Things are falling apart in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the next of the author's grand trilogies set in a world that appears, now more than ever, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or restructuring themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from authorities, and accumulating in the offices of religious leaders, the treasuries of conglomerates, the control of rioters. "An element is at work, stealthily, very subtly", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and durable are deteriorating and failing."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that animates this final volume, which continues where the previous book ended. This is, according to many, the author's final excursion into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting universe he first revealed 30 years ago, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose terrain aligns with that of this world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the people appear and reason and act like us, but are accompanied by daemons, beings in creature form; where the heavens are populated with witches and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, buses are caught and beverages is consumed, and mature scholars carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in the prequel, the origin story with which Pullman began the series, is now a adult: still recognisably the sharp and persistent protagonist of the earlier books, but aged, sadder, more cautious, more doubtful. This restraint is heightened by her division from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
His choice to depart in quest of that childlike part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he represents as her "vision"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which saw Lyra undertake a wandering trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with wonder and risk on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the religious governing authority, and the author's brilliantly sinister embodiment of strict, bureaucratic evil – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's family member, who holds responsible her for his sibling's death – has positioned himself into the office of president of the Magisterium's governing body, and is determined on using his newfound authority to expand the religion's dominium. Another protagonist, who saved infant Lyra to safety along a swollen Thames as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an university scholar with a sideline in intelligence work: he is assigned to the city to learn more about Delamare's intentions. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and costly botanical extract which manifests somehow to be the origin of a social and financial upheaval spreading out from that area. The extract is regarded by some as a marketable good, by others as a scientific or mystical phenomenon, and by yet others – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a source of evil; an challenge that must be destroyed. The question of its origins, its meaning, and if it should be removed or preserved is escalating in importance.
As in the first series, Lyra's deeds, and her future, are shown to be deeply entwined with the future of the realm
In the previous volume, these storylines ran broadly in side by side. In this final book, they converge. Similar to His Dark Materials, the protagonist's actions and her destiny are unveiled to be deeply linked with the fate of the realm. Her personal quest to reunite with her companion and rediscover her vision becomes the key battleground in a wider war with an oppressive system which, as such authorities typically do, is striving to stifle freedom of reason, originality and art: all the inner, rebellious ways in which people can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Moral Battles
The story opens with the discovery of a series of curious openings in the fabric of the Earth's air: gateways that seem to lead to different dimensions. A particular portal manifests to be the origin of the highly contested botanical substance. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its helm, labels these windows as a challenge to the religion's orthodoxy and aims to destroy them. As Lyra begins to turn away from strict reason and revert to instinct, however, her belief that these locations must be defended – that their meaning and their value is somehow essential – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or whatever we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a Blakean conflict between innocence and experience is set.
Story Tempo and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
