Tings are falling apart in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the second of the author's grand trilogies set in a world that manifests, in this volume especially, as a intense and slanted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reassembling themselves along new and troubling lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from states, and accumulating in the offices of theocrats, the vaults of business empires, the hands of crowds. "Something is at work, silently, very subtly", says businessman a merchant figure, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his place in an city cafe. "Things we thought were secure and solid are faltering and giving way."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that propels the concluding book, which picks up where the previous book ended. This is, by all accounts, the author's last excursion into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling world he first unveiled in the distant past, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a world whose geography maps on to that of this world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the humans appear and think and act like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, beings in beast form; where the air are filled with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but below, transports are taken and drinks is consumed, and older professors carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a child in the first trilogy, and then saw again as a baby in the first volume, the prequel with which Pullman began the series, is now a mature individual: still distinctly the prickly and persistent heroine of the previous installments, but aged, melancholic, more cautious, less sure. This limitation is amplified by her division from her animal guide, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the cause which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to depart in search of that innocent part of the heroine which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he represents as her "vision"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed the protagonist undertake a wandering voyage across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with wonder and risk on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in action, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the religious ruling body, and the author's masterfully eerie representation of rigid, administrative wickedness – is under new leadership, and asserting its power. The antagonist – Lyra's family member, who faults her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the role of leader of the church's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his fresh power to extend the religion's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued baby the heroine to security along a overflowing river as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in espionage: he is assigned to the city to learn more about the antagonist's intentions. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and precious rose oil which appears somehow to be the cause of a social and financial disturbance emanating out from that area. The substance is viewed by various factions as a tradeable good, by different parties as a research-based or spiritual miracle, and by yet others – the zealous "highland figures" – as a source of darkness; an affront that must be eradicated. The question of its source, its significance, and if it should be eliminated or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
Similar to the original trilogy, Lyra's deeds, and her fate, are shown to be inseparably linked with the future of the world
In the previous volume, these narratives ran broadly in parallel. In the conclusion, they converge. As in the original series, the protagonist's choices and her destiny are revealed to be inseparably woven with the fate of the universe. Her private mission to reconnect with her companion and recover her creativity becomes the key conflict in a larger conflict with an controlling government which, as such authorities typically do, is striving to stifle autonomy of thought, originality and culture: all the internal, defiant ways in which people can be independent.
Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles
The book opens with the discovery of a series of unusual fissures in the makeup of the Earth's atmosphere: gateways that seem to open into alternate realities. One such window manifests to be the point of the much debated botanical substance. The authority, with the antagonist at its head, classifies these openings as a problem to the institution's doctrine and aims to destroy them. As Lyra begins to move from strict rationalism and return to intuition, yet, her certainty that these places must be preserved – that what they stand for and what they offer is in some way crucial – strengthens. "The substance, or the extract, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or whatever we call it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a philosophical conflict between purity and knowledge is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
