Philip Pullman and Wtw Repertory - The Golden Compass: Oxford

A pivotal point in the development of consciousness was the recognition of the concept of self-reference. The discovery was celebrated by the Greeks in the word play of paradox: 'I am a Cretan. All Cretans are liars' is the paradigmatic form that has entertained students of philosophy for centuries, leading directly to Quine's beautifully concise 'Yields a contradiction when appended to its own quotation'. Julian Jaynes (1995) and elsewhere, has concluded that consciousness, specifically self-consciousness was a discovery or even invention of the Greeks, and that before the construction of self-consciousness, introspection was conducted by an internal dialogue explained as a dialogue between the internal self and an external adviser or instructor, a god or dæmon. He cites the Iliad as poetry constructed before the origin of modern consciousness, and accounts for the dialogues between human characters and gods, as introspection of the bicameral mind, a language-using mind, but one unaware of the concept of self-reference, and forced therefore to interpret introspection as the conversation between two separate entities.

Perhaps we still have vestiges of the early form of internal dialogue today. Lounging in bed I might think, 'Come on, John, it's time you got up' or more likely in the gymnasium, 'Come on, John, five more reps: you can do it'. We recognize the metaphor of the voice of conscience, and we determine our solutions to moral dilemmas by a process of internal dialogue, and on two or three occasions I have felt inspiration leading me to mathematical insights that were far beyond my unassisted ability. All of these experiences can be regarded as vestiges of the states of mind of people who possessed language but without the concept of self-reference.

The literal voice of reason, the literal voice of conscience persisted in Greece in certain individuals. It was reported that Socrates conversed with his dæmon, sometimes stopping dead in the street for hours in dialogue with it, an entity of unexplained origin, external, as a personal genius, or internal as metaphor for introspective speculation. Certain esoteric systems teach the idea that every person is a duality, the physical human body, being one part, and the other a rational, moral, spirit, quite separate from the soul, a conjoined immaterial twin, referred as a dæmon, guardian angel, genius, or other term; and much esoteric teaching is designed to enhance the communication between the physical person and the dæmon, or in rationalistic terms to personify the processing of the right-hand hemisphere of the brain, in order to emphasise its importance.

In His dark materials Pullman posits a parallel world to ours in which the dæmons have a material existence. Each person possesses a dæmon, which is given a name, and each dæmon possesses the physical form of an animal. The dæmons of children are not fixed in form but can transform themselves instantaneously from one kind of animal to another, although at some point in their growing up, the forms of their dæmons become fixed, incarnate metaphors for the characters and potencies of the adults they have become. In this world the people conduct themselves as Jaynes postulates that the Greeks of the Iliad did, their cognition and introspection being conducted through dialectic with their dæmons. This is Lyra's world.

Lyra is twelve years old, a kind of ward of the Master and Fellows of Jordan College, Oxford. The book follows Lyra's adventures, and her contribution to the War in Heaven. In Lyra's world the reformation took a different turning, the fork in history having been caused by the elevation of John Calvin to the papacy, and the removal of the throne of Peter to Geneva. In common with other alternative histories the secular power of the Church has been maintained, and the Church oversees science and philosophy, suppressing science that appears to undercut its temporal authority. The intellectual world is similar in some respects to the world of Pavane (Roberts, 1968), an alternative history that places the fork with the assassination of Elizabeth I and the victory of the Spanish Armada.

The result of these forks in both worlds has been a stagnation of social change. Lyra's is a world of nobility, and scholars, and servants. Science in her world has progressed in somewhat different directions from science in ours, but there are similarities. In Lyra's world, anbaric force is the analogue of electricity in ours. Instead of physicists, or natural philosophers, in Lyra's world there are experimental theologians. Instead of using silver bromide or chloride in photographic emulsions they use silver nitrate. Aeroplanes have not been invented, but in Lyra's world one travels in the air in a hydrogen-filled Zeppelin. Though English society is stagnant, there are changes abroad in the world. The tartars are invading Muscovy, the witch clans are stirring, something disturbing is happening in the far north and the bears are on the move. The expedition sent to search for the causes of the disturbance has disappeared from the face of the Earth.

Growing up in the company of the Fellows of Jordan College, Lyra has been deprived of parental care, and is wild, rebellious, and unmanageable, refusing to accept the advice of her dæmon, Pantalaimon. Educated in discontinuous patches by the fellows who could spare the time means that she is learned in some subjects, totally ignorant of others. When she hears of the heliocentric solar system, which in her universe contains only the five innermost planets, she laughs aloud.

As well as the big political changes, changes are taking place locally in Oxford: children have started to disappear. Nobody knows why the children are taken or what might happen to them, and the disappearances are attributed to the Gobblers, whatever they might be. Mrs Coulter, a beautiful and glamorous woman, whose dæmon is a golden monkey, arrives at Jordan College and takes Lyra away from the draughty grandeur of the college, and the company of the somewhat seedy Fellows, to the luxury of London. When Lyra is leaving the College the Master gives her a package asking her to keep it secret from Mrs Coulter. It is an instrument the size of a large pocket watch, an alethiometer, made of brass, with a crystal glass, and a set of four hands, three connected to winders on the edge of the dial, the fourth free to swing. The dial itself is divided into 36 subdivisions each of which contains a small painted symbol.

