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The Book of Dust: La Belle Sauvage (Book of Dust, Volume 1) Hardcover – Illustrated, October 19, 2017
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Philip Pullman returns to the parallel world of His Dark Materials--now an HBO original series starring Dafne Keen, Ruth Wilson, Andrew Scott, and Lin-Manuel Miranda--to expand on the story of Lyra, “one of fantasy’s most indelible heroines” (The New York Times Magazine).
Don’t miss Volume II of The Book of Dust: The Secret Commonwealth!
Malcolm Polstead and his daemon, Asta, are used to overhearing news and the occasional scandal at the inn run by his family. But during a winter of unceasing rain, Malcolm finds a mysterious object—and finds himself in grave danger.
Inside the object is a cryptic message about something called Dust; and it’s not long before Malcolm is approached by the spy for whom this message was actually intended. When she asks Malcolm to keep his eyes open, he begins to notice suspicious characters everywhere: the explorer Lord Asriel, clearly on the run; enforcement agents from the Magisterium; a gyptian named Coram with warnings just for Malcolm; and a beautiful woman with an evil monkey for a daemon. All are asking about the same thing: a girl—just a baby—named Lyra.
Lyra is at the center of a storm, and Malcolm will brave any peril, and make shocking sacrifices, to bring her safely through it.
“Too few things in our world are worth a seventeen-year wait: The Book of Dust is one of them.” —The Washington Post
“The book is full of wonder. . . . Truly thrilling.” —The New York Times
“People will love the first volume of Philip Pullman’s new trilogy with the same helpless vehemence that stole over them when The Golden Compass came out.” —Slate
- Print length464 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherKnopf Books for Young Readers
- Publication dateOctober 19, 2017
- Grade level9 - 12
- Reading age14 - 17 years
- Dimensions6.25 x 1.5 x 9.25 inches
- ISBN-100375815309
- ISBN-13978-0375815300
- Lexile measureHL770L
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- Highest ratedin this set of productsHis Dark Materials 3-Book Paperback Boxed Set: The Golden Compass; The Subtle Knife; The Amber SpyglassPaperback
- Most purchasedin this set of productsThe Shadow and Bone Trilogy Boxed Set: Shadow and Bone, Siege and Storm, Ruin and RisingPaperback
- He was liked when noticed, but not noticed much, and that did him no harm either.Highlighted by 537 Kindle readers
- Ten years after this evening, and again ten years after that, Lyra would marvel at the coloring of that dæmon’s fur.Highlighted by 458 Kindle readers
- He was discovering a new power in himself: he was able to stop thinking things he didn’t want to think.Highlighted by 446 Kindle readers
From the Publisher

About The Book of Dust: La Belle Sauvage
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His Dark Materials: The Golden Compass (Book 1) | His Dark Materials: The Subtle Knife (Book 2) | His Dark Materials: The Amber Spyglass (Book 3) | The Book of Dust: La Belle Sauvage (Volume 1) | The Book of Dust: The Secret Commonwealth (Volume 2) | |
Enter the world of His Dark Materials | The modern fantasy classic soon to be an HBO original series – HIS DARK MATERIALS! | The second book in the HIS DARK MATERIALS series – soon to be an HBO original series! | The third book in the HIS DARK MATERIALS series – soon to be an HBO original series! | Set in the same world as HIS DARK MATERIALS - meet Lyra before the events of The Golden Compass! | Set in the same world as HIS DARK MATERIALS - discover what happened to Lyra after The Amber Spyglass! |
Editorial Reviews
Amazon.com Review
Review
"It's a stunning achievement, the universe Pullman has created and continues to build on." —The New York Times
"A phantasmagoric waterborne odyssey. Mr. Pullman is a supple and formidable writer." —The Wall Street Journal
"Enthralling, enchanting. The first half reads like a thriller. The story becomes darker, deeper and even more engrossing when a cataclysmic flood overtakes Southern England. Too few things in our world are worth a seventeen year wait: The Book of Dust is one of them." — The Washington Post
"Pullman's writing is as deftly brilliant as ever. A triumphant return to the alternate Oxford we love."—Bustle
