Things are unraveling in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a universe that appears, here more than ever, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from authorities, and gathering in the chambers of religious leaders, the treasuries of conglomerates, the grasp of mobs. "An element is at work, silently, gradually", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the Silk Roads from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and strong are deteriorating and giving way."
The Central Mystery and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the question that animates the concluding book, which continues where its predecessor left off. This is, reportedly, Pullman's last venture into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling world he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a world whose geography aligns with that of our world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the people look and reason and behave like us, but are joined by external spirits, beings in creature form; where the air are teeming with witches and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, transports are ridden and tea is consumed, and middle-aged scholars carry fancy shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a child in the first trilogy, and then revisited as a baby in La Belle Sauvage, the origin story with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still distinctly the sharp and persistent main character of the previous installments, but aged, melancholic, more careful, less sure. This limitation is intensified by her division from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the cause which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
His choice to leave in quest of that childlike part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which saw Lyra undertake a picaresque voyage across Europe and into the mountain region, encountering with marvel and danger on the way. But from the start, underlying forces were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the church's governing authority, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister incarnation of strict, bureaucratic wickedness – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's uncle, who faults her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of president of the Magisterium's governing body, and is set on using his newfound influence to broaden the religion's control. Another protagonist, who rescued baby Lyra to safety along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a sideline in espionage: he is assigned to a key location to find out more about Delamare's plans. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the rare and precious essential oil which manifests in some way to be the origin of a social and financial crisis rippling out from the region. The oil is seen by some as a tradeable commodity, by different parties as a empirical or esoteric miracle, and by others still – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a origin of malevolence; an challenge that must be eradicated. The issue of where it comes from, its significance, and whether it should be destroyed or protected is escalating in importance.
As in His Dark Materials, Lyra's deeds, and her fate, are shown to be deeply connected with the fate of the realm
In the previous volume, these storylines ran broadly in tandem. In this final book, they converge. Like the original series, Lyra's actions and her destiny are revealed to be inseparably linked with the fate of the world. Her personal journey to rejoin with her soul and rediscover her vision becomes the primary struggle in a wider conflict with an authoritarian system which, as such regimes typically do, is attempting to quell independence of thought, originality and art: all the inner, rebellious ways in which people can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Moral Battles
The book begins with the unveiling of a set of strange fissures in the structure of the Earth's sky: portals that look to open into alternate realities. One such portal appears to be the origin of the highly contested rose oil. The Magisterium, with its leader at its leadership, designates these windows as a threat to the religion's beliefs and endeavors to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to shift from rigid logic and revert to feeling, however, her conviction that these locations must be protected – that their meaning and their value is mysteriously vital – grows. "The substance, or the extract, or the imagination, or the field of roses, or whatever we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a Blakean conflict between innocence and experience is established.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
