I first read Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials eons ago, largely by the glow of a bedside lamp and the flickering fluorescent lights of my middle school’s classrooms. I was maybe 10 or so years old, the sort of kid who pored over the Scholastic catalogs every year in anticipation of the annual book fair. Then, as now, I loved magic and I loved reading, and I fell for The Golden Compass right away.
The first film adaptation left something to be desired. The new HBO series, however, felt better—and it made me wonder. How would it feel to reread His Dark Materials as an adult, close to 20 years after my initial introduction to Lyra’s Oxford?
Reading ‘His Dark Materials’ as a Millennial Child
My memory is far from foolproof; sometimes it feels like my brain is made of swiss cheese. So it takes a lot of effort, and usually multiple exposures, for me to perfectly remember a plot. (This is one reason why I started keeping a reading journal this year.) But certain things do stick—a moment, or a feeling, or a certain specific sensation can last in my brain for decades.
Before my reread of His Dark Materials, I’d forgotten entire subplots and characters. I didn’t remember the names of angels, the true nature of Dust, or even which side won the celestial war. But I remembered Lyra, Pantalaimon, and Will. I remembered Iorek the bear and Lee Scoresby, forever my favorite aeronaut. I remembered how to read an alethiometer—and the exact way in which the ending of the third book broke my heart.
I loved the characters as a child, especially Lyra and Pan. In them, I saw myself (even though I was nowhere near as rebellious or outspoken as she) and my beloved kitty Sassy, my real-life daemon whom I miss every day. I didn’t read His Dark Materials as a fictionalized critique of religious institutions (and especially Christianity); I’d been raised an atheist. Instead, it was just another fantastical tale—but one I would carry with me for the rest of my life.
Rereading ‘His Dark Materials’ 20 Years Later
As is often the case when revisiting childhood favorites, rereading His Dark Materials as an adult was a bit of an eye-opening experience. In college, I got my minor in religious studies—while I wouldn’t say I’m an expert, I certainly know a lot more about faith and spirituality than I did when I was a child.
Somewhere between my first and second read, I’d discovered that Pullman was, in fact, an avid atheist and that the Catholic Church had banned the series for more than their usual gripes against magic and fantasy storytelling in general. But reading it now, it was a bit of a shock to find so many layers of social and religious commentary hiding beneath the few I was able to appreciate the first time around.
Pullman’s angels are incredibly flawed and shockingly human, sometimes even more so than the humans they travel with. The Church is blatantly cruel, conniving, and condescending toward anyone they perceive as “lesser” (which is basically anyone who isn’t them).
Mrs. Coulter calls out the men of the church as being “men with a feverish obsession with sexuality, men with dirty fingernails, reeking of ancient sweat, men whose furtive imaginations would crawl over [Lyra’s] body like cockroaches.” Even mild-mannered Mary Malone, an ex-nun, observes, “The Christian religion is a very powerful and convincing mistake, that’s all.”
As for the omnipotent, all-powerful God real-world preachers love to preach about—that God simply doesn’t exist.
My favorite facet of Pullman’s reality, however, is his depiction of death—not the journey into the so-called Land of the Dead but what comes after. Souls don’t go to Heaven or Hell for all eternity. Instead, they dissolve, dispersing like dandelion fluff on a breeze. It’s not a scary or painful process; it’s a relief to finally shed one’s mortal coil and move on. It reminds me of my favorite monologue ever, Erin Greene’s speech about death near the end of Midnight Mass:
“There is no time. There is no death. Life is a dream. It’s a wish. Made again and again and again and again and again and again and on into eternity. And I am all of it. I am everything. I am all. I am that I am.”
A certain character’s death in The Amber Spyglass reads similarly:
“. . . the last little scrap of consciousness that had been the aeronaut Lee Scoresby floated upward, just as his great balloon had done so many times. Untroubled . . . conscious only of his movement upward, the last of Lee Scoresby passed through the heavy clouds and came out under the brilliant stars, where the atoms of his beloved daemon, Hester, were waiting for him.”
Some people might be terrified by this concept. Me? I find it comforting.
None of these layers, however, would matter so much to Past Me or Present Me without a living, breathing world and memorable characters to populate it. And I was so pleased, upon rereading the trilogy, to find Lyra and Pan and Will and everyone else exactly as complex and lovable and relatable as I remembered. I missed wandering through Jordan college with Lyra. I was even thrilled to visit Cittàgazze again, albeit from the safety of my room (because let’s face it, I’d be Specter food now). And it was good to “see” old, familiar faces again—even if it also meant reliving certain tragedies as well.
What to Read After ‘His Dark Materials’
Back when I first finished the series, that was it. There was no Lyra’s Oxford companion book, no HBO show, not even that one Golden Compass movie. I said my goodbyes and had to move on; there was no other option.
This time, there’s a whole new series to read. I’ve got the first book sitting on my bedside table right now—La Belle Sauvage, the first in the Book of Dust trilogy. I know nothing except that my two favorite troublemakers, Lyra and Pan, are back—and honestly, that’s all I need to know. I’m excited to see how they’ve grown and what new secrets of Dust and the universe they’ll unravel next.
Kim Berkley is a fantasy author and narrative designer who’s written both traditional and interactive fiction. Read her low-fantasy novella, chiaroscuro, for free today, and be sure to sign up for her newsletter to find out when her next book (or game!) is coming out!
