Tings are collapsing in the last installment of The Book of Dust, the second of the author's masterful trilogies set in a world that manifests, in this volume especially, as a intense and slanted version of our own. Organizations are crumbling, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is draining from governments, and gathering in the chambers of religious leaders, the coffers of conglomerates, the hands of rioters. "Something is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his place in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and durable are faltering and collapsing."
Core Enigma and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that propels the concluding book, which continues where its predecessor concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final foray into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling realm he first revealed in the distant past, with the launch of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose landscape aligns with that of our world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals appear and reason and behave like us, but are paired by external spirits, souls in creature form; where the skies are filled with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but underneath, buses are ridden and beverages is drunk, and middle-aged academics carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a baby in the first volume, the introductory book with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still distinctly the sharp and tenacious main character of the previous installments, but older, sadder, more cautious, more doubtful. This limitation is intensified by her separation from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to leave in search of that innocent part of the heroine which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he represents as her "imagination"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which saw the protagonist undertake a picaresque voyage across Europe and into the Caucasus, meeting with wonder and risk on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in action, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the faith's ruling body, and the author's deliciously chilling embodiment of rigid, administrative wickedness – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's relative, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of president of the church's governing body, and is intent on using his fresh authority to broaden the church's rule. Another protagonist, who rescued infant Lyra to security along a overflowing river as an child in the first book, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in espionage: he is assigned to Geneva to learn more about his intentions. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the uncommon and valuable botanical extract which manifests somehow to be the origin of a social and financial upheaval spreading out from the region. The oil is regarded by some as a tradeable product, by different parties as a scientific or esoteric phenomenon, and by further factions – the zealous "highland figures" – as a origin of darkness; an affront that must be destroyed. The dilemma of its source, its significance, and if it should be destroyed or preserved is becoming urgent.
As in the original trilogy, the heroine's actions, and her destiny, are shown to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the world
In its predecessor, these storylines ran broadly in side by side. In the conclusion, they converge. Like His Dark Materials, Lyra's actions and her path are unveiled to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the world. Her individual mission to reconnect with her companion and regain her vision becomes the primary struggle in a larger conflict with an oppressive regime which, as such regimes typically do, is attempting to stifle independence of thought, originality and expression: all the internal, rebellious ways in which people can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The book begins with the discovery of a collection of strange cracks in the structure of the planet's sky: gateways that appear to lead to other worlds. One such portal appears to be the point of the highly contested botanical substance. The Magisterium, with its leader at its head, classifies these openings as a problem to the church's orthodoxy and aims to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to move from inflexible rationalism and return to feeling, yet, her conviction that these sites must be protected – that what they stand for and their value is mysteriously essential – grows. "The substance, or the extract, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or whatever we name it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a Blakean struggle between innocence and experience is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
