Tings are falling apart in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the next of the author's masterful trilogies set in a universe that seems, here more than ever, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Establishments are failing, or reassembling themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from authorities, and pooling in the chambers of theocrats, the treasuries of conglomerates, the grasp of rioters. "An element is at work, very quietly, imperceptibly", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and strong are deteriorating and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Exactly what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that propels the concluding book, which continues where its predecessor left off. This is, according to many, Pullman's last venture into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating universe he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the publication of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose terrain maps on to that of this world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans appear and think and behave like us, but are accompanied by daemons, beings in creature form; where the skies are teeming with sorceresses and gryphons, but below, buses are caught and drinks is consumed, and middle-aged academics carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in the first volume, the introductory book with which the author began the series, is now a mature individual: still distinctly the prickly and persistent main character of the previous installments, but aged, sadder, more careful, less sure. This circumscription is intensified by her division from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
The daemon's resolve to leave in search of that innocent part of the heroine which she appears to have shed (an quality which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which followed the protagonist undertake a adventurous voyage across the continent and into the Caucasus, meeting with marvel and risk on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the religious controlling power, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of austere, procedural malice – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – Lyra's relative, who blames her for his sibling's death – has positioned himself into the role of leader of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his fresh authority to expand the institution's rule. A key character, who carried baby Lyra to safety along a swollen river as an child in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a sideline in intelligence work: he is assigned to a key location to discover more about Delamare's plans. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and valuable rose oil which manifests mysteriously to be the cause of a social and economic crisis rippling out from Central Asia. The extract is viewed by some as a tradeable product, by alternate groups as a empirical or mystical wonder, and by yet others – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a source of evil; an challenge that must be obliterated. The question of its origins, its meaning, and whether it should be destroyed or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in the first series, our protagonist's deeds, and her destiny, are shown to be inseparably connected with the fate of the universe
In the previous volume, these storylines ran broadly in parallel. In the conclusion, they come together. As in the first trilogy, the protagonist's movements and her fate are revealed to be inextricably entwined with the fate of the world. Her private quest to reunite with her daemon and regain her imagination becomes the primary struggle in a larger war with an controlling system which, as such regimes often attempt, is striving to quell freedom of thinking, innovation and culture: all the personal, resistant ways in which people can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The novel opens with the discovery of a series of curious openings in the fabric of the planet's sky: gateways that appear to give on to different dimensions. An example of a portal appears to be the origin of the fiercely disputed mystical extract. The authority, with the antagonist at its leadership, classifies these portals as a problem to the institution's orthodoxy and sets out to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to move from strict reason and return to instinct, however, her belief that these places must be preserved – that their significance and what they provide is in some way vital – grows. "Dust, or the extract, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a Blakean conflict between naivety and experience is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
