Afterword

I said at the top of this story that I wrote it in response to a number of questions that I had asked myself. Those questions were (warning – spoilers ahead):

What happened when Arthur met Lyra?
Was Lizzie really the king's mistress?
Why did King Alfred attend Lyra's funeral? (I warned you about spoilers…)
How did Victor Reigali win the heart of Guilietta Bellini?
What was Will and Judy's marriage like for them? How did Judy cope with the Lyra situation?
What social changes occurred in Lyra's world after the fall of the Magisterium and the destruction of the Subtle Knife?
Isn't it about time I wrote a Lyra-centric story?

And:

How could I write a story that (credibly) featured Peter Joyce's favourite chewy word; disestablishmentarianism? smirk

I have, as usual, borrowed shamelessly from writers in addition to Philip Pullman; notably Mervyn Peake (my versions of Lyra's Palace of Westminster and Jordan College are more than a little Gormenghastly) and Cordwainer Smith (whose planoforming starships are commanded by go- and stop-captains). The relationship between the human pinlighters and the cats who fight the dragons of Space2 in Cordwainer Smith's wonderful story The Game of Rat and Dragon is not so very far removed from that of the humans and their daemons in Lyra's world. I wonder if PP has read it?

On Disestablishmentarianism

Compared with ours, history ran a very different course in Lyra's world after the forging of the Knife of the Torre degli Angeli. In this world, the relationship between Church and State in England has long been well established – bishops sit in the House of Lords and the Queen is the head of the Church of England as well as the Government. But although the idea of disestablishment has been in the air for some centuries it has never got very far in our England, because the power of the Church has never been exercised in Government to the corrupt extent that I have proposed it would have been in Lyra's world, where the secular interests of the Magisterium were so much greater. The dissolution of the monasteries and the seizure of their assets was one of Henry VIII's main aims when he made himself head of the Church; besides making it possible for him to marry a Queen who would give him a son. I wonder if he would have done any differently had he known that Edward VI would be such an ineffectual ruler and die young, while Elizabeth I became one of the greatest monarchs that this country has ever known.

Should the Church of England be disestablished here and now in our world? Most British people would say they have no view on the subject. This is not a religious country, nor is it one that goes in for revolutions. For myself; I prefer the connection between Church and State to be open and visible, rather than a matter of secret influence and sponsored lobbying, so I'm not convinced that Alfred was doing the right thing.

On Alethiometry

I've always thought that the alethiometer, although it's a really neat idea, is a bit of a plot-killer. It's rather like having the author whisper in Lyra's ear – 'This is what's going on. Here is what you should do next.' It's not surprising that PP arranges his story so that the alethiometer is unavailable from time to time. He has to do the same sort of thing with the Knife, which is such a nifty get-out-of-gaol device, by breaking it.

I thought it would be fun to invent some limitations in the divining of the oracle. I'm sorry if you think I've corrupted PP's concept of how the alethiometer works, but I prefer to regard myself as having taken the opportunity to fill in some of the gaps in what he tells us about it.

On Pronunciations

Philip Pullman provides only one formal indication of pronunciation – he tells us how to say daemon. I thought the first e in alethiometer was short until I heard PP pronounce it long – aleethiometer. Likewise Iorek – it should sound like Yorick, Hamlet's jester, not eye-o-rek, and the Subtle Knife was made in Chittagahtzay, not Sittagazzee. Serafina Pekkala's first name is Serafeenah.

Actually, PP drops some useful clues in the text. We know that daemon is pronounced demon because Will has to be told so in TSK. And the Lyra-liar connection is enough to prevent us from saying Leerah.

To avoid confusion this is (with all due respect) how I think you should say the names I have used in my stories:

The i in Viola (Peter Joyce's squirrel-daemon) is pronounced as eye – Veye-ola.
Arthur's second name rhymes with clear. People often misspell it Sheer.
Guilietta – the G is pronounced as a slightly soft J – Julietta.
Giancarlo and Giovanni – the G is very soft indeed, like a less aspirant version of Shiancarlo or Shiovanni. If you know French, it's like Je in Je suis. If you speak Italian you know this already…
Parander – should be pronounced with equal emphasis on all three syllables. This is easy for Americans; less so for the English who tend to emphasise the first syllable and slur the rest.
Cholmondley – Chummley. This is an old chestnut. See also Featherstonehaugh, Marjoribanks and Caius (Fanshaw, Marchbanks and Keys).
Caester – Kester.
Rosalind – Rozzalind.
Skaven – Skayven.

The Irish words and names I used in A Gift of Love are pronounced in the expected way:

Eire – Airah
Cill Airne – Killarney
Dun Loaghaire – Dun Leerey
Baile atha Cliath – Dublin
Failte – faulta
Siobhan – Shevorn
Tir-na-nÒg – Tir rhymes with year. Ò sounds as Oh.

I have adopted antique or cod-Latin names for various places in Brytain, where PP has left me free to do so. If I had my way, Oxford would be known as Oxenford and London would be Londinium.

This is not the end of the story! It continues in The Clockmaker's Boy, also on Fanfiction.net.

Ceres Wunderkind (Serrays Voonderkindt), January 2003