"The Book of Dust passes by in one tumultuous wave of literature, that leaves you queasy, but wanting the next volume as quickly as possible. It deserves not only a reread, but an unpacking. It is not a one and done novel, something that, in a time where binging and passing is the status quo. This is a novel to digest. One to take in, let settle, and then revisit. We are lucky to have Pullman's words. Words that will continue to nourish the souls and imaginations of readers for a long, long time." —Hypable
"Once again, Pullman’s fantasy arrives precisely when it can teach us the most about ourselves, as if it were guided by Dust itself." —Entertainment Weekly
"High-octane adventure accompanies ingenious plotting." —The Times (London)
"Lyra Silvertongue, Lyra Belacqua, but really just Lyra: one of those characters—Pip, Emma, Lolita—who is on first-name terms with her public."—The New York Times Magazine
"Pullman's imagery is as dazzling as ever. La Belle Sauvage reveals the incredible ways in which 'ordinary' children can react whenplaced in extraordinary circumstances: with kindness, bravery and cunning." —The Bookseller
"A rollicking adventure. Delightful." —Mother Jones
"A stunning, otherworldly journey. La Belle Sauvage dives deeply into magic and intrigue. What a gift it is to be allowed back into this universe." —BuzzFeed
"Full of acute observation. A rich, imaginative, vividly characterized rite-of-passage tale." —London Sunday Times
"Thrilling and thought-provoking." —Times Literary Supplement
"A singularly beguiling work of fantasy. [Pullman is] perhaps the best fantasy writer alive." —The A.V. Club
"A profoundly compelling foundation for a new trilogy." —Vox
"This tense, adventure-packed book will satisfy and delight Pullman's fans and leave them eager to see what's yet to come" —Publishers Weekly, starred review
"Pullman is an easeful storyteller and an intricate and inventive world-builder, and everything he has to write is worth reading." —The Telegraph
"Magisterial storytelling will sweep readers along; the cast is as vividly drawn as ever; and big themes running beneath the surface invite profound responses and reflection." —Kirkus Reviews, starred review
"Luminous prose, heady philosophical questions, and a lovable protagonist combine with a gripping plot sure to enchant fans and newcomers alike." —SLJ, starred review
"Pullman demonstrates that his talent for world building hasn’t diminished, nor has his ability to draw young characters—here, Malcolm, who is layered enough to carry an adventure through multiple dimensions." —Booklist, starred review
"Pullman's immense powers of kinesthetic visualization keep the story pulsing on an epic scale."—The Guardian
"An immersive, creepy, edge-of-your seat adventure." —Shelf Awareness
"To connect once more with a fictional universe of such great power is a delight." —Financial Times
About the Author
The Book of Dust, Pullman’s eagerly anticipated return to the world of His Dark Materials, will also be a book in three parts. It began with La Belle Sauvage and continues with The Secret Commonwealth.
Philip Pullman is the author of many other beloved novels. For younger readers: I Was a Rat!, Count Karlstein, Two Crafty Criminals!, Spring-Heeled Jack, and The Scarecrow and His Servant. For older readers: the Sally Lockhart quartet (The Ruby in the Smoke, The Shadow in the North, The Tiger in the Well, and The Tin Princess), The White Mercedes, and The Broken Bridge. He has written a magnificent collection, Fairy Tales from the Brothers Grimm, and his essays and lectures on writing and storytelling have been gathered in a volume called Dæmon Voices: On Stories and Storytelling.
Philip Pullman lives in Oxford, England.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
“Malcolm, you en’t in bed yet—good. Come downstairs for a minute. There’s a gentleman wants a word with you.”
“Who is it?” said Malcolm eagerly, jumping up and following his father out.
“Keep your voice down. He’ll tell you who he is if he wants to.”
“Where is he?”
“In the Terrace Room. Take him a glass of Tokay.”
“What’s that?”
“Hungarian wine. Come on, hurry up. Mind your manners and tell the truth.”
“I always do,” said Malcolm automatically.
“News to me,” said his father. But he ruffled Malcolm’s hair before they entered the bar.
The gentleman waiting gave him a start, though all he was doing was sitting still by the cold fireplace. Perhaps it was his dæmon, a beautiful silvery spotted leopard, or perhaps it was his dark, saturnine expression; in any event, Malcolm felt daunted, and very young and small. His dæmon, Asta, became a moth.
