Move Over, Alice! Look Out, Bilbo! There's a New Kid in Town

If you think that high metaphysical fantasy reached a never-topable pinnacle with The Lord of the Rings, or if you believe that Alice is the most memorable child of children's literature, you've quite obviously never read Philip Pullman's The Golden Compass. But you can fix that, and believe me, it needs fixing, because you're missing out on one of literary fantasy's finest offerings until you've read this book.

Heady Stuff

You notice I said "literary fantasy" as opposed to "children's fiction"? Good, you're paying attention. So, why did I say that? Well, for starters, how many children's books are you aware of that start off with a quote from Milton's Paradise Lost?

The Golden Compass is Book One of Pullman's trilogy which takes not only its title (His Dark Materials), but also its theme and story line from Milton's verse. In his acknowledgments to Book Three (The Amber Spyglass), Pullman humbly attributes his inspiration for the trilogy to the "work of better writers," foremost among them John Milton and William Blake. Personally, I question Pullman's humility, but then I am hopelessly and unabashedly smitten by Philip Pullman's abilities, not merely as a children's author, but as an author, period, and a story-teller par excellence.

How many children's books are you able to read repeatedly and still find deeper nuances of meaning with each re-reading? Your list is small, I'd wager, and may include Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings or C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia. Unless its somewhat atheistic tone offends your sensibilities, I guarantee you'll be able to add The Dark Materials trilogy to that list of greats. I've read The Golden Compass three times now, and enjoy its subtle crafting even more with each reading.

How many children's tales are you familiar with that question not only the honesty and control of government but of the Church and Church doctrines as well? If Anne Rice's Memnoch flies in the face of your Judeo-Christian belief system, Pullman's cosmological arguments in this children's book may just be a bit too much for you. [Pullman does, after all, refer to himself as an "Episcopalian atheist," and the story here, and even more so in the subsequent two volumes (The Subtle Knife and The Amber Spyglass), reflects his philosophical bent.]

How many children's books have you read which leave you pondering metaphysical questions, making you question, really question, your own life and the very purpose of existence? Unless you are able to divorce yourself completely from the story, The Golden Compass will leave you pondering.

How often do you encounter children's literature which uses such vivid imagery that your eyes sting and toes go numb from the cold the author creates, or you find yourself tensing with dread fearing what's on the other side of a door, or feel enveloped in a warm and comforting embrace right along with the protagonist? Pullman is a master of language in creating sensual experiences: you'll see his settings; you'll smell, taste, and touch them.

Pullman can do all this. He is capable of the most intricate construction, with a gradual buildup of layers of meaning and understanding, with lots of deftly subtle foreshadowing which heightens the plot's intensity. He presents his readers with sumptuous and ornately detailed descriptions of places, people, and things. If that's not enough, he also writes with drop-dead gorgeous language guaranteed to delight older readers. All that, and still The Golden Compass is also accessible to younger readers because the exciting plot and delightful characters will snatch them into Pullman's world and hold them there breathless with anticipation of what's to come. It's filled with believably evil villains, talking, armor-clad bears, wise witches, and a typically Pullmanly spunky protagonist, my favorite girl of children's literature, Lyra Belacqua, compared to whom Carroll's Alice is a tedious milksop.

The only thing noticeably absent in this book is humor. In nearly 400 pages, I can only think of a handful of amusing passages. (And even those few passages might not actually amuse someone less familiar with the British university system than I.) The tale is packed with excitement, mystery, intrigue, terror, violence, and tenderness, but very little humor. Pullman himself has admitted that he finds it very difficult to make people laugh. (See http://www.slj.com/articles/articles/20001001_9064.asp.) Lack of humor acknowledged, I hasten to add that because of the grandness of this tale and its almost mystical quality, somehow the lack of humor does not really seem to be a failing here.

The Story Begins

Lyra Belacqua has spent most of her young life living amongst the scholars at Jordan College in Oxford (an Oxford similar in many regards to late 19th Century Oxford, England, but existing in a parallel universe with definite differences from our own, not least of which is that peoples' souls accompany them in physical form as animal daemons). She'd be perfectly happy to remain there forever, under the protection of the Master, and fussed at and over by a host of academicians and servants. She and her daemon Pantalaimon never tire of exploring the college catacombs, leaping about over the roof tops and escaping into town where she and her comrades at arms engage in all manner of mischief. It's an idyllic existence for this feisty little orphan, both safe and secure, yet wild and free.

But Lyra's life is destined to change rapidly and dramatically, for Lyra, unbeknownst to her, is a very important and special child. A series of events, beginning with the mysterious visit to the College by the dark and powerful Lord Asriel, an attempted murder, an increase in the disappearance of children all over the country, and culminating in the disappearance of Roger, Lyra's closest friend, and Lyra's removal from the Master's care, will find Lyra leaving behind her Oxford games of mock warfare to enter into a vast and perilous world of real life and death struggles in a battle between good and evil in which she is the pivotal player.

Only few can be trusted, and everyone seems to have a secret agenda. Lyra must rely on her own strength of character, her very soul in the form of her daemon Pantalaimon, and the golden compass (a rare device bequeathed to her by the Master of Jordan College) on a quest she doesn't understand but seems destined to pursue to prevent the world she knows from being destroyed forever.

Don't Just Take My Word For It

The Golden Compass is one of my all-time favorite books. "So what?" you might say. "What does she know?" Let me further convince you of how good this book is, since I'm not alone in considering it a classic (a term I don't bandy about lightly). Among the honors bestowed on this book are:

• The Carnegie Medal (England)
• The Guardian Fiction Prize (England)
• An ALA Notable Children's Book
• An ALA Top Ten Best Books for Young Adults
• A Horn Book Fanfare Honor Book
• Publishers Weekly Best Book of the Year

Two of my most favorite authors are Philip Pullman and Lloyd Alexander. So it doesn't surprise me in the least that Lloyd Alexander sings Pullman's praises, too. Here's what he had to say about The Golden Compass: "I'm enormously impressed. It's a rich combination of high fantasy, high drama, and intense emotion. Philip Pullman's creation is a world thoroughly realized, completely convincing."

Alexander's impressed; I'm impressed; and if you love beautiful writing, intricate, complicated, never-know-what-to-expect plots featuring a Cecil B. DeMille sized cast of multi-faceted, strong, believable characters, then you'll be impressed, too. Lucky for you that Books Two and Three are now both available; you won't have to suffer the anguish of waiting years between sequels as I did. After you've met Lyra, you'll see why Alice and Bilbo should take note that there's a new kid in town.