Title: The Subtle Knife
Author: Philip Pullman
Publisher: Scholastic Publications Ltd/Knopf
ISBN: 0-590-54243-5/0-679-87925-0
Price: £12.99/$20.00
After its British publication, Philip Pullman's Northern Lights (aka The Golden Compass in the U.S.), the first book in the His Dark Materials trilogy, won the 1996 Carnegie Medal, the UK equivalent of the Newbery. In an interview in The Daily Telegraph, Pullman said "In adult literary fiction, stories are there on sufferance. Other things are felt to be more important: technique, style, literary knowingness. Adult writers who do deal in straightforward stories find themselves sidelined into a genre such as Crime or Science Fiction, where no-one expects literary craftsmanship[!]. In a book for children you can't put the plot on hold while you posture artistically for the amusement of your sophisticated readers."
Although these books lack swathes of artistic indulgence, reading them provides an object lesson in How To Write Good. Pullman wastes not one word. The effect is completely compelling, singing with ingenuity, imagination, breadth of vision, and intensity of emotion. This is a rare and happy combination to find in any kind of fiction, and one of the reasons why Northern Lights has charmed so many adult fantasy readers.
Dealing with those tired old children's subjects-the physical nature of the universe and the structure of the human soul-the story begins in a fictional Oxford in the country of Brytain, an alternate modern Britain where physics took a different turn and the Church governs science with an iron fist. The plot begins with the science of experimental theology. One powerful, charming feature of this alternate universe is the physical incarnation of the human "spirit" separate from the mind and body. Named 'daemons,' these spirits accompany every individual in the form of an animal familiar of the opposite sex. The theologians want to discover the nature of child-daemons, and their possible interaction with Dust, a phenomenon associated with the northern lights (the aurora borealis). Dust has revealed an ethereal city hanging in the moving patterns of solar particles, which the famous scientist, Lord Asriel, is sure he can reach with the right kind of catalytic power. This city turns out to be the Oxford of contemporary Britain.
Lyra, a young tomboy and self-interested savage, sets out to spy on the secret rituals of Lord Asriel and his scholars. Lyra is a dynamic heroine and a huge dose of fresh air to women of all ages. Because Lyra is a child, her daemon is able to change his shape, from cat to bird, to ermine, to moth. But at the age of puberty these forms become fixed, in tune with the nature of the person. This curious daemonic feature is explored by the devious Mrs. Coulter of the Church's General Oblation Board. To say more would spoil the story, but some revelations regarding the General Oblation Board's work are truly shocking.
In The Subtle Knife, the action moves to this world, where a new hero, Will, is trying to cope with his mentally disturbed mother. He meets Lyra when he follows a stray cat through a hole in reality (hidden on a traffic island). Together they have, as you might expect, dangerous adventures, and the wider plot thickens as the Dust in Lyra's world shows up as Dark Matter in this one. Will is a good counterpoint to Lyra, more thoughtful and less primitive. Together they form a compelling alliance in the strangest of circumstances--a deserted cafeteria in an almost deserted halfway world between Brytain and Britain. It reminded me of Blackpool (a northern seaside town, notorious for budget holiday thrills) in the off-season-grey and bleak, even in sunny weather, echoing with cold ghosts and the cry of gulls. It is in this volume, with the appearance of soul-eating specters and distant angels, that the work's anti-religious (or, more specifically, anti-dogmatic) streak makes its appearance, though Pullman has lain down his thematic groundwork well in advance. The force of his condemnation is aimed squarely at the hierarchical domination of the church (rather than belief itself), and the most grotesque of cruelties emanating from theologians of varying kidney, whether alternate or contemporary.
There is a strong sense, as the volume closes, that the third book will promise revelations which are profoundly spiritual as well as reasoned. There is also death here, torture of the worst kind, and the loss and betrayal of friends. All that is won comes at a high price which the characters must pay up in full. The alchemical wedding of these events and the unencumbered manner of their telling can cut straight to the heart of the reader. And this is to say nothing about the wild beauty of the witches on their branches of cloud pine, naked in the freezing atmosphere; and the ferocious danger of the panzerbjorne, steel-armored polar bears fighting over their northern realms in duels to the death. These books are filled with marvels and wonders, fear and horror.
Which brings up another point that sets Pullman's work apart from the crowd. It marks out clearly the values of who does what--good or bad, treacherous and loyal--without preaching. As in the black humor of Roald Dahl, cruelty of many kinds abounds and plots of immense viciousness fester and threaten. The presentation of events is raw; nothing is rationalized, explained away or defused. The morality of events doesn't have to be pointed out with tedious authorial condescension because it's obvious on every page.
Another treat is that Pullman captures the gulf of understanding between adults and children, but lets the reader in on both worlds. His adults all seem dark and inscrutable when seen from a child's point of view, yet in their own scenes their reasons for acting as they do have a certain familiarity to an older reader. If nothing else it is a clear example of how you learn to rationalize self-interest, instead of simply acting on it. It is a genuine shock to discover that "good" adult characters, as apparently reliable and trustworthy as faithful dogs, are really two-faced amoral schemers.
Though brilliant, these novels are not for everyone. Some reviewers have characterized Lyra as unsympathetic, due to her rampant boldness, her selfishness, and a long string of thoughtless acts piling one atop the other in a great torrent of irritating, clunk-headed destruction. All true, but all forgivable, since she's still a child uninhibited by forethought. Also, that fact that these works lack the sophistication and current fondness for ambivalent moral outcomes found in "adult" fantasy may limit their appeal for overly sensitive critics. And if you haven't figured it out by now, these books are far from a sunny romp. Bathos occasionally threatens, and the story's dark elements may be enough to rain on the average corporate fantasy reader's parade.
But for lovers of great fiction, Pullman's books are a real joy, packing enough sense of wonder to tickle even a jaded reader's fancy. Moreover, they contain everything modern adult fantasy fiction misses by a country mile 99% of the time. Failing a tremendous (and tremendously unlikely) letdown in the third volume, His Dark Materials shows every sign of being a landmark work of modern fantasy. Chalk it up to a writer who knows exactly what he wants to do, and why: "(Children) are ignorant little savages, most of them. But they know what they need and they go for it with the intensity of passion, and what they need is stories. We don't need lists of rights and wrongs, tables of dos and don'ts: we need books, time and silence." Amen to that.
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