“Good evening, sir,” he said. “Your Tokay what you ordered. Would you like me to make up the fire? It’s ever so cold in here.”
“Is your name Malcolm?” The man’s voice was harsh and deep.
“Yes, sir. Malcolm Polstead.”
“I’m a friend of Dr. Relf,” said the man. “My name is Asriel.”
“Oh. Er—she hasn’t told me about you,” Malcolm said.
“Why did you say that?”
“Because if she had, I’d know it was true.”
Asriel gave a short laugh.
“I understand,” he said. “You want another reference? I’m the father of that baby in the priory.”
“Oh! You’re Lord Asriel!”
“That’s right. But how are you going to test the truth of that claim?”
“What’s the baby’s name?”
“Lyra.”
“And what’s her dæmon called?”
“Pantalaimon.”
“All right,” said Malcolm.
“All right now? You sure?”
“No, I en’t sure. But I’m more sure than I was.”
“Good. Can you tell me what happened earlier this evening?”
Malcolm went through it as fully as he could remember.
“These men came from the Office of Child Protection, and they wanted to take her away. Take Lyra. But Sister Benedicta wouldn’t let ’em.”
“What did they look like?”
Malcolm described their uniforms. “The one who took his cap off, he seemed like he was in charge. He was more polite than the others, more sort of smooth and smiling. But it was a real smile, not a fake one. I think I’d even’ve liked him if he’d come in here as a customer—that sort of thing. The other two were just dull and threatening. Most people would’ve been dead scared, but Sister Benedicta wasn’t. She faced ’em off all by herself.”
The man sipped his Tokay. His dæmon lay with her head up and her front paws stretched out ahead of her, like the picture of the Sphinx in Malcolm’s encyclopedia. The black-and-silver patterns on her back seemed to flicker and shimmer for a moment, and then Lord Asriel spoke suddenly.
“Do you know why I haven’t been to see my daughter?”
“I thought you were busy. You probably had important things to do.”
“I haven’t been to see her because if I do, she’ll be taken away from there and put in a much less congenial place. There’ll be no Sister Benedicta to stand up for her there. But now they’re trying to take her anyway. . . .”
“Excuse me, sir, but I told Dr. Relf about all this. Didn’t she tell you?”
“Still not quite sure about me?”
“Well . . . no,” said Malcolm.
“Don’t blame you. You going to go on visiting Dr. Relf?”
“Yes. Because she lends me books as well as listening to what’s happened.”
“Does she? Good for her. But tell me, the baby—is she being well looked after?”
“Oh, yes. Sister Fenella, she loves her a lot. We all— They all do. She’s very happy—Lyra, I mean. She talks to her dæmon all the time, just jabber jabber jabber, and he jabbers back. Sister Fenella says they’re teaching each other to talk.”
“Does she eat properly? Does she laugh? Is she active and curious?”
“Oh, yeah. The nuns are really good to her.”
“But now they’re being threatened. . . .”
Asriel got up and went to the window to look at the few lights from the priory across the river.
“Seems like it, sir. I mean, Your Lordship.”
“‘Sir’ will do. You know them well, these nuns?”
“I’ve known ’em all my life, sir.”
“And they’d listen to you?”
“I suppose they would, yes.”
“Could you tell them I’m here and I’d like to see my daughter?”
“When?”
“Right now. I’m being pursued. The High Court has ordered me not to go within fifty miles of her, and if I’m found here, they’ll take her away and put her somewhere else where they aren’t so careful.”
Malcolm was torn between saying, “Well, you ought not to risk it, then,” and simple admiration and understanding: of course the man would want to see his daughter, and it was wicked to try to prevent him.
“Well . . .” Malcolm thought, then said, “I don’t think you could see her right now, sir. They go to bed ever so early. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were all fast asleep. In the morning they get up ever so early too. Maybe—”
“I haven’t got that long. Which room have they made into a nursery?”
“Round the other side, sir, facing the orchard.”
“Which floor?”
“All their bedrooms are on the ground floor, and hers is too.”
“And you know which one?”
“Yes, I do, but—”
“You could show me, then. Come on.”
There was no refusing this man. Malcolm led him out of the Terrace Room and along the corridor, and out onto the terrace before his father could see them. He closed the door very quietly behind them and found the garden brilliantly lit by the clearest full moon there’d been for months. It felt as if they were being lit by a floodlight.
