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Authors and After Words

Other worlds are the very geography of fantasy. These virtual alien geographies usually reflect metaphysical states and are meant to be metaphoric and symbolic. Middle Earth is such a place; Narnia another. In science, however, we now speculate about actual parallel worlds and universes, but until we cross into such geographies, they remain the stuff of fantasy, reflecting our known world but allowing for the exploration of different choices made under similar circumstances with different outcomes.

Since there is now some basis in science to consider parallel realties, such fictions may be classified as science fiction. Some of the works of Madeleine L’Engle are considered science fiction and some of the works of Ursula Le Guin are considered fantasy. It is not always clear how Philip Pullman categorizes his trilogy. Though Pullman explains himself as a realist, writing only the truth – as he sees it, of course – he concedes that there are fantasy elements in the His Dark Materials books (i.e. The Golden Compass, The Subtle Knife and The Amber Spyglass).

At any rate, with the existence of adjoining worlds made accessible through portals sliced by Pullman’s "subtle knife" and other details, there is enough scientific theory to be considered in a separate book by Mary and John Gribbin called The Science of Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials (Knopf, New York, 2003). This science is actually the cause of much stunning lyricism. Here, for example, is the heroine, Lyra’s passionate outburst when she and her beloved Will separate to return to their different worlds, never to meet again until their deaths without afterlife will nonetheless defy separation:

"I’ll be looking for you, Will, every moment, every single moment. And when we do find each other again, we’ll cling together so tight that nothing and no one’ll ever tear us apart. Every atom of me and every atom of you…

We’ll live in birds and flowers and dragonflies and pine trees and in clouds and in those little specks of light you see floating in sunbeams…And when they use our atoms to make new lives, they won’t just be able to take one, they’ll have to take two, one of you and one of me, we’ll be joined so tight…"

Such lyricism is transcendent and bespeaks the belonging which I have previously described as a prime value of fantasy. In The Amber Spyglass, it comes at the cost of a great sacrifice, the love between Pullman’s new Adam and Eve. Here, under his new mythology, Lyra and Will choose to leave the new Eden not as outcasts, but as rescuers, sacrificing their own happiness to save the new world.

This is, of course, an archetypal pattern, reflected in one form in the liturgy of the Christian church. Yet it is this same church – no, actually it is rather a parody of that church, both in its institutional and spiritual states – even unto an ailing and decrepit God – to which Pullman lays siege in His Dark Materials. In Pullman’s fantasy, that church and its orthodoxies and iconography, is revealed as fake and brought down by Lyra’s dysfunctional parents in order to pave the way for Lyra and her new Adam.

As one might imagine, such a book, written for children, has come under attack. Attempts (some successful, some not) have been made to censor the trilogy from school libraries and reading lists and the books continue to raise controversy. Pullman welcomes the controversy as a win-win situation since controversy equals sales and besides, he’s garnered enough praise to withstand criticism all the way to the bank. He takes special pleasure in appearing before young people to speak to the sins of the church (his arguments are more historical than theological) and the need to embrace science and save the world through atheism.

There is a certain fashion to atheism these days, but I would suggest, paradoxically, that Pullman’s trilogy does not further those arguments as much as he claims; that there is internal evidence in Pullman’s books to suggest quite another reading. In fact, his trilogy incorporates the positive transcendental values central to all religions including self sacrifice (as seen above), compassion, the sanctity of the body, a life well lived for others and so forth. Furthermore, along side the Gribbin book on science in the trilogy, theologians Donna Freitas and Jason King have written Killing the Imposter God; Philip Pullman’s Spiritual Imagination in His Dark Materials (Jossy-Bass, 2007). In the book, they answer Pullman’s criticisms against the church but also challenge Pullman’s assertion of atheism. Early on they point out that:

“Although Pullman seems to fit the heading of ‘protest atheist,’ he diverges from this category in one crucial way. Protest atheists do not reject one god in order to offer up another in its place. And that is precisely what Pullman does in His Dark Materials…The name of this divinity is Dust and Pullman gives over its study to people in Lyra’s world, whom he refers to as ‘experimental theologians.’” (p. 20.)

There is more to be said but we’ve run out of space. Suffice to say that at times, I find Pullman’s trilogy top heavy and even a little silly but even so, at the very center of his story, there are breathtaking moments and stunning visions which I find profoundly moving and resonant with deep spirituality. As a result, I would suggest for anyone reading His Dark Materials to dive into the books with an open mind and a searching heart, remembering that these aren’t the first fantasy adventures to begin in a wardrobe.