The Amber Spyglass

Allow me to wax lyrical about The Amber Spyglass for a moment. Phillip Pullman's closing chapter to the His Dark Materials (what a great name for a trilogy!) is my favourite novel ever, and maybe even my favourite work of fiction regardless of medium. Yes, even my beloved In Bruges would struggle to overcome The Amber Spyglass in a battle for my affections.

My love for it has grown steadily since I first read it as a wee lad in 2003 or something. It took me seven years to re-read it, and it was even better the second time round. And those are the only two times I've read it. Twice would feel like a paltry number of read-throughs if it didn't sear itself into my memory to the extent that it has. So many beautiful images stuck with me and never faded: Mary Malone's realisation that the mulefa have evolved with the trees; the freed ghosts stepping out into the light, momentarily blinking with pleasure before their atoms are dispersed and scattered into nature; the image of God, crippled and weak, dying abandoned; and of course Lyra and Will's tearful separation (to name but a few).

It's the most cohesive fictional world I've ever encountered (second place goes to Robin Hobb's Farseer trilogy, but that's a blog for another time). Everything just makes sense. I'm struggling a bit to articulate how it makes me feel, but there is just irrepressible sense that Pullman hasn't created a world, rather discovered one. Harry Potter, for instance, is fantastic in imagining the big details, but too much of it doesn't make a whole lot of sense (What do the adults do? What's wrong with mobile phones? Time-turners?). There are no such holes in His Dark Materials. Take the daemons for instance. They change shape with ease in the pre-pubescent years, before slowly settling down on a particular form, one that reflects or compliments the personality of their human. What a freaking perfect metaphor for childhood. And when Pantalaimon settles, Lyra loses her ability to read the alethiometer. It just feels like the best way of evoking the inherent talents of kids for understanding personality, before they grow older and less adaptive.

Mary Malone happens upon a whole new world, unexplored by reader or characters in the previous two installments, the world inhabited by the mulefa. It is the most breathtakingly beautiful depiction of an undiscovered ecosystem, combining an engrossing account of Mary's slow understanding of the mulefa and their customs with a gentle refutation of creationism. Pullman was bold in casting aside all likeness to Earth, instead examining the basic mechanics of life and nudging them in a different direction. The mulefa are weird and move in strange ways, yet just feel possible. 


Pullman's approach to religion is basically to tackle it head on. The Authority, his take on the Catholic Church, is an oppressive force. The Church's attacks on free thought is embodied by the angel Metatron, who tears from the sky wielding a great spear, destroying any perceived threat to his organisation. More powerful than a human alone, he is eventually toppled into an endless void by the combined efforts of Lord Asriel and Mrs. Coulter, who go down with him. One fantastic side of the religion debate is the two homosexual angels, Baltamos and Baruch. There's no sex, obviously, but it's clear that their love is more than just friendship. Cast from heaven, endlessly pursued, and in a weakened state, they are amongst the most courageous characters in the book. And in a month when North Carolina voted against gay marriage, Baruch and Balthamos feel particularly pertinent.

Pullman also has a knack for names. Lyra Belacqua. Iorek Byrnison.Serafina Pekkala. Lord Asriel. Marissa Coulter. Lee Scoreseby. Cittagaze. Anbaric. Daemons. Alethiometer. Mulefa. Pantalaimon. All of them are so evocative. Especially anbaric. It simply means electricity, but sounds so much rawer, untamed and dangerous. It's one of my favourite words.

Another favourite: Lord Asriel. He's my favourite character in all of literature. Immensely proud, extremely intelligent, volatile, powerful, dark, charismatic and ambitious. He blows a hole in the sky, takes on God and wins. Magnificent bastard.

One last confession: The Amber Spyglass is one of the few things I've ever encountered that has the ability to make me cry. I can be a bit stony-hearted, but when Lyra and Will fall in love then discover that their time together is limited, and every possible loophole is closed, and they arrange to sit on the same bench in their separate worlds, clinging to each other... oh man.