Things are unraveling in the last installment of The Book of Dust, the next of the author's grand trilogies set in a realm that seems, now more than ever, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Institutions are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along new and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from authorities, and pooling in the offices of theocrats, the vaults of business empires, the grasp of mobs. "Something is at work, stealthily, very subtly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and durable are weakening and giving way."
Core Enigma and The Protagonist's Path
Exactly what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that propels the concluding book, which resumes where its predecessor concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's concluding venture into the elaborately built, deeply captivating world he first revealed three decades past, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose geography aligns with that of the real world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals appear and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by daemons, essences in creature form; where the skies are teeming with enchantresses and gryphons, but underneath, transports are caught and drinks is sipped, and older scholars carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a infant in La Belle Sauvage, the introductory book with which the author began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still clearly the sharp and persistent protagonist of the prior volumes, but older, melancholic, warier, less certain. This circumscription is heightened by her separation from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
His choice to depart in quest of that youthful part of the heroine which she may have forgotten (an trait which he symbolizes as her "creativity"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw Lyra undertake a picaresque voyage across Europe and into the Caucasus, facing with marvel and danger on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the religious ruling body, and Pullman's masterfully eerie representation of strict, procedural wickedness – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's family member, who blames her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of president of the church's ruling assembly, and is set on using his newfound power to expand the church's control. A key character, who rescued infant the heroine to safety along a overflowing river as an young boy in the prequel, is now an academic with a additional duty in spycraft: he is dispatched to the city to discover more about his plans. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and precious essential oil which seems somehow to be the source of a societal and financial crisis spreading out from the region. The extract is regarded by various factions as a tradeable commodity, by others as a scientific or spiritual phenomenon, and by further factions – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a wellspring of evil; an affront that must be destroyed. The question of its origins, its significance, and if it should be removed or safeguarded is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in His Dark Materials, the heroine's actions, and her fate, are shown to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the universe
In its predecessor, these plots ran broadly in parallel. In this final book, they converge. Similar to the original series, Lyra's actions and her path are unveiled to be deeply woven with the fate of the world. Her individual journey to reconnect with her companion and recover her imagination becomes the primary battleground in a broader conflict with an authoritarian system which, as such authorities often attempt, is seeking to quell autonomy of thinking, originality and expression: all the internal, defiant ways in which humans can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Ideological Conflicts
The novel opens with the discovery of a collection of unusual fissures in the makeup of the Earth's sky: windows that look to open into alternate realities. A particular opening seems to be the source of the much debated rose oil. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its leadership, designates these portals as a challenge to the institution's beliefs and sets out to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to move from strict reason and return to feeling, however, her belief that these locations must be defended – that their meaning and what they offer is somehow vital – grows. "The substance, or the extract, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or whatever we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a philosophical struggle between innocence and experience is established.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
