Tings are collapsing in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the next of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a world that manifests, here more than ever, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Establishments are failing, or restructuring themselves along new and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from authorities, and accumulating in the offices of theocrats, the coffers of corporations, the grasp of mobs. "An element is at work, silently, gradually", says trader a trader character, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and solid are faltering and failing."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that drives the concluding book, which picks up where its predecessor left off. This is, reportedly, Pullman's last venture into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating realm he first unveiled three decades past, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose geography corresponds to that of this world, but whose past diverges and shifts with ours; where the humans appear and reason and act like us, but are joined by external spirits, beings in animal form; where the skies are teeming with witches and mythical beasts, but underneath, buses are ridden and tea is drunk, and middle-aged scholars carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first encountered 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 The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still distinctly the spiky and persistent main character of the prior volumes, but aged, melancholic, warier, more doubtful. This restraint is heightened by her split from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which made him desert her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
The daemon's resolve to depart in pursuit of that childlike part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an quality which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which followed the protagonist undertake a wandering voyage across Europe and into the Caucasus, encountering with wonder and peril on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in action, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the religious controlling power, and the author's deliciously chilling incarnation of austere, administrative malice – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – Lyra's uncle, who faults her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the position of leader of the church's High Council, and is intent on using his fresh influence to expand the institution's dominium. A key character, who carried baby Lyra to safety along a flooded Thames as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an university scholar with a sideline in intelligence work: he is sent to the city to find out more about his intentions. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the rare and valuable essential oil which manifests in some way to be the cause of a societal and financial upheaval spreading out from Central Asia. The extract is viewed by various factions as a marketable good, by different parties as a research-based or mystical phenomenon, and by yet others – 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 eliminated or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.
Similar to the first series, Lyra's decisions, and her destiny, are revealed to be inseparably entwined with the fate of the world
In the previous volume, these narratives ran largely in parallel. In this final book, they merge. Like His Dark Materials, the protagonist's actions and her fate are revealed to be inextricably woven with the destiny of the realm. Her personal mission to reconnect with her companion and recover her vision becomes the primary conflict in a broader battle with an authoritarian system which, as such authorities typically do, is attempting to stifle freedom of thought, originality and culture: all the internal, rebellious ways in which humans can be independent.
Cosmic Openings and Moral Battles
The novel begins with the finding of a series of curious cracks in the makeup of the planet's sky: gateways that appear to lead to alternate realities. One such opening seems to be the point of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The authority, with its leader at its helm, designates these windows as a challenge to the church's beliefs and endeavors to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to turn away from rigid logic and return to intuition, nevertheless, her conviction that these locations must be defended – that their meaning and their value is in some way vital – grows. "The substance, or the extract, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or whatever we name it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a philosophical tussle between naivety and experience is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
