Musings on His Dark Materials: My Golden Affidavit

Growing up in a Christian household, C.S. Lewis was one of the easiest and most direct associations with fantasy I could attend to. But, I see his work as generally coating the surface area of what fantasy can be, missing the mark especially in later "Narnia," gathering old perspectives of a worn-out intellect, and pressing an even more tired and less relevant doctrine onto the innocence of children.

It was for these reasons I was drawn to Philip Pullman’s "His Dark Materials." Anti-religious controversy mixed with the author’s challenging critique of Lewis’ work amused my literary palette. Alternatively, I found a deep, underlying growth of consciousness surrounding "His Dark Materials," one that represents human growth and transformation rather than the idle glamorization of religious ideas.

Pullman’s story is full of antagonism, a force I respect deeply--the divide between good and evil is a thin, unraveling veil not meant to be seen, where it is simply our perception that clouds them against each other, revealing an inner metaphor that swirls with information in response to our ever-learning, active imaginations, working together in the subtle joining of two parts: yin and yang, male and female, inhalation and exhalation, etc. It is through this awareness that the Devil is to be sympathized.

Spirits fly high above the mountaintops, and we fall into place among the solitary breezes, all at once a significant, ethereal mind.

In "The Amber Spyglass," part three of the trilogy, a discussion with an angel curiously hints at the imagination’s infinite boundaries:

“Will you be confined to one world as we are?”
“No; we have other ways of traveling.”
“The way you have,” Lyra said, “is it possible for us to learn?”
“Yes. You could learn to do it... it uses the faculty of what you call imagination. But that does not mean ‘making things up.’ It is a form of seeing.”
“Not real traveling, then,” said Lyra. “Just pretend...”
“No,” said Xaphania, “nothing like pretend. Pretending is easy. This way is hard, but much truer... It takes long practice, yes. You have to work. Did you think you could snap your fingers, and have it as a gift? What is worth having is worth working for.”

It is clear that the full expression of "His Dark Materials" is effective enough that I doubt I will completely understand it anytime soon. However, an outline of “conscious innocence” is so apparent in the story's closure, wherein Lyra may regain her "divine consciousness" through work and direct intent. As well, the crux of "His Dark Materials" indeed sits among the purest of love stories, certainly giving me an epic springboard to base my own desires upon.

Watch close, friends! The eve of our rebellion is fast approaching, and we shall gather among the stars in faith and goodwill, to win and submit in the battle with our own natures, and transform to fully realized human beings!

And there is finally, in part brilliant metaphor, the political crusade Pullman rages against the Catholic Church. Personally, I have gone from a devout “believer” to almost completely abstaining from religion--taking secret comfort in knowing that any extreme carelessness I could just blame on my youth... C.S. Lewis being once an atheist seemed to excuse myself--to brashly revoking my faith entirely, to gaining rather solid footing in the truth I proclaim via my own shameless existence, actively spitting on the Super Christian hierarchy that so painfully creeps into the ego as a parasite, inhibiting our free minds from imagination, our souls from expression, and our flesh from pleasure.

In Lewis' "The Silver Chair," Aslan refuses to help a traumatized Jill drink from a stream, right after she accidentally knocks her friend from the edge of a cliff. Accidentally is the key word, yet the lion does not allow her to come through on her own terms nor initially forgive her, inflicting enough guilt on the poor girl to terrify her into doing exactly what he asks before allowing her to take comfort in his mane. Talk about control tactics.

Christian believers will therein approach "His Dark Materials" warily and fearfully, as there are less religious politics in their favor than there are in "Narnia," but I strongly suggest that where the flock gathers they humbly taste the fruit of knowledge and become conscious; approach the books with open minds, and more importantly, open hearts.

Here I am--my gut has been sliced open! My secrets lay exposed with the sprawling length of my intestinal fortune, and the putrid stench of what lies I had digested not moments before evaporate into the air. This is my golden compass, and I lay it at your mercy--these are my fears and these are my joys; a grasp at my own hidden particles.

To Lord Asriel’s religious revolt, his admittedly exciting war on the Kingdom of Heaven, on God Himself, I ask only, “Where do I sign?” Reading Pullman’s words reignited my fire to burn oppression, my natural body’s response toward what is “wrong,” and to fight--that is, to antagonize--in hopes that such actions may provoke a greater realization than ever intended.