“Did you say there was someone pursuing you?” said Malcolm quietly.
“Yes. There’s someone watching the bridge. Is there any other way across the river?”
“There’s my canoe. It’s down this way, sir. Let’s get off the terrace before anyone sees us.”
Lord Asriel went beside him across the grass and into the lean-to where the canoe was kept.
“Ah, it’s a proper canoe,” said Lord Asriel, as if he’d been expecting a toy. Malcolm felt a little affronted on behalf of La Belle Sauvage and said nothing as he turned her over and let her slip quietly down the grass and onto the water.
“First thing,” he said, “is we’ll go downstream a short way, so’s no one can see us from the bridge. There’s a way into the priory garden on that side. You get in first, sir.”
Asriel did so, much more capably than Malcolm had anticipated and his leopard daemon followed, with no more weight than a shadow. The canoe hardly moved at all, and Asriel sat down lightly and kept still as Malcolm got in after him.
“You been in a canoe before,” Malcolm whispered.
“Yes. This is a good one.”
“Quiet, now . . .”
Malcolm pushed off and began to paddle, staying close to the bank under the trees and making no noise at all. If there was one thing he was good at, this was it. Once they were out of sight of the bridge, he turned the boat to starboard and made for the other shore.
“I’m going to come up alongside a willow stump,” he said very quietly. “The grass is thick there. We’ll tie her up and go back across the field, behind the hedge.”
Lord Asriel was just as good at getting out as he’d been at getting in. Malcolm couldn’t imagine a better passenger. He tied the boat to a stout willow branch growing from the stump, and a few seconds later they were moving along the edge of the meadow, under the shade of the hedge.
Malcolm found the gap he knew about and forced his way through the brambles. It must have been harder for the man, being bigger, but he didn’t say a word. They were in the priory orchard; the lines of plum trees and apple trees, of pear trees and damson trees, stood bare and neat and fast asleep under the moon.
Malcolm led the way around the back of the priory and came to the side where the window of Lyra’s nursery would be, if it hadn’t been hidden by the new shutters. They did look remarkably solid.
He counted once more to make sure it was the right one, and then tapped quietly on the shutter with a stone.
Lord Asriel was standing close by. The moon was shining full on this side of the building, so they would both be clearly visible from some way off.
Malcolm whispered, “I don’t want to wake any of the other nuns, and I don’t want to startle Sister Fenella because of her heart. We got to be careful.”
“I’m in your hands,” said Lord Asriel.
Malcolm tapped again a little harder.
“Sister Fenella,” he whispered.
No response. He tapped a third time.
“Sister Fenella, it’s me, Malcolm,” he whispered.
What he was really worried about was Sister Benedicta, of course. He dreaded to think what would happen if he woke her, so he kept as quiet as he could while still trying to wake Sister Fenella, which was not easy.
Asriel stood still, watching and saying nothing.
Finally Malcolm heard a stirring inside the room. Lyra gave a little mew, and then it sounded as if Sister Fenella moved a chair or a small table. Her soft old voice murmured something, like a word or two of comfort to the baby.
He tried again, just a little louder. “Sister Fenella . . .”
A little exclamation of shock.
“It’s me, Malcolm,” he said.
A soft noise, like the movement of bare feet on the floor, and then the clock of the window catch.
“Sister Fenella—”
“Malcolm? What are you doing?”
Like him, she was whispering. Her voice was frightened and thick with sleep. She hadn’t opened the shutter.
“Sister, I’m sorry, I really am,” he said quickly. “But Lyra’s father’s here, and he’s being pursued by—by his enemies, and he really needs to see Lyra before—before he goes on somewhere else. To—to say goodbye,” he added.
“Oh, that’s nonsense, Malcolm! You know we can’t let him—”
“Sister, please! He’s really in earnest,” Malcolm said, finding that phrase from somewhere.
“It’s impossible. You must go away now, Malcolm. This is a bad thing to ask. Go away before she wakes up. I daren’t think what Sister Benedicta—”
Malcolm didn’t dare think it either. But then he felt Lord Asriel’s hand on his shoulder, and the man said, “Let me speak to Sister Fenella. You go and keep watch, Malcolm.”
