Things are falling apart in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a world that appears, now more than ever, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Power is draining from states, and gathering in the chambers of religious leaders, the vaults of conglomerates, the control of mobs. "Some force is at work, stealthily, very subtly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his place in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and durable are deteriorating and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and Her Quest
Exactly what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that animates this final volume, which continues where its predecessor concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's last foray into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling universe he first revealed three decades past, with the launch of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose geography aligns with that of this world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the individuals appear and reason and act like us, but are joined by external spirits, souls in beast form; where the heavens are populated with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, vehicles are ridden and drinks is consumed, and older academics carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the first trilogy, and then revisited as a infant in the first volume, the introductory book with which the author began the series, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the sharp and tenacious protagonist of the earlier books, but more mature, more sorrowful, more careful, less certain. This limitation is amplified by her separation from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
His choice to depart in search of that innocent part of the heroine which she appears to have shed (an trait which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which followed Lyra undertake a wandering journey across Europe and into the Caucasus, meeting with wonder and peril on the way. But from the beginning, deeper currents were in motion, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the faith's ruling body, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister incarnation of strict, administrative wickedness – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – our protagonist's uncle, who faults her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of leader of the church's governing body, and is determined on using his fresh authority to broaden the church's rule. Another protagonist, who carried baby the heroine to security along a swollen river as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an Oxford don with a additional duty in espionage: he is dispatched to Geneva to find out more about the antagonist's aims. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the uncommon and costly rose oil which manifests mysteriously to be the origin of a social and financial crisis rippling out from that area. The substance is seen by various factions as a commercial product, by others as a empirical or spiritual wonder, and by yet others – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an affront that must be eradicated. The issue of its source, what it stands for, and whether it should be destroyed or protected is escalating in importance.
Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's actions, and her destiny, are revealed to be inseparably connected with the future of the world
In its predecessor, these narratives ran broadly in side by side. In this final book, they merge. Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's choices and her path are shown to be inseparably linked with the destiny of the realm. Her private quest to rejoin with her companion and recover her vision becomes the central battleground in a broader conflict with an oppressive regime which, as such authorities always have, is seeking to suppress autonomy of thought, innovation and expression: all the personal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Moral Battles
The book opens with the discovery of a set of strange openings in the structure of the world's air: windows that seem to open into alternate realities. One such opening seems to be the point of the highly contested rose oil. The authority, with Delamare at its leadership, classifies these portals as a problem to the institution's orthodoxy and sets out to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to move from strict rationalism and back to feeling, nevertheless, her certainty that these places must be preserved – that their meaning and what they provide is in some way crucial – increases. "Dust, or the extract, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or whatever we label it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a Blakean tussle between purity and experience is established.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
