Tings are falling apart in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a world that appears, in this volume especially, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Organizations are crumbling, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and troubling lines. An invisible force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is draining from states, and accumulating in the halls of theocrats, the coffers of business empires, the grasp of mobs. "Something is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says trader a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his place in an city cafe. "Things we thought were firm and strong are deteriorating and giving way."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Exactly what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that animates this final volume, which continues where the previous book concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's concluding foray into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling realm he first unveiled in the distant past, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose landscape corresponds to that of the real world, but whose chronicles diverges and shifts with ours; where the people look and think and behave like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, beings in creature form; where the air are teeming with enchantresses and gryphons, but underneath, vehicles are caught and drinks is consumed, and older professors carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a child in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in the prequel, the introductory book with which the author began this trilogy, is now a adult: still distinctly the spiky and persistent protagonist of the previous installments, but more mature, sadder, more careful, less sure. This circumscription is amplified by her division from her soul companion, Pan – 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 symbolizes as her "creativity"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which followed the protagonist undertake a picaresque voyage across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with marvel and danger on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the faith's ruling body, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister embodiment of strict, procedural wickedness – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's family member, who blames her for his family member's death – has positioned himself into the position of president of the church's High Council, and is set on using his recently acquired influence to broaden the institution's control. Another protagonist, who carried infant the heroine to security along a swollen river as an child in the prequel, is now an academic with a additional duty in espionage: he is assigned to Geneva to find out more about Delamare's intentions. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and costly rose oil which manifests in some way to be the source of a societal and financial disturbance spreading out from Central Asia. The extract is seen by certain groups as a tradeable commodity, by different parties as a research-based or esoteric wonder, and by others still – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a source of evil; an challenge that must be eradicated. The dilemma of its source, what it stands for, and whether it should be removed or safeguarded is coming rapidly to the fore.
Like the original trilogy, the heroine's deeds, and her future, are demonstrated to be deeply connected with the fate of the world
In its predecessor, these plots ran largely in parallel. In the conclusion, they converge. Like His Dark Materials, Lyra's movements and her fate are unveiled to be inextricably entwined with the future of the universe. Her personal mission to reunite with her companion and regain her creativity becomes the central battleground in a broader battle with an oppressive regime which, as these systems typically do, is attempting to stifle independence of thinking, creativity and expression: all the internal, defiant ways in which humans can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The story begins with the finding of a collection of strange fissures in the fabric of the world's air: portals that look to open into other worlds. One such opening manifests to be the point of the highly contested rose oil. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its leadership, labels these openings as a threat to the institution's doctrine and sets out to destroy them. As our protagonist begins to shift from strict reason and return to instinct, yet, her certainty that these places must be defended – that their meaning and their value is in some way vital – grows. "The substance, or the extract, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a Blakean tussle between purity and experience is set.
Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
