Tings are falling apart in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a world that seems, in this volume especially, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or restructuring themselves along novel and troubling lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from governments, and accumulating in the halls of religious leaders, the treasuries of conglomerates, the grasp of mobs. "Some force is at work, silently, gradually", says businessman a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and solid are weakening and giving way."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that propels this final volume, which continues where the previous book left off. This is, according to many, the author's final excursion into the elaborately built, infinitely beguiling universe he first introduced in the distant past, with the launch of Northern Lights. It's a world whose geography corresponds to that of the real world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the individuals appear and reason and act like us, but are joined by animal souls, souls in creature form; where the heavens are populated with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but below, vehicles are taken and beverages is sipped, and middle-aged academics carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a child in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in La Belle Sauvage, the introductory book with which the author began the series, is now a young woman: still clearly the prickly and determined main character of the prior volumes, but older, sadder, more careful, more doubtful. This limitation is intensified by her separation from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the cause which led him to leave her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
His choice to go off in pursuit of that innocent part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an trait which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which followed Lyra undertake a adventurous voyage across Europe and into the Caucasus, facing with marvel and peril on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in action, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the church's controlling power, and the author's brilliantly sinister embodiment of strict, administrative malice – is under new leadership, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's relative, who faults her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the position of president of the authority's High Council, and is determined on using his newfound influence to extend the religion's dominium. Another protagonist, who rescued infant Lyra to refuge along a swollen river as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an Oxford don with a secondary role in intelligence work: he is sent to a key location to learn more about the antagonist's intentions. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and precious rose oil which seems mysteriously to be the origin of a societal and economic crisis emanating out from Central Asia. The extract is seen by various factions as a tradeable commodity, by different parties as a empirical or mystical wonder, and by yet others – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of darkness; an insult that must be eradicated. The question of where it comes from, its significance, and whether it should be removed or preserved is escalating in importance.
Like the original trilogy, our protagonist's actions, and her future, are demonstrated to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the world
In its predecessor, these storylines ran mostly in tandem. In this final book, they come together. Similar to His Dark Materials, the protagonist's choices and her destiny are unveiled to be inseparably woven with the fate of the universe. Her personal quest to reconnect with her companion and rediscover her vision becomes the key conflict in a larger conflict with an oppressive regime which, as such regimes typically do, is attempting to quell freedom of reason, originality and culture: all the inner, rebellious ways in which people can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The story starts with the unveiling of a series of strange cracks in the structure of the Earth's sky: windows that look to give on to alternate realities. One such opening manifests to be the point of the much debated mystical extract. The church, with Delamare at its helm, labels these windows as a challenge to the institution's doctrine and sets out to destroy them. As the heroine begins to move from rigid logic and back to instinct, nevertheless, her certainty that these sites must be preserved – that what they stand for and their value is mysteriously essential – strengthens. "The substance, or rose oil, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or whatever we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a philosophical struggle between purity and experience is established.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
