Well, I adore Pullman and the His Dark Materials trilogy, though rather more for their aesthetic gifts than their theological perspectives. I love his imagination, in inventing the alternate Oxford, the alethiometer, the daemons, the world of the polar bears; I love his characters, the wonderful Lyra, fierce Will, surprising Mrs. Coulter; I love his always knife-sharp and clean writing, even if I disagree about the uses to which he turns it; and I love his plotting, the reversals and tension and shimmering emotion. (The Pullman books are the only books besides HP where I have found myself literally shaking with the suspense of what I was reading.) All of his novels share these virtues, so if you dislike HDM, please don't give up on Pullman altogether -- the Sally Lockhart novels and CLOCKWORK and THE FIREWORK-MAKER'S DAUGHTER, among others, are great, enjoyable reads without the troublesome theological dimensions.
I also love the idea of Dust equalling dark matter equalling the dust from which Adam and Eve were formed equalling the adult consciousness that comes with puberty. Although the plot requirements and theological implications of this are troubling -- it means that despite their age, Lyra and Will *have* to have a sexual awakening both to fulfill the Eve parallel and to achieve adult consciousness (as Pullman sees sexuality as a part of that) -- I find it a fascinating and original thought about self-knowledge in both the Biblical story and adolescent development. (I also think they're thirteen or fourteen, not twelve, but again, I don't have my books to verify this -- and that's hardly better, I know.)
And I love (sorry to keep going on) the idea of the Republic of Heaven and the values it requires of its citizens -- which, as Lyra lists them at the end of SPYGLASS, come down to love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, and self-control. Pullman certainly errs mightily in not seeing that these are values of the Kingdom of Heaven as well; but if he *must* choose to be violently atheist, I'm glad he provides a model in which the results on earth are the same! (There's a very interesting comparison to be made of the definition and uses of love in both Pullman and Lewis -- I don't know enough about the latter to make it, alas, but I'd be delighted to read it.)
But, on the other side, I always find it hypocritical of Pullman to accuse Lewis of sexism, because of the way Pullman himself steadily diminishes Lyra from the smart, strong, kick-butt protagonist of GOLDEN COMPASS to Will's adoring adjunct and handmaiden in AMBER SPYGLASS. If I recall aright (my books are on loan), as soon as Will is introduced, the alethiometer tells Lyra that she must abandon her quest and help him. While Will charges around having adventures in the first third of AMBER SPYGLASS, Lyra is held in a drugged sleep (nothing more passive than that). When she and Will fall in love at the end of the book, her beauty is noted far more than her other admirable qualities. And -- the thing I *really, really* hate -- in both AMBER SPYGLASS and the follow-up, LYRA'S OXFORD, Lyra thinks "What would Will do?" and how she must try to "be like Will," when in GOLDEN COMPASS she had more than enough imagination and bravery of her own.
So, as a rule, I don't think any author is perfect when judged by one's personal philosophical standards (unless that author has formed those standards in one, of course). But I try to love each one for the gifts they bring and the thoughts they inspire, recognize their limits, and set aside the rest.
A vote for and against Pullman
I also love the idea of Dust equalling dark matter equalling the dust from which Adam and Eve were formed equalling the adult consciousness that comes with puberty. Although the plot requirements and theological implications of this are troubling -- it means that despite their age, Lyra and Will *have* to have a sexual awakening both to fulfill the Eve parallel and to achieve adult consciousness (as Pullman sees sexuality as a part of that) -- I find it a fascinating and original thought about self-knowledge in both the Biblical story and adolescent development. (I also think they're thirteen or fourteen, not twelve, but again, I don't have my books to verify this -- and that's hardly better, I know.)
And I love (sorry to keep going on) the idea of the Republic of Heaven and the values it requires of its citizens -- which, as Lyra lists them at the end of SPYGLASS, come down to love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, and self-control. Pullman certainly errs mightily in not seeing that these are values of the Kingdom of Heaven as well; but if he *must* choose to be violently atheist, I'm glad he provides a model in which the results on earth are the same! (There's a very interesting comparison to be made of the definition and uses of love in both Pullman and Lewis -- I don't know enough about the latter to make it, alas, but I'd be delighted to read it.)
But, on the other side, I always find it hypocritical of Pullman to accuse Lewis of sexism, because of the way Pullman himself steadily diminishes Lyra from the smart, strong, kick-butt protagonist of GOLDEN COMPASS to Will's adoring adjunct and handmaiden in AMBER SPYGLASS. If I recall aright (my books are on loan), as soon as Will is introduced, the alethiometer tells Lyra that she must abandon her quest and help him. While Will charges around having adventures in the first third of AMBER SPYGLASS, Lyra is held in a drugged sleep (nothing more passive than that). When she and Will fall in love at the end of the book, her beauty is noted far more than her other admirable qualities. And -- the thing I *really, really* hate -- in both AMBER SPYGLASS and the follow-up, LYRA'S OXFORD, Lyra thinks "What would Will do?" and how she must try to "be like Will," when in GOLDEN COMPASS she had more than enough imagination and bravery of her own.
So, as a rule, I don't think any author is perfect when judged by one's personal philosophical standards (unless that author has formed those standards in one, of course). But I try to love each one for the gifts they bring and the thoughts they inspire, recognize their limits, and set aside the rest.
Cheryl