Malcolm moved away to the corner of the building. From there he could see the bridge and most of the garden, and watched as Lord Asriel leaned towards the shutter and spoke quietly. It was a whisper; Malcolm could hear nothing at all. How long Asriel and Sister Fenella spoke he couldn’t have guessed, but it was a long time, and he was shivering hard when he saw, to his amazement, the heavy shutter move slowly. Lord Asriel stood back to let it open, and then stepped in again, showing his open, weapon-less hands, turning his head a little to let the moonlight fall clearly on his face.
He whispered again. Then there was a minute—two minutes, perhaps—in which nothing happened; and then Sister Fenella’s thin arms held out the little bundle, and Asriel took it with infinite delicacy. His leopard dæmon stood up to put her forepaws on his waist, and Asriel held the baby down so she could whisper to Lyra’s dæmon.
How had he persuaded Sister Fenella? Malcolm could only wonder. He watched the man lift the baby again and walk along the grass between one bare flower bed and the next, holding the bundle high so he could whisper to her, rocking her gently, strolling along slowly in the brilliant moonlight. At one point he seemed to be showing the moon to Lyra, pointing up at it and holding her so she could see, or perhaps he was showing Lyra to the moon; at any rate he looked like a lord in his own domain, with nothing to fear and all the silvery night to enjoy.
Up and down he strolled with his child. Malcolm thought of Sister Fenella waiting in fear—in case Lord Asriel didn’t bring her back, in case his enemies attacked, in case Sister Benedicta suspected something was up. But there was no sound from the priory, no sound from the road, no sound from the man and his baby daughter in the moonlight.
At one point the leopard dæmon seemed to hear something. Her tail lashed once, her ears pricked, her head turned to face the bridge. Malcolm and Asta turned immediately, ears and eyes tightly focused on the bridge, every separate stone of which was clearly outlined in black and silver; but nothing moved, and there was no sound but the call of a hunting owl half a mile away.
Presently the leopard dæmon’s statue-like stillness melted, and she moved away once more, lithe and silent. Malcolm realized that that was true of the man as well—during their journey over the river and through the meadow, into the orchard and up to the priory wall, he had not heard the slightest sound of footsteps. Asriel might as well have been a ghost, for all the sound he made.
He was turning now at the end of the walk and making for Sister Fenella’s window again. Malcolm watched the bridge, the garden, what he could see of the road, and saw nothing wrong; and when he turned, Asriel was handing the little bundle up through the window, whispering a word or two, and silently swinging the shutter closed.
Then he beckoned, and Malcolm joined him. It was very difficult to make no noise at all, even on grass, and Malcolm watched to see how the man set his feet down: there was something leopardlike about it—something to practice himself, anyway.
Back through the orchard, back to the hedge, through the brambles, into the meadow, across to the willow stump—
Then a stronger, yellower light than the moon stabbed the sky. Someone on the bridge had a searchlight, and Malcolm heard the sound of a gas engine.
“There they are,” said Asriel quietly. “Leave me here, Malcolm.”
“No! I got a better idea. Take my canoe and go down the river. Just get me back across to the other side first.”
The idea occurred to Malcolm in the same moment he said it.
“You sure?”
“You can go downstream a long way. They’ll never think of that. Come on!”
He stepped in and untied the painter, holding the boat tight to the bank while Asriel got in too; then Malcolm paddled swiftly and as quietly as he could across to the inn garden, though the current wanted to whirl him out into the open water, where they’d be visible from the bridge.
Asriel caught hold of the fixed line on the little jetty while Malcolm got out; then he let Malcolm hold the boat while he got in the right way round, took the paddle, and held out his hand to shake.
“I’ll get her back to you,” he said, and then he was gone, speeding with long, powerful strokes down the river on the swollen current, the leopard daemon like a great figurehead at the prow. La Belle Sauvage had never gone so fast, Malcolm thought.
