Things are falling apart in the last installment of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a universe that appears, in this volume especially, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Institutions are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from states, and gathering in the halls of religious leaders, the treasuries of corporations, the grasp of rioters. "Some force is at work, stealthily, very subtly", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and strong are faltering and failing."
Key Puzzle and Her Quest
Precisely what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that drives this final volume, which picks up where the previous book ended. This is, by all accounts, the author's final foray into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting realm he first introduced in the distant past, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose geography aligns with that of the real world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals look and think and behave like us, but are paired by animal souls, souls in beast form; where the heavens are populated with witches and mythical beasts, but underneath, buses are taken and beverages is sipped, and middle-aged professors carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the first trilogy, and then revisited as a infant in the prequel, the introductory book with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still clearly the prickly and persistent heroine of the previous installments, but aged, more sorrowful, warier, less certain. This restraint is heightened by her separation from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
The daemon's resolve to leave in quest of that youthful part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a adventurous trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, meeting with amazement and risk on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in play, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the religious governing authority, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of rigid, administrative malice – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's family member, who faults her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of leader of the Magisterium's High Council, and is set on using his newfound influence to extend the religion's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued young Lyra to refuge along a swollen Thames as an child in the first book, is now an academic with a additional duty in spycraft: he is assigned to a key location to learn more about the antagonist's plans. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the uncommon and costly essential oil which seems in some way to be the cause of a social and economic disturbance emanating out from the region. The substance is regarded by some as a tradeable good, by others as a research-based or spiritual phenomenon, and by yet others – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of malevolence; an insult that must be destroyed. The issue of where it comes from, what it stands for, and if it should be removed or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.
Like the original trilogy, the heroine's deeds, and her fate, are demonstrated to be inseparably linked with the fate of the universe
In the previous volume, these storylines ran broadly in side by side. In the conclusion, they come together. Similar to the original series, her actions and her destiny are shown to be inextricably woven with the future of the realm. Her individual journey to reconnect with her daemon and recover her vision becomes the central conflict in a larger conflict with an controlling system which, as these systems often attempt, is striving to suppress independence of thinking, originality and culture: all the personal, rebellious ways in which humans can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The novel starts with the unveiling of a series of strange cracks in the makeup of the world's atmosphere: gateways that appear to open into other worlds. An example of a opening manifests to be the point of the highly contested botanical substance. The authority, with its leader at its helm, labels these windows as a challenge to the church's doctrine and endeavors to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to turn away from rigid rationalism and revert to feeling, yet, her belief that these locations must be protected – that their significance and their value is mysteriously essential – increases. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or whatever we label it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a philosophical tussle between naivety and knowledge is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
