Philip Pullman - The Golden Compass
From Amazon.com: The protagonist of this complex fantasy is young Lyra Belacqua, a precocious orphan growing up within the precincts of Oxford University. But it quickly becomes clear that Lyra's Oxford is not precisely like our own--nor is her world. For one thing, people there each have a personal dæmon, the manifestation of their soul in animal form. For another, hers is a universe in which science, theology, and magic are closely allied. Lyra's carefree existence changes forever when she and her dæmon, Pantalaimon, first prevent an assassination attempt against her uncle, the powerful Lord Asriel, and then overhear a secret discussion about a mysterious entity known as Dust. Soon she and Pan are swept up in a dangerous game involving disappearing children, a beautiful woman with a golden monkey dæmon, a trip to the far north, and a set of allies ranging from "gyptians" to witches to an armor-clad polar bear.
When I began reading the book, I realized that I had attempted it before. Last time, I seem to recall being unwilling to put forth the effort to suspend my disbelief and slide into Pullman's world. This time I made the effort, and then could barely put the book down to eat.
Supposedly for younger readers, the book seemed rather adult to me. Lyra begins at Jordan College in Oxford, where she runs wild with other children and street urchins rather than being tutored and learning anything. Her behavior, along with the treatment she receives from the housekeeper and the Master of the college, puts her age rather lower than expected. For a child of this age, her run-ins with Lord Asriel and Mrs. Coulter take on a very sinister tone, as does her decision to find the disappeared children from her group.
Lyra's age is still in question after she is taken in by Mrs. Coulter. Her delight in the femininity of Mrs. Coulter and her environment is odd, given that I was assuming her age to be between eight and ten. If a girl is a dedicated tomboy, she is not likely to be seduced into frills at that age. Lyra's fierce dedication to both the gyptians and to Iorek the bear reinforced my ideas that she was a younger child.
However, when Lyra decides to fool her captors in the North by pretending to be younger and stupider than she is, and she informs them that she is eleven, I was shocked. That puts her age much older than I had previously thought. She's probably at least thirteen.
Now that I look back on it, the idea of a girl of that age going through all these adventures is a lot squickier than it was before I knew. Thirteen, even pre-puberty, is getting into the age where irritating romance writers call their heroines "woman-child." I guess I'm disturbed by Lyra's complete lack of maturity. I'm not sure if that will play into the plot in the later books, or if once again I'm getting burned by a man's characterization of a girl.
Anyway. Lord Asriel's betrayal at the end seemed very out-of-character, until I recalled that we had only seen him in action once before, and at that time, he was more than willing to use Lyra herself. Everything we learned after that was stories told to Lyra about the past and vague news about the present. Lyra really didn't know Asriel at all, and her inability to be suspicious of him was completely in character, given the groundwork Pullman laid through the second half. Lyra's lack of grief, though, and her sudden refocus on Dust made little sense to me.
It was interesting to read Pullman after he got himself into hot water with Narnia fans by criticizing the series as sexist, racist, and violent. Pullman critics contend that his books are nothing but anti-religious tracts themselves. While I've only read about half a Narnia book (It was boring.), I have to say that so far, in The Golden Compass, the crazed religious people with their bizarre theories about how everything in nature ties in with original sin, well, it didn't seem that far from reality to me. Not that every religious person in reality is crazed, but that it seems to be so easy for people of limited intelligence to slip down that slope, and for the basic tenets of government and the Church to follow them.
When I began reading the book, I realized that I had attempted it before. Last time, I seem to recall being unwilling to put forth the effort to suspend my disbelief and slide into Pullman's world. This time I made the effort, and then could barely put the book down to eat.
Supposedly for younger readers, the book seemed rather adult to me. Lyra begins at Jordan College in Oxford, where she runs wild with other children and street urchins rather than being tutored and learning anything. Her behavior, along with the treatment she receives from the housekeeper and the Master of the college, puts her age rather lower than expected. For a child of this age, her run-ins with Lord Asriel and Mrs. Coulter take on a very sinister tone, as does her decision to find the disappeared children from her group.
Lyra's age is still in question after she is taken in by Mrs. Coulter. Her delight in the femininity of Mrs. Coulter and her environment is odd, given that I was assuming her age to be between eight and ten. If a girl is a dedicated tomboy, she is not likely to be seduced into frills at that age. Lyra's fierce dedication to both the gyptians and to Iorek the bear reinforced my ideas that she was a younger child.
However, when Lyra decides to fool her captors in the North by pretending to be younger and stupider than she is, and she informs them that she is eleven, I was shocked. That puts her age much older than I had previously thought. She's probably at least thirteen.
Now that I look back on it, the idea of a girl of that age going through all these adventures is a lot squickier than it was before I knew. Thirteen, even pre-puberty, is getting into the age where irritating romance writers call their heroines "woman-child." I guess I'm disturbed by Lyra's complete lack of maturity. I'm not sure if that will play into the plot in the later books, or if once again I'm getting burned by a man's characterization of a girl.
Anyway. Lord Asriel's betrayal at the end seemed very out-of-character, until I recalled that we had only seen him in action once before, and at that time, he was more than willing to use Lyra herself. Everything we learned after that was stories told to Lyra about the past and vague news about the present. Lyra really didn't know Asriel at all, and her inability to be suspicious of him was completely in character, given the groundwork Pullman laid through the second half. Lyra's lack of grief, though, and her sudden refocus on Dust made little sense to me.
It was interesting to read Pullman after he got himself into hot water with Narnia fans by criticizing the series as sexist, racist, and violent. Pullman critics contend that his books are nothing but anti-religious tracts themselves. While I've only read about half a Narnia book (It was boring.), I have to say that so far, in The Golden Compass, the crazed religious people with their bizarre theories about how everything in nature ties in with original sin, well, it didn't seem that far from reality to me. Not that every religious person in reality is crazed, but that it seems to be so easy for people of limited intelligence to slip down that slope, and for the basic tenets of government and the Church to follow them.