Product details
- Publisher : Knopf Books for Young Readers; Illustrated edition (October 19, 2017)
- Language : English
- Hardcover : 464 pages
- ISBN-10 : 0375815309
- ISBN-13 : 978-0375815300
- Reading age : 14 - 17 years
- Lexile measure : HL770L
- Grade level : 9 - 12
- Item Weight : 1.6 pounds
- Dimensions : 6.25 x 1.5 x 9.25 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #176,064 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- Customer Reviews:
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About the author

PHILIP PULLMAN is one of the most acclaimed writers working today. He is best known for the His Dark Materials trilogy (The Golden Compass, The Subtle Knife, The Amber Spyglass), which has been named one of the top 100 novels of all time by Newsweek and one of the all-time greatest novels by Entertainment Weekly. He has also won many distinguished prizes, including the Carnegie Medal for The Golden Compass (and the reader-voted "Carnegie of Carnegies" for the best children's book of the past seventy years); the Whitbread (now Costa) Award for The Amber Spyglass; a Booker Prize long-list nomination (The Amber Spyglass); Parents' Choice Gold Awards (The Subtle Knife and The Amber Spyglass); and the Astrid Lindgren Memorial Award, in honor of his body of work. In 2004, he was appointed a Commander of the Order of the British Empire.
It has recently been announced that The Book of Dust, the much anticipated new book from Mr. Pullman, also set in the world of His Dark Materials, will be published as a major work in three parts, with the first part to arrive in October 2017.
Philip Pullman is the author of many other much-lauded novels. Other volumes related to His Dark Materials: Lyra’s Oxford, Once Upon a Time in the North, and The Collectors. For younger readers: I Was a Rat!; Count Karlstein; Two Crafty Criminals; Spring-Heeled Jack, and The Scarecrow and His Servant. For older readers: the Sally Lockhart quartet: The Ruby in the Smoke, The Shadow in the North, The Tiger in the Well, and The Tin Princess; The White Mercedes; and The Broken Bridge.
Philip Pullman lives in Oxford, England. To learn more, please visit philip-pullman.com and hisdarkmaterials.com. Or follow him on Twitter at @PhilipPullman.
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I’m definitely one of the latter. I came across The Golden Compass shortly after publication and fell madly in love with it, a feeling that only solidified when I read The Subtle Knife and The Amber Spyglass. Since then I’ve read the books and listened to the full-cast audio recordings many, many times. It is a comfort experience, one of solace, one that has me admiring the trilogy more and more with each encounter. When the play was put on at London’s National Theater I went. With heart in my throat I followed the controversies around the movie and finally went to see it — yes, reader, I was disappointed. And now I wait eagerly for the forthcoming BBC series.
All this is to say that I entered La Belle Sauvage with high hopes, with high fears, and with a deep knowledge and appreciation of the previous books and their world, characters, and themes. And so my response to the book is predicated on all of this. Someone on a different path will likely have a different response.
I began with some anxiety — it had been seventeen years after all–but it was like dropping into a scented warm bath surrounded by flickering candles — in other words, a delight. The world was that of His Dark Materials, the characters multi-faceted whether major or secondary. the pacing tense and urgent, the ideas demanding and true. Best of all is the writing — Pullman is a wordsmith like few others. Again and again I just stopped to reread a gorgeous sentence, to admire a word or phrase, a clever construction, or the elegant weaving of information. Just look at this very first sentence:
Three miles up the river Thames from the center of Oxford, some distance from where the great colleges of Jordan, Gabriel, Balliol, and two dozen others contended for mastery in the boat races, out where the city was only a collection of towers and spires in the distance over the misty levels of Port Meadow, there stood the Priory of Godstow, where the gentle nuns went about their holy business; and on the opposite bank from the priory there was an inn called the Trout.
Taking us from the great colleges to mastery of boat races to misty levels to gentle nuns he lands us at the unadorned (no adjectives for it) Trout. Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant. As a writer I aspire to create anything even remotely close to that opening.
Moving into the story proper we meet eleven-year-old Malcolm (and his daemon Asta) whose parents run the inn and so he works there too. As good in his own way as Lyra and Will, but a person distinctly all his own, this is a boy who is inquisitive, loves to make things, supremely sensible while also able to dream, honest (but able, in dire circumstances to lie effectively), solid (with adults and peers), and with a heart that is as big as the flood that comes midway in the story.
