Things are unraveling in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a universe that appears, in this volume especially, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Establishments are failing, or reassembling themselves along new and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from authorities, and gathering in the chambers of religious leaders, the treasuries of corporations, the control of crowds. "An element is at work, stealthily, very subtly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his post in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and durable are deteriorating and giving way."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Just what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the question that drives the concluding book, which picks up where the previous book ended. This is, according to many, Pullman's final foray into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling world he first revealed in the distant past, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a world whose geography corresponds to that of this world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals appear and reason and behave like us, but are paired by daemons, souls in animal form; where the air are teeming with witches and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, vehicles are taken and tea is sipped, and mature professors carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first encountered as a child in the first trilogy, and then saw again as a baby in La Belle Sauvage, the introductory book with which the author began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still distinctly the spiky and tenacious main character of the earlier books, but more mature, more sorrowful, more cautious, less sure. This limitation is intensified by her split from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
The daemon's resolve to leave in pursuit of that youthful part of the heroine which she may have forgotten (an quality which he epitomises as her "vision"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a wandering voyage across Europe and into the Caucasus, encountering with wonder and danger on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the church's controlling power, and the author's brilliantly sinister embodiment of rigid, procedural malice – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's uncle, who faults her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the office of leader of the church's High Council, and is determined on using his fresh power to extend the institution's rule. Another protagonist, who carried young the heroine to security along a swollen river as an child in the first book, is now an academic with a secondary role in spycraft: he is dispatched to a key location to find out more about the antagonist's plans. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and valuable essential oil which manifests in some way to be the origin of a societal and financial crisis emanating out from Central Asia. The oil is regarded by some as a tradeable commodity, by others as a scientific or mystical phenomenon, and by others still – the extremist "highland figures" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an affront that must be obliterated. The question of its source, its meaning, and whether it should be eliminated or protected is escalating in importance.
Similar to the first series, our protagonist's deeds, and her fate, are demonstrated to be inextricably linked with the fate of the universe
In the previous volume, these plots ran broadly in parallel. In this final book, they merge. Like the original series, Lyra's movements and her destiny are unveiled to be deeply entwined with the future of the universe. Her personal journey to rejoin with her daemon and recover her vision becomes the primary struggle in a wider battle with an oppressive government which, as these systems often attempt, is seeking to quell autonomy of reason, creativity and expression: all the inner, rebellious ways in which individuals can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The novel begins with the unveiling of a collection of unusual cracks in the structure of the planet's sky: windows that look to lead to different dimensions. An example of a opening appears to be the origin of the highly contested rose oil. The authority, with Delamare at its head, classifies these windows as a challenge to the religion's beliefs and aims to destroy them. As the heroine begins to shift from strict reason and return to feeling, nevertheless, her certainty that these locations must be preserved – that what they stand for and what they provide is mysteriously crucial – increases. "Dust, or the substance, or the vision, or the field of roses, or whatever we call it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a philosophical tussle between purity and experience is set.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