Lyra gradually becomes suspicious of the brilliant Mrs Coulter and observes the golden monkey prying, and finding the alethiometer. She and Pantalaimon run away, and her adventures begin. She discovers that the alethiometer is an oracle, that it is interrogated by choosing three of the symbols to represent the question, aligning the three movable hands to point to the chosen symbols, and watching and interpreting the symbols pointed to by the fourth hand as it swings, apparently spontaneously to indicate a series of the symbols. Lyra discovers that by letting her mind free she can interrogate the alethiometer.

The world contains many peoples. Polar bears in Lyra's world can speak; they have opposable thumbs, and they can work metal, to make armour for themselves when they go to war. Witches, all female, are beautiful, have magical powers, live for hundreds of years, and can fly on boughs of cloud pine. They mate with mortal men. Their daughters become witches; their sons remain mortal. The life of a witch is a long regret for the ephemerality of her lovers. Lyra discovers that the Gobblers have captured her friend Roger, a kitchen-boy from Jordan College, and with the aid of the alethiometer, she and Pantalaimon go on a quest to rescue him.

The book has been praised for the quality of the writing, and on the whole I agree with the praise, but the author's handling of violent, rapid action strikes me as very pedestrian. He cannot catch the clash and clang of arms in combat. The imagination of the world is intense and original. It reminds me of the world of The Anubis Gates (Powers, 1997) which deals with the transporting of the hero into a Victorian world in a parallel universe, and also of the parallel Victorian world so concretely imagined by Gibson and Sterling (1992) in The difference engine. Both of these books present satisfyingly realised alternative universes but neither approaches Pullman's most important imaginative achievement, his embodying of the bicameral mind so persuasively that the reader's incredulity is suspended, and becomes emotionally involved with the relationship between person and dæmon.

The book describes triumphs and tribulations. This is not a Tolkien-like saga where it is obvious that everything will turn out well in the end and all the goodies will survive, even if one of them is bit moody afterwards. Some have condemned the trilogy as being too adult for children, too juvenile for adults. I can sympathise a little with this point of view. Some of Lyra's exploits seem too fabulous to work in the world that Pullman has designed, but the power of his writing, the intensity of the emotions he evokes more than compensate for some implausible plotting, and this intensity might be upsetting for younger children. It is not possible to foresee what will happen, but The golden compass leads Lyra on an unforgettable journey.

The golden compass is the first book in the trilogy entitled His dark materials, a quotation from Paradise lost and also a reference to the dark matter that makes up most of the mass of the universe. The following book, The subtle knife introduces us to Will, a boy from our own world who finds a gateway into Lyra's world, causing them mutual consternation when they encounter persons with and without accompanying embodied dæmons. The final book, The amber spyglass, deals with a skirmish in the War in Heaven.

Facile commentators have compared Pullman's achievement with Lewis's Cosmic trilogy. While the matters dealt with are similar, the logic, solidity, and passion of Pullman's writing outshines Lewis's as anbaric light outshines a naphtha lamp.

I have dwelt on the first book of the trilogy because, after establishing such a concrete and fascinating universe, in my view, the second and third books can continue the adventure, but cannot present, anew, the imaginative achievement, seen for the first time in The golden compass.

Lyra and Pantalaimon, in the form of a moth, are in the darkening Hall of Jordan College as evening is falling:

'Crouching behind the high table, Lyra darted along and through the door into the Retiring Room, where she stood up and looked around. The only light in here came from the fireplace, where a bright blaze of logs settled slightly as she looked sending a fountain of sparks up the chimney. She had lived most of her life in the College, but had never seen the Retiring Room before: only Scholars and their guests were allowed in here, and never females. Even maidservants didn't clean in here. That was the Butler's job alone.

Pantalaimon settled on her shoulder.
"Happy now? Can we go?" he whispered.
"Don't be silly! I want to look around!"

It was a large room, with an oval table of polished rosewood on which stood various decanters and glasses, and a silver smoking mill with a rack of pipes. On a sideboard nearby was a little chafing dish and a basket of poppy-heads. "They do themselves well, don't they, Pan?" she said under her breath.

She sat in one of the green leather armchairs. It was so deep she found herself nearly lying down, but she sat up again and tucked her legs under her to look at the portraits on the walls. More old Scholars, probably: robed, bearded and gloomy, they stared out of their frames in solemn disapproval.

"What do you think they talk about?" Lyra said, or began to say, because before she'd finished the question she heard voices outside the door.

"Behind the chair---quick!" whispered Pantalaimon, and in a flash Lyra was out of the armchair and crouching behind it.'

She sees something from her hiding place that leads her gradually into the heart of the War in Heaven.

A magnificent, thrilling, fascinating, moving book.



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Gibson, William and Sterling, Bruce (1992)
The difference engine.
Bantam Books.

Jaynes, J. (1986)
Canadian Psychology 27(2):1--15
Consciousness and the voices of the mind.

Powers, Tim (1997)
The Anubis Gates.
Berkley Pub. Group.

Roberts, Keith (1968)
Pavane.
Victor Gollancz, London.