In the first half, Pullman chillingly evokes a time when the country is still nominally free, but the various ecclesiastical dark forces that figure so prominently in His Dark Materials (set around a decade later) are rearing their ugly heads. Familiar characters appear or are referred to, notably Mrs. Colter and Lord Asriel. But most of all there is Lyra, a beautifully realized baby of six months old. Pullman’s development of her character at this age is masterful — I mean, it isn’t easy to show personality with a child who doesn’t have words yet. I suspect it is his remarkable invention of daemons that makes this possible as he describes wondrous moments throughout the book of baby Lyra and baby Pantalaimon. At one point there is a description of the tiny daemon trying to change into another creature, but unable to because he doesn’t know it yet. At another point an adult points out that their babbling to each other (made me think of the private language that sometimes exists between twins) is a way of learning how to speak.
The plot involves saving the baby Lyra from the various nefarious people and organizations who are after her. Among them is an absolutely chilling villain (or malefactor as Malcolm might well call him), George Bonneville, who proves in horrific ways to be completely mad. Pullman sets things up in the first half of the book —- showing Malcolm’s cosy home life with his sensible parents, his enjoyment in helping out the nuns at the priory across the street (where he meets baby Lyra), his stolid firmness with friends and at school (where a creepy Hitler-Youth-like organization takes hold), and his handiness, especially with his beloved canoe, the eponymous La Belle Sauvage. And then things take off literally — there is flood of Biblical proportions and Malcolm along with Alice, a somewhat older and sulky worker in his parents’ inn, are off in the canoe to save Lyra. They are chased, they have narrow escapes, harrowing experiences, and otherworldly encounters.
I enjoyed every moment of the book which I both listened to and read on my Kindle (so as to avail myself of the highlighting option). I attempted to savor it, but it was impossible to slow down during the second half any more than could the children in the canoe as it was born away in the raging flood. Now I’m planning to go back and listen to it again. (I am such a speedy readers that I love listening, especially when the writing is gorgeous, as it is much slower.) And again — in preparation for the next in The Book of Dust, set evidently some twenty years later. I waited seventeen years for this one so I think I can wait a bit longer for the next one.
Thank you, Philip Pullman, for giving all of us, so completely and wonderfully, this chance to be lost again in your remarkable literary world.
Here’s an example of what makes Philip Pullman’s writing so special. It’s early in the first volume of his new fantasy trilogy, The Book of Dust. Malcolm, eleven years old and the son of an innkeeper, is the protagonist. He’s rock solid, good and decent, and observant beyond his years. As in the previous trilogy, His Dark Materials, Malcolm, like everybody in this imagined world, has his own daemon, an opposite sex animal familiar tied to him both geographically (if the familiar moves away from her master, the master must follow) and psychically. The choice of animal for one’s daemon tells something about one’s character. Later in the book, the evil Gerard Bonneville is revealed as having a hyena as his daemon, and unlike the closeness that exists between other masters and their daemons, Bonneville abuses his.
Now to the example I promised. Malcolm has just been permitted to see the little baby, six-months-old Lyra, who is being cared for in a nunnery near his father’s inn. Read on.
"Malcolm had never seen a baby at close quarters, and he was struck at once by how real she seemed. He knew that would be a silly thing to say, so he held his tongue, but that was his impression all the same: it was unexpected that something so small should be so perfectly formed. … Her daemon, the chick of a small bird like a swallow, was asleep with her, but as soon as Asta [Malcolm’s familiar] flew down, swallow-shaped too, and perched on the edge of the crib, the chick woke up and opened his yellow beak wide for food. Malcolm laughed, and that woke the baby, and seeing his laughing face, she began to laugh too. Asta pretended to snap at a small insect and thrust it down the baby daemon’s gaping mouth, which satisfied him, making Malcolm laugh harder, and then the baby laughed so hard she got the hiccups, and every time she hicked, the daemon jumped.
“ 'There, there,' said Sister Fenella, and bent to pick her up; but as she lifted the baby, Lyra’s little face crumpled into an expression of grief and terror, and she reached round for her daemon, nearly twisting herself out of the nun’s arms. Astra was ahead of her: she took the little chick in her mouth and flew to place him on the baby’s chest, at which point he turned into a miniature tiger cub and hissed and bared his teeth at everyone. All the baby’s dismay vanished at once, and she lay in Sister Fenella’s arms, looking around with a lordly complacency.
Malcolm was enchanted. Everything about her was perfect and delighted him."
