Things are unraveling in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a world that seems, here more than ever, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or reassembling themselves along novel and troubling lines. An hidden force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from governments, and accumulating in the chambers of religious leaders, the coffers of corporations, the grasp of rioters. "Something is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his post in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and strong are weakening and giving way."
Key Puzzle and Her Quest
Precisely what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that drives the concluding book, which continues where the previous book ended. This is, according to many, Pullman's final venture into the elaborately built, endlessly enchanting universe he first introduced three decades past, with the launch of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose landscape maps on to that of the real world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the individuals look and think and act like us, but are accompanied by daemons, souls in beast form; where the air are filled with witches and legendary creatures, but underneath, vehicles are taken and beverages is drunk, and older scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the prequel, the introductory book with which Pullman began the series, is now a adult: still recognisably the sharp and tenacious protagonist of the prior volumes, but older, sadder, more careful, less certain. This circumscription is amplified by her separation from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to go off in quest of that innocent part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a picaresque trek across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with amazement and peril on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the religious ruling body, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister embodiment of strict, administrative evil – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. The antagonist – the heroine's family member, who faults her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of leader of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his newfound authority to extend the religion's control. Malcolm Polstead, who saved baby Lyra to security along a overflowing river as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in espionage: he is sent to the city to find out more about his plans. And beneath all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and valuable essential oil which seems mysteriously to be the origin of a social and financial crisis spreading out from that area. The substance is regarded by certain groups as a tradeable product, by alternate groups as a research-based or esoteric wonder, and by others still – the extremist "highland figures" – as a source of malevolence; an insult that must be eradicated. The dilemma of its source, its significance, and whether it should be removed or preserved is escalating in importance.
As in the first series, the heroine's decisions, and her future, are shown to be deeply entwined with the future of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran broadly in side by side. In this final book, they merge. Like His Dark Materials, Lyra's actions and her destiny are shown to be inextricably entwined with the future of the universe. Her personal mission to reunite with her companion and recover her creativity becomes the primary struggle in a broader conflict with an controlling system which, as such authorities often attempt, is attempting to stifle autonomy of thought, creativity and culture: all the inner, rebellious ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The book opens with the unveiling of a set of unusual fissures in the structure of the world's atmosphere: portals that look to give on to other worlds. One such window seems to be the source of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The authority, with its leader at its helm, designates these portals as a threat to the religion's doctrine and endeavors to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to shift from strict reason and revert to intuition, however, her conviction that these places must be defended – that their meaning and what they provide is mysteriously vital – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a philosophical conflict between purity and knowledge is established.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
