Things are collapsing in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that appears, here more than ever, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or reorganizing themselves along new and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Power is draining from governments, and pooling in the offices of theocrats, the treasuries of conglomerates, the hands of crowds. "An element is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says businessman a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and strong are weakening and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that animates the concluding book, which picks up where the previous book ended. This is, reportedly, the author's last foray into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating world he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose geography corresponds to that of the real world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the individuals appear and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, beings in animal form; where the air are teeming with enchantresses and gryphons, but beneath those skies, buses are taken and drinks is drunk, and middle-aged professors carry luxury shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the first volume, the prequel with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still distinctly the sharp and determined main character of the previous installments, but aged, sadder, more cautious, less sure. This circumscription is amplified by her division from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
His choice to go off in pursuit of that childlike part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an quality which he represents as her "imagination"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the driving forces of the prior book, which chronicled Lyra undertake a wandering journey across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with marvel and peril on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in action, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the church's ruling body, and the author's brilliantly sinister incarnation of austere, procedural malice – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – Lyra's relative, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of leader of the church's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his fresh power to broaden the church's dominium. A key character, who rescued baby Lyra to safety along a swollen river as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a additional duty in spycraft: he is dispatched to a key location to learn more about his aims. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the uncommon and valuable rose oil which seems in some way to be the source of a societal and financial disturbance rippling out from that area. The extract is regarded by various factions as a tradeable commodity, by others as a scientific or spiritual phenomenon, and by further factions – the extremist "mountain dwellers" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an challenge that must be obliterated. The issue of its source, what it stands for, and if it should be removed or protected is becoming urgent.
Similar to the first series, Lyra's deeds, and her destiny, are revealed to be deeply connected with the fate of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran broadly in side by side. In the conclusion, they converge. Similar to the first trilogy, the protagonist's choices and her fate are shown to be inseparably linked with the future of the realm. Her individual quest to reunite with her companion and recover her creativity becomes the central conflict in a wider battle with an authoritarian regime which, as such authorities always have, is striving to suppress independence of thought, creativity and expression: all the personal, defiant ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The story begins with the discovery of a series of unusual fissures in the fabric of the Earth's air: portals that seem to lead to different dimensions. A particular window manifests to be the point of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The church, with Delamare at its leadership, labels these portals as a challenge to the institution's doctrine and endeavors to destroy them. As the heroine begins to move from rigid rationalism and revert to intuition, yet, her certainty that these locations must be preserved – that what they stand for and what they provide is mysteriously essential – strengthens. "Dust, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we require it." The setting for a philosophical struggle between naivety and experience is established.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