That’s magical: simply presented but with an aura of wonder to it. And even as the scene is being set –a young boy seeing a baby for the first time—magic (the daemons) intrudes on the scene. You have also a sense of what Malcolm is like and a vague premonition that Lyra’s and Malcolm’s relationship will be important to the rest of the book, probably –possibly? —across the remaining books of this trilogy as well.
La Belle Sauvage (the name of Malcolm’s most treasured possession, a canoe) inhabits the same world of magic-physics as the preceding trilogy –sub-atomic dust leaking in through cracks of the world, scientists’ exploitation of the uncertainty principle, a weird but believable instrument that lies half way between astrology and physics and is called the alethiometer, which measures truth but uncertainly. The events of this series take place earlier than the happenings of the previous series but the enemy is the same: a devouring church hierarchy cracks down on heresy, cowing young and old as efficiently as ever did Torquemada. (“How can knowing something be sinful?” Malcolm asks one time.)
The first trilogy, His Dark Materials, came close to saving my sanity. It came out when I was leaving for Dubai to take a job twelve time zones away from my family. I was lonely! I needed something all-consuming to read to take my mind off my isolation. I finished the first installment on the plane ride over (twenty-one hours, seventeen on the plane); the second, soon after I arrived; and the third, as soon as it came out --in England, not the United States –it came out there earlier. Like those books, La Belle Sauvage offers small (turns of phrase, particular descriptions of places or people) and large (scary, powerful bad guys, and good guys with interesting characters and pasts; a large-scale, almost cosmic fight for noble goals) pleasures. It will keep the reader reading from start to end with no stop.
Top reviews from other countries


The answer for this book at least is somewhere in between. The hero is Malcolm, a boy working at his parents' inn and helping out with oddjobs at the local nunnery. Malcolm is a nice, unassuming lad who makes a good central character as he is immediately sympathetic. He reminds me of Will, the hero in the 'His Dark Materials' trilogy. Some of the characters from the main series appear here, including Lord Asriel and Mrs Coulter, although not in major roles. Lyra, the star of the original novels, has plenty of page time but is only a small baby so doesn't get to shine in her own right.
The novel is exciting and bowls along at a good pace. The problem is that, as with any prequel, you know where it is heading. That takes away some of the tension because you know things have to turn out in a certain way. To really succeed, these books would need to find some sort of compelling subplot that doesn't have an immediate link-through the original series and thus hasn't already been spoiled for readers. There isn't that here. However, it is only the first book of three and it's quite possible the story will build and improve throughout the series, which was the case in the original as well.
It's certainly a good fantasy adventure and one you'll enjoy reading if you like this genre. It isn't outstanding and it isn't in the same league as the original set of books - but there is potential. I'll certainly want to read the next ones.

While a separate and enjoyable story in its own right, several of the themes and characters have a lot more meaning if you have read the original trilogy, which I think will be more important as the series progresses (with the next books taking place after His Dark Materials, while this takes place before). That said, even a fairly rudimentary memory of the original story will more than suffice to equip readers for La Belle Sauvage, as we are thrown into the midst a catastrophic flood that seems set to alter the course of history in this alternate version of Britain.
The plot of the book itself is simple enough, but a lot of Pullman's strength lies in his character work and careful implementation of deeper themes and ideas into his stories. I believe the latter is lacking here, perhaps intentionally so as (much like Northern Lights) this is the first book in a trilogy and so serves more to simply introduce us to the major characters involved. In this, it does very well as grow gradually more attached to protaganists Malcolm and Alice as they experience numerous trials and develop as characters. I personally can't wait to read more about them, and how they tie into Lyra's world.
The scope of the book may be less ambitious than fans of the series were hoping for, but I'm glad Pullman chose to start the new trilogy on a small scale so readers could really get to know the new characters before the next books start tackle more complex themes. I loved it and cannot wait to read to more.

It's OK, but for me, it wasn't great. It is undoubtedly well written, but I wonder if I was expecting too much from it after having enjoyed His Dark Materials so much.
Maybe I need to wait for the other books that are yet to come..... its hard to say.
What I do know is that at the moment, I'm not planning to re-read this, whereas I've read His Dark Materials numerous times.

And what was that really stupid fairy all about?
Shoddy, in a word.