Things are falling apart in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a world that seems, in this volume especially, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or restructuring themselves along new and disturbing lines. An unseen 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 governments, and pooling in the chambers of religious leaders, the coffers of conglomerates, the hands of mobs. "An element is at work, silently, very subtly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and solid are weakening and collapsing."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Precisely what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that animates the concluding book, which resumes where its predecessor ended. This is, reportedly, the author's last foray into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating universe he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the publication of Northern Lights. It's a world whose geography maps on to that of the real world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and think and act like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, souls in creature form; where the air are filled with enchantresses and gryphons, but underneath, transports are ridden and beverages is sipped, and middle-aged scholars carry fancy shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the prequel, the origin story with which the author began this trilogy, is now a adult: still clearly the sharp and determined heroine of the prior volumes, but more mature, melancholic, more cautious, less certain. This limitation is heightened by her division from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the cause which led him to leave her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
His choice to leave in pursuit of that innocent part of the heroine which she appears to have shed (an quality which he symbolizes as her "creativity"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the driving forces of the prior book, which saw the protagonist undertake a picaresque voyage across Europe and into the mountain region, meeting with marvel and peril on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in action, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the church's ruling body, and the author's masterfully eerie representation of rigid, administrative wickedness – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – Lyra's family member, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of head of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his recently acquired authority to expand the church's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who saved young Lyra to safety along a swollen Thames as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a additional duty in espionage: he is sent to the city to discover more about his plans. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and costly essential oil which appears somehow to be the source of a social and financial crisis emanating out from Central Asia. The oil is regarded by various factions as a tradeable good, by alternate groups as a empirical or esoteric phenomenon, and by others still – the zealous "highland figures" – as a origin of darkness; an challenge that must be obliterated. The issue of where it comes from, its meaning, and whether it should be destroyed or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
Like His Dark Materials, our protagonist's actions, and her fate, are revealed to be inseparably connected with the destiny of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran broadly in side by side. In the conclusion, they merge. Like the first trilogy, the protagonist's choices and her path are shown to be inextricably linked with the destiny of the universe. Her private mission to rejoin with her companion and rediscover her creativity becomes the key conflict in a wider battle with an authoritarian regime which, as such authorities often attempt, is striving to suppress autonomy of reason, innovation and art: all the personal, resistant ways in which people can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Ideological Conflicts
The novel begins with the finding of a set of strange fissures in the fabric of the planet's air: windows that appear to lead to different dimensions. A particular opening manifests to be the source of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The Magisterium, with its leader at its helm, classifies these portals as a threat to the church's doctrine and endeavors to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to move from strict rationalism and return to feeling, however, her certainty that these sites must be preserved – that what they stand for and what they offer is mysteriously essential – strengthens. "The substance, or the substance, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a philosophical tussle between naivety and experience is established.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
