Things are collapsing in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the second of the author's masterful trilogies set in a universe that appears, now more than ever, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is flowing away from states, and pooling in the chambers of theocrats, the coffers of conglomerates, the grasp of crowds. "An element is at work, very quietly, imperceptibly", says trader a trader character, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his seat in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and solid are faltering and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that propels the concluding book, which resumes where the previous book concluded. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's final foray into the elaborately built, deeply captivating world he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the launch of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose landscape aligns with that of the real world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the people appear and think and act like us, but are paired by daemons, souls in beast form; where the heavens are teeming with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, buses are ridden and beverages is sipped, and older scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the first trilogy, and then revisited as a baby in the prequel, the origin story with which Pullman began the series, is now a young woman: still clearly the prickly and tenacious protagonist of the previous installments, but more mature, sadder, warier, less sure. This limitation is heightened by her separation from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which made him desert her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
His choice to go off in quest of that childlike part of her which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he represents as her "creativity"), and her mission to reunite with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a adventurous journey across Europe and into the mountain region, meeting with amazement and danger on the way. But from the start, underlying forces were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the faith's ruling body, and Pullman's deliciously chilling representation of austere, bureaucratic malice – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's family member, who blames her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of head of the authority's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his recently acquired authority to extend the church's control. A key character, who saved young the heroine to security along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an Oxford don with a additional duty in espionage: he is sent to Geneva to learn more about his intentions. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and precious essential oil which manifests in some way to be the origin of a social and economic crisis spreading out from the region. The extract is regarded by certain groups as a commercial commodity, by different parties as a scientific or esoteric wonder, and by yet others – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a source of malevolence; an affront that must be eradicated. The issue of its source, its significance, and whether it should be destroyed or preserved is escalating in importance.
Like the first series, our protagonist's deeds, and her destiny, are revealed to be inseparably connected with the destiny of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran largely in side by side. In this final book, they converge. Similar to the first trilogy, Lyra's actions and her path are revealed to be inextricably woven with the future of the world. Her personal quest to reunite with her companion and rediscover her creativity becomes the primary struggle in a larger war with an authoritarian regime which, as these systems typically do, is attempting to quell independence of thinking, innovation and expression: all the personal, defiant ways in which humans can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The story opens with the discovery of a set of unusual fissures in the fabric of the Earth's atmosphere: windows that appear to give on to other worlds. A particular portal manifests to be the origin of the much debated botanical substance. The church, with the antagonist at its leadership, classifies these openings as a problem to the church's orthodoxy and sets out to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to turn away from inflexible rationalism and return to instinct, however, her certainty that these places must be defended – that what they stand for and their value is in some way crucial – increases. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or whatever we name it," she says, "we require it." The setting for a philosophical tussle between purity and maturity is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
