Things are collapsing in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the next of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a world that appears, in this volume especially, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Establishments are failing, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from authorities, and accumulating in the offices of theocrats, the coffers of business empires, the hands of crowds. "An element is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were firm and solid are deteriorating and collapsing."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that something might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that animates this final volume, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, reportedly, the author's last foray into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling universe he first introduced three decades past, with the launch of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose geography maps on to that of this world, but whose chronicles diverges and shifts with ours; where the individuals appear and think and act like us, but are joined by daemons, souls in beast form; where the heavens are teeming with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, vehicles are ridden and drinks is drunk, and middle-aged academics carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a child in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a infant in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a young woman: still clearly the sharp and tenacious protagonist of the prior volumes, but older, melancholic, warier, less certain. This limitation is intensified by her split from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to leave in quest of that innocent part of her which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her journey to reunite with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw the protagonist undertake a adventurous voyage across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with amazement and risk on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the faith's ruling body, and the author's deliciously chilling representation of strict, bureaucratic malice – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's relative, who faults her for his sibling's death – has positioned himself into the office of president of the Magisterium's High Council, and is determined on using his fresh power to broaden the church's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who carried infant the heroine to refuge along a swollen river as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an academic with a sideline in espionage: he is assigned to Geneva to learn more about Delamare's intentions. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and costly essential oil which seems mysteriously to be the origin of a social and financial crisis rippling out from Central Asia. The substance is regarded by various factions as a commercial good, by alternate groups as a research-based or mystical phenomenon, and by yet others – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a source of evil; an challenge that must be eradicated. The issue of where it comes from, its significance, and if it should be destroyed or protected is coming rapidly to the fore.
Like His Dark Materials, our protagonist's deeds, and her future, are shown to be inextricably linked with the fate of the universe
In the previous volume, these plots ran broadly in side by side. In the conclusion, they come together. Similar to the original series, her actions and her fate are shown to be deeply linked with the fate of the world. Her individual quest to reunite with her companion and regain her imagination becomes the central conflict in a broader conflict with an oppressive system which, as these systems often attempt, is attempting to quell freedom of reason, innovation and culture: all the inner, defiant ways in which people can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The story begins with the unveiling of a set of unusual fissures in the makeup of the planet's atmosphere: windows that seem to give on to different dimensions. One such portal manifests to be the source of the much debated rose oil. The Magisterium, with its leader at its helm, labels these portals as a problem to the church's orthodoxy and aims to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to shift from rigid logic and back to instinct, yet, her certainty that these sites must be defended – that their significance and what they offer is in some way vital – strengthens. "Dust, or the extract, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or whatever we call it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a Blakean struggle between naivety and experience is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
