Tings are falling apart in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the next of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a world that manifests, now more than ever, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and troubling lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Control is shifting from states, and pooling in the offices of religious leaders, the vaults of business empires, the hands of rioters. "An element is at work, stealthily, very subtly", says businessman a trader character, keeping a vigilant eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and durable are deteriorating and collapsing."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Exactly what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that animates this final volume, which continues where the previous book ended. This is, by all accounts, the author's concluding foray into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating realm he first revealed 30 years ago, with the launch of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose geography aligns with that of our world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans appear and reason and act like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, essences in beast form; where the heavens are populated with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, transports are ridden and beverages is drunk, and middle-aged scholars carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a child in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a baby in the first volume, the introductory book with which the author began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still clearly the spiky and determined protagonist of the prior volumes, but more mature, sadder, more careful, less sure. This limitation is intensified by her separation from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to leave in search of that childlike part of her which she may have forgotten (an quality which he represents as her "creativity"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of the prior book, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a adventurous trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with marvel and danger on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the religious controlling power, and Pullman's masterfully eerie representation of austere, bureaucratic evil – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's uncle, who blames her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the office of leader of the church's governing body, and is intent on using his recently acquired authority to broaden the institution's dominium. Another protagonist, who rescued young Lyra to refuge along a overflowing river as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an academic with a sideline in espionage: he is sent to the city to learn more about the antagonist's intentions. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and precious botanical extract which appears somehow to be the origin of a social and economic upheaval rippling out from the region. The substance is regarded by certain groups as a tradeable commodity, by different parties as a scientific or spiritual wonder, and by yet others – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of darkness; an challenge that must be eradicated. The issue of where it comes from, what it stands for, and whether it should be eliminated or protected is escalating in importance.
As in the first series, the heroine's deeds, and her future, are demonstrated to be inextricably entwined with the future of the realm
In its predecessor, these narratives ran largely in parallel. In this final book, they converge. As in the original series, the protagonist's actions and her path are revealed to be inseparably linked with the fate of the world. Her individual mission to reunite with her companion and regain her imagination becomes the primary battleground in a wider conflict with an oppressive system which, as such regimes often attempt, is attempting to stifle independence of thinking, innovation and expression: all the personal, rebellious ways in which people can be independent.
Dimensional Rifts and Ideological Conflicts
The book opens with the discovery of a series of strange fissures in the structure of the world's air: portals that seem to open into different dimensions. An example of a portal manifests to be the origin of the fiercely disputed mystical extract. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its head, classifies these portals as a challenge to the church's beliefs and endeavors to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to shift from strict reason and revert to feeling, nevertheless, her belief that these locations must be protected – that what they stand for and what they provide is mysteriously crucial – increases. "The substance, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or whatever we label it," she says, "we require it." The scene for a Blakean struggle between naivety and maturity is established.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
