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 seems, in this volume especially, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or restructuring themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is draining from authorities, and accumulating in the halls of theocrats, the treasuries of conglomerates, the control of mobs. "Something is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were stable and strong are deteriorating and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Just what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that drives the concluding book, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth concluded. This is, by all accounts, the author's concluding excursion into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating universe he first unveiled three decades past, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose terrain aligns with that of this world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and reason and act like us, but are joined by external spirits, beings in animal form; where the heavens are teeming with sorceresses and gryphons, but underneath, buses are taken and beverages is consumed, and middle-aged academics carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the prequel, the origin story with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still distinctly the sharp and persistent heroine of the earlier books, but aged, sadder, warier, less sure. This circumscription is amplified by her separation from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to leave in search of that innocent part of her which she appears to have shed (an trait which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of the prior book, which followed Lyra undertake a picaresque journey across the continent and into the mountain region, meeting with marvel and risk on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the faith's governing authority, and the author's brilliantly sinister representation of austere, bureaucratic wickedness – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. The antagonist – our protagonist's relative, who faults her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of president of the authority's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his newfound influence to extend the institution's control. A key character, who rescued infant Lyra to security along a overflowing river as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a secondary role in spycraft: he is assigned to a key location to discover more about his aims. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and costly botanical extract which manifests mysteriously to be the source of a societal and economic upheaval spreading out from the region. The substance is viewed by certain groups as a tradeable commodity, by others as a scientific or spiritual wonder, and by others still – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an challenge that must be obliterated. The dilemma of where it comes from, its significance, and if it should be eliminated or protected is escalating in importance.
Like the first series, our protagonist's decisions, and her destiny, are shown to be inextricably entwined with the fate of the realm
In its predecessor, these narratives ran mostly in parallel. In the conclusion, they come together. As in the original series, the protagonist's movements and her fate are revealed to be inextricably linked with the future of the world. Her private journey to reunite with her daemon and recover her imagination becomes the primary struggle in a broader battle with an controlling regime which, as these systems typically do, is seeking to suppress freedom of reason, creativity and art: all the inner, resistant ways in which individuals can be free.
Dimensional Rifts and Ideological Conflicts
The story opens with the finding of a series of unusual fissures in the makeup of the Earth's air: gateways that seem to open into other worlds. A particular window seems to be the origin of the highly contested mystical extract. The church, with Delamare at its head, classifies these windows as a threat to the church's orthodoxy and endeavors to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to move from strict rationalism and revert to feeling, nevertheless, her belief that these locations must be defended – that their significance and their value is mysteriously essential – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the vision, or the field of roses, or whatever we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a Blakean tussle between naivety and experience is set.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
