Tings are falling apart in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that manifests, now more than ever, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or restructuring themselves along new and troubling lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from states, and accumulating in the chambers of theocrats, the treasuries of corporations, the hands of mobs. "Something is at work, silently, very subtly", says merchant a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and durable are deteriorating and giving way."
Core Enigma and The Protagonist's Path
Exactly what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that propels this final volume, which continues where the previous book concluded. This is, according to many, Pullman's concluding excursion into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting realm he first introduced 30 years ago, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a world whose geography aligns with that of our world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the individuals look and think and behave like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, beings in beast form; where the skies are populated with witches and legendary creatures, but below, transports are caught and drinks is drunk, and mature scholars carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a baby in the prequel, the prequel with which the author began the series, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the prickly and determined main character of the prior volumes, but older, more sorrowful, warier, less sure. This circumscription is heightened by her division from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, ironically, the cause which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
The daemon's resolve to go off in quest of that innocent part of the heroine which she may have forgotten (an quality which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed the protagonist undertake a wandering trek across the continent and into the mountain region, meeting with amazement and danger on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in action, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the religious ruling body, and Pullman's deliciously chilling incarnation of rigid, administrative wickedness – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's relative, who blames her for his sibling's death – has worked himself into the role of head of the Magisterium's governing body, and is intent on using his newfound authority to expand the church's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued baby the heroine to refuge along a swollen Thames as an child in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is sent to Geneva to find out more about his aims. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and valuable rose oil which manifests somehow to be the source of a societal and economic upheaval emanating out from Central Asia. The extract is seen by certain groups as a tradeable product, by others as a research-based or spiritual wonder, and by further factions – the extremist "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of malevolence; an affront that must be eradicated. The dilemma of where it comes from, what it stands for, and if it should be eliminated or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.
Like the original trilogy, Lyra's deeds, and her fate, are demonstrated to be deeply connected with the fate of the universe
In its predecessor, these storylines ran mostly in side by side. In the conclusion, they come together. Similar to His Dark Materials, her movements and her fate are unveiled to be inseparably linked with the future of the realm. Her private quest to reunite with her companion and rediscover her vision becomes the key conflict in a larger battle with an controlling system which, as such regimes often attempt, is attempting to quell autonomy of thought, creativity and expression: all the personal, defiant ways in which humans can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The book begins with the discovery of a series of curious fissures in the structure of the planet's atmosphere: portals that appear to lead to different dimensions. An example of a opening appears to be the point of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The authority, with its leader at its helm, classifies these openings as a challenge to the church's orthodoxy and endeavors to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to turn away from strict reason and return to instinct, yet, her conviction that these places must be defended – that their significance and their value is mysteriously crucial – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or whatever we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a philosophical tussle between purity and experience is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
