Things are unraveling in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the second of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that manifests, now more than ever, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or restructuring themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Power is draining from governments, and pooling in the halls of theocrats, the vaults of corporations, the control of rioters. "Something is at work, very quietly, gradually", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his place in an city cafe. "Things we thought were firm and strong are weakening and collapsing."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that propels this final volume, which resumes where its predecessor left off. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final excursion into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting universe he first revealed in the distant past, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose terrain maps on to that of this world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and think and act like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, souls in creature form; where the skies are teeming with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, transports are ridden and drinks is consumed, and mature scholars carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a infant in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still distinctly the spiky and persistent protagonist of the prior volumes, but more mature, sadder, warier, less sure. This restraint is intensified by her separation from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
His choice to go off in quest of that childlike part of her which she seems to have lost (an quality which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which followed Lyra undertake a adventurous trek across the continent and into the mountain region, meeting with marvel and danger on the way. But from the start, underlying forces were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the faith's governing authority, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister representation of strict, procedural evil – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. The antagonist – the heroine's relative, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the office of leader of the authority's governing body, and is determined on using his recently acquired influence to extend the institution's rule. Another protagonist, who rescued young Lyra to security along a swollen Thames as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a sideline in spycraft: he is dispatched to a key location to learn more about his plans. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and costly botanical extract which manifests in some way to be the cause of a societal and financial disturbance spreading out from that area. The oil is regarded by certain groups as a tradeable commodity, by different parties as a empirical or mystical wonder, and by yet others – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a source of malevolence; an insult that must be eradicated. The dilemma of its origins, its meaning, and if it should be removed or protected is escalating in importance.
Similar to the first series, our protagonist's deeds, and her future, are shown to be deeply linked with the destiny of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran mostly in tandem. In this final book, they come together. As in the first trilogy, her movements and her path are revealed to be inextricably entwined with the future of the realm. Her individual journey to reconnect with her soul and rediscover her vision becomes the key struggle in a broader conflict with an oppressive regime which, as such authorities typically do, is striving to stifle autonomy of thinking, creativity and expression: all the inner, resistant ways in which individuals can be independent.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The story starts with the finding of a set of unusual openings in the makeup of the planet's air: gateways that seem to give on to alternate realities. An example of a opening seems to be the origin of the fiercely disputed mystical extract. The authority, with Delamare at its helm, designates these portals as a challenge to the religion's orthodoxy and endeavors to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to turn away from inflexible reason and revert to intuition, yet, her conviction that these sites must be preserved – that their meaning and what they offer is somehow crucial – increases. "The substance, or the extract, or the vision, or the field of roses, or whatever we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a philosophical struggle between naivety and experience is prepared.
Story Tempo and Personal Evolution
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
