Pullman gives God a break for Easter

Several years ago, Philip Pullman wrote that '"Thou shalt not" might reach the head, but it takes "Once upon a time" to reach the heart.' Now, the prizewinning author and self-appointed scourge of God is preparing to unveil the latest episode from the universe of His Dark Materials, called Once Upon a Time in the North.

With Easter upon us, the Church might be relieved to hear that God doesn't get a look in.

The writer whom Peter Hitchens once called 'the one the atheists would have been praying for, if atheists prayed' is leaving Him alone for now. On paper, anyway. Instead, it is politicians who should be worried, for the Pullman barrage appears to have rumbled on to their turf.

In the time it takes to make a plunger of coffee I learn a lot about the failure of Kent's local authorities to enforce carbon-capture clauses on the plans for a new E.ON power station. Later, the conversation roams unsparingly through officialdom and encroaching regulation (especially in the national curriculum), crass sloganeering and political unspeak ('Tony Blair was a great bullshitter'), and ID cards: 'I'd go to jail rather than have an identity card.' 'I'll hold you to that.' 'Good. Absolutely.' While these are not quite themes of the new book, diehard fans of His Dark Materials may be a little disappointed at the prevalence of what, in the circumstances, might be deemed 'reality'. A raft of era-defining background issues: oil-rich lands, race hate, private security firms. 'Globalisation, big corporations taking over. . . These are the things I think about and I naturally found myself writing about them.' What's more, though Once Upon a Time in the North has more cut and thrust than Lyra's Oxford, at 112 (small) pages it amounts to little more than a free-standing chapter of Northern Lights, The Subtle Knife or The Amber Spyglass.

Still, as chapters go, it's good reading: an oldschool Western-style adventure, replete with pretty women, crooked politicians and hired guns. Uncomplicated, uncompromising stuff.

It tells the story -- as requested by Pullman's thirty-something son -- of an early voyage by the Texan balloonist Lee Scoresby, and his first meeting with Iorek Byrnison, the armoured bear, on the White Sea island of Novy Odense.

(These two characters subsequently become brothers in arms and principal companions in the various travails of Lyra Belacqua, heroine of the His Dark Materials trilogy. ) In the new book, the pair, finding that their interests mutually coincide with those of a Dutch merchant whose cargo has been illegally impounded, pool their strengths, automatically and almost wordlessly, in defence of the little man.

'I stole the idea from The Magnificent Seven.

There's a moment there when the two main characters, Yul Brynner and Steve McQueen, who've never met before, join forces in this sort of laconic way, to get something done.' Pullman has often said that the first four words of Northern Lights -- 'Lyra and her dæmon. . . ' -- defined the whole book. Here, he opens with 'The battered cargo balloon. . . '.

'It's not a smart new piece of equipment; it's a shabby, patched up, botched together, hanging-on-by-its-toenails bit of old kit that he's won in a poker game. And it's not a balloon for sightseeing or exploring; it's a cargo balloon, and Scoresby's a working man.' Every hero needs his weapons, of course.

In hero lore, weapons -- and the gaining of them -- are often emblematic of their owners (much like the dæmons in His Dark Materials).

The winning of the balloon and the gift of a Winchester rifle (from the Dutchman) both prefigure Scoresby's eventual death, especially since he dies using them once again to defend someone else's cause, for no material gain.

Scoresby is supposed to be a mercenary, though, and you have to wonder how he breaks even. Noble deaths make for great movies, but they don't tend to pay the bills.

'That's right. It wasn't until I was well into this book that I realised it was about honour.

Lee follows a pattern here that he's going to follow throughout his life. He's always going to do the honourable thing, but reluctantly.' He knows where the money is, and knows it's nowhere near him.

'Time and again in this story he's given the chance to behave dishonourably, and doesn't do it. But that's Lee. He would be tempted by all sorts of things: women, money, gambling, whatever. And from time to time he'd give in to these temptations, if it wasn't going to hurt anyone. But he's a man of honour, a man of rock-hard integrity.' Given that a new episode in the His Dark Materials universe could have fallen anywhere and used any characters, is this a purposeful move away from the innocent Lyra as the central figure? Whatever else he may be, Scoresby is decidedly not innocent.

'No, he's not a Boy Scout, ' agrees Pullman, but he challenges my suggestion that a man who drinks, gambles, brawls and admires ladies' legs might be deemed politically incorrect nowadays in a heroic role.