Northern Lights

The Aurora Borealis.

 

I fin­ished Philip Pullman’s won­der­ful The Golden Compass last night, and can’t wait to read the rest of the tril­ogy. It’s very well writ­ten and sur­pris­ingly thought pro­vok­ing. A page turner, to be sure. Also hop­ing that the sequels will be filmed, even though mixed mes­sages abound about that. I’ve read on the Net that the next movie is in the bag for 2009, and, that it won’t be filmed at all. The two major rea­sons given for not film­ing are the lack of box office suc­cess for the first movie and oppo­si­tion from church groups.

The novel is set in par­al­lel uni­verse to our own, with many sim­i­lar­i­ties, but some strik­ing dif­fer­ences. The most strik­ing being that humans have per­sonal dae­mons – ani­mals that remain with them at all times and are some­thing like an exter­nal soul. These dae­mons have the abil­ity to change into other ani­mals, at least while their humans are chil­dren. Once the child becomes an adult, the dae­mon loses its pro­tean pow­ers and remains fixed. The Golden Compass only hints at pos­si­ble rea­sons for this, and con­nects it to a fur­ther mys­tery, Dust. The idea is rich in sym­bol­ism and alle­gor­i­cal poten­tial, but the answers must reside inside nov­els two or three.

The action takes place in England, pri­mar­ily at Oxford ini­tially, and then moves north­ward toward the Arctic. Lyra Belacqua is the hero­ine of the story, a brave young girl of eleven, pos­sess­ing a des­tiny she knows noth­ing about but may sense in part. Her jour­ney is set in motion by a series of kid­nap­pings, includ­ing her best friend Roger. Children being kid­napped. One of the great­est fears for any child or their par­ents. As we read on, how­ever, the fear of kid­nap­ping itself is over­whelmed by some­thing far more sinister.

Lyra is aided at first by a peo­ple called “gyp­tians,” sim­i­lar to the Romani, who have lost chil­dren too. The kid­nap­pers have earned the nick­name “Gobblers” and are a mys­tery to most through­out the major­ity of the novel.

As with so many good sto­ries, ancient mythic ele­ments appear often here, such as Lyra’s dis­cov­ery of her true parent­age later in the novel, and the help she receives from oth­er­worldly beings. Witches, in this case. Another folk­loric ele­ment is key: talk­ing ani­mals who aid the hero. A giant polar bear named Iorek Byrnison is the prime exam­ple. Her pro­tec­tor and friend. Lyra also learns how to use the Alethiometer, a com­pass of sorts with the power to tell the truth and see into the future. This device com­bines ele­ments from the leg­ends of King Arthur and the myth of Perseus. A sword only one per­son can lift, and a gift from a deity that helps the hero over­come tremen­dous, deadly obsta­cles. There are also allu­sions to prophe­cies about a mes­siah. Lyra. Again, this is sim­i­lar to Arthur and Cuchulain and var­i­ous reli­gious fig­ures down through the ages. Though Pullman casts a slight bit of doubt about those prophe­cies. One witch speaks about them in an ambigu­ous tone, as if she were cer­tain once, but has lost that certainty.

Issues of honor, loy­alty and betrayal play a huge role in the book. Underdogs, the poor, the help­less and the oppressed, rally together to help each other and Lyra defeat more pow­er­ful foes. The gypt­ian and witch cul­tures appear to be largely oral and tra­di­tional, and this aids in the estab­lish­ment of bonds and deep­ens loy­alty. This, from a lit­er­ary point of view, is effec­tively done, non-​​contrived, and increases nat­ural sym­pa­thy and iden­ti­fi­ca­tion in those characters.

Toward the end of the book, Pullman takes some time out to dis­cuss some of the philo­soph­i­cal and the­o­log­i­cal under­pin­nings of his alter­nate world, in the form of a dia­logue between Lyra and Lord Asriel. Rather than slow the story down, this really just sets things up for the next book in the series, The Subtle Knife.

Will write about that shortly, and return to some ele­ments in the first book as well.

 

 


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