Things are collapsing in the last installment of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that manifests, now more than ever, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Institutions are failing, or reassembling themselves along novel and troubling lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from states, and pooling in the offices of theocrats, the vaults of business empires, the hands of crowds. "An element is at work, silently, very subtly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an city cafe. "Things we thought were secure and strong are faltering and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that animates this final volume, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's last excursion into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting realm he first unveiled in the distant past, with the launch of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose geography corresponds to that of our world, but whose chronicles diverges and shifts with ours; where the individuals appear and think and behave like us, but are joined by external spirits, beings in beast form; where the skies are populated with witches and gryphons, but below, buses are ridden and drinks is drunk, and middle-aged professors carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the prequel, the origin story with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a adult: still clearly the prickly and determined heroine of the earlier books, but more mature, more sorrowful, more cautious, less certain. This restraint is amplified by her division from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
The daemon's resolve to leave in quest of that childlike part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an quality which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw the protagonist undertake a picaresque trek across Europe and into the Caucasus, meeting with amazement and risk on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the faith's controlling power, and the author's masterfully eerie representation of austere, procedural evil – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's uncle, who blames her for his family member's death – has positioned himself into the role of leader of the church's ruling assembly, and is set on using his newfound power to broaden the church's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued infant Lyra to security along a overflowing river as an child in La Belle Sauvage, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in intelligence work: he is assigned to Geneva to find out more about his intentions. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the rare and precious rose oil which appears in some way to be the cause of a social and financial disturbance spreading out from Central Asia. The substance is viewed by some as a commercial good, by different parties as a scientific or esoteric miracle, and by further factions – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a source of malevolence; an challenge that must be obliterated. The dilemma of where it comes from, its significance, and if it should be eliminated or protected is becoming urgent.
Similar to His Dark Materials, our protagonist's decisions, and her fate, are revealed to be inextricably linked with the destiny of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran largely in tandem. In this final book, they come together. As in the first trilogy, Lyra's movements and her path are revealed to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the world. Her personal journey to rejoin with her daemon and regain her creativity becomes the central battleground in a broader battle with an controlling system which, as such authorities always have, is attempting to suppress freedom of thinking, innovation and culture: all the personal, defiant ways in which people can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The novel opens with the finding of a collection of unusual fissures in the structure of the world's atmosphere: gateways that appear to lead to alternate realities. An example of a window appears to be the point of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its head, classifies these windows as a challenge to the institution's beliefs and aims to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to turn away from strict logic and revert to feeling, yet, her belief that these sites must be preserved – that their significance and what they provide is in some way crucial – strengthens. "The substance, or the substance, or the vision, or the field of roses, or whatever we call it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a Blakean tussle between innocence and experience is established.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
