, the treasuries of business empires, the control of mobs. "Some force is at work, very quietly, gradually", says businessman a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and strong are faltering and failing."
Core Enigma and The Protagonist's Path
Just what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that drives the concluding book, which resumes where its predecessor concluded. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's last excursion into the elaborately built, deeply captivating world he first unveiled in the distant past, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a world whose geography corresponds to that of the real world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals appear and think and behave like us, but are joined by animal souls, essences in animal form; where the skies are teeming with enchantresses and gryphons, but underneath, buses are caught and drinks is consumed, and mature scholars carry luxury shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in the first volume, the prequel with which Pullman began the series, is now a young woman: still recognisably the spiky and tenacious protagonist of the previous installments, but aged, melancholic, warier, less certain. This restraint is heightened by her division from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
The daemon's resolve to go off in search of that childlike part of the heroine which she may have forgotten (an trait which he represents as her "imagination"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed Lyra undertake a picaresque voyage across the continent and into the Caucasus, facing with wonder and peril on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in action, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the religious governing authority, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister representation of austere, administrative evil – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – Lyra's uncle, who blames her for his sibling's death – has worked himself into the position of president of the church's governing body, and is intent on using his recently acquired power to broaden the religion's rule. A key character, who saved baby Lyra to safety along a flooded river as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an academic with a additional duty in spycraft: he is dispatched to the city to learn more about the antagonist's plans. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and costly essential oil which seems in some way to be the cause of a societal and economic crisis emanating out from that area. The oil is seen by certain groups as a tradeable good, by alternate groups as a empirical or mystical miracle, and by yet others – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a source of darkness; an affront that must be obliterated. The question of where it comes from, its significance, and if it should be destroyed or safeguarded is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in the first series, the heroine's deeds, and her future, are revealed to be deeply linked with the future of the world
In the previous volume, these plots ran mostly in parallel. In this final book, they come together. Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's movements and her destiny are revealed to be deeply woven with the future of the universe. Her personal quest to reunite with her companion and recover her imagination becomes the central conflict in a larger war with an controlling system which, as these systems often attempt, is striving to stifle independence of reason, innovation and culture: all the personal, defiant ways in which people can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The book opens with the finding of a series of curious cracks in the structure of the planet's air: windows that seem to lead to other worlds. An example of a opening seems to be the point of the highly contested botanical substance. The Magisterium, with its leader at its helm, labels these portals as a problem to the religion's orthodoxy and sets out to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to move from inflexible rationalism and revert to intuition, nevertheless, her belief that these locations must be defended – that what they stand for and their value is mysteriously vital – grows. "The substance, or the substance, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or whatever we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a Blakean tussle between innocence and maturity is set.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
