Another triumph, and yet so different to the novel that came before it. Most striking to me now, as an adult, is the way in which Pullman begins his sequel to a bestselling novel... by immediately situating himself in an entirely different tradition of fantasy. A gusty move, you might say. 
 In the first volume, the Northern Lights, we have a traditional, Tolkien-esque secondary world; we are presented with Lyra's Oxford, full of armoured bears, naptha lamps, and daemons, without any explanation nor a need for one. It is a world of make believe and we accept it, which creates a wondrous, fairytale quality to proceedings, even when horrible things happen. 
 The Subtle Knife, however, is in a different vein. This is the more traditional children's form of fantasy: a hidden world ("the Narnia template", if you like). Here, our protagonist Will is growing up on an Earth that is recognisably our own, and he steps through a door to somewhere else. I read dozens of these sorts of books as a child, and I suppose there is something of a childish wish-fulfilment in it. Every kid longs to receive their letter from Hogwarts after all, fantasising about the possibility of walking out of their own life and into another more exciting one. That transitional threshold makes the fantasy more tangible. 
 The interesting distinction here is that this seems to remove a lot of the gloss from Pullman's story. Rather than being the more childish and wondrous of the two books, The Subtle Knife is the more grounded. Twelve year old Will feels immediately real, and his early struggles to care for his mentally ill mother are deeply affecting, in a way that Lyra's orphan status, growing up parentless in a fantasy version of Oxford, feels whimsical. When Lyra runs off by herself it is on a fantasy adventure; when Will flees his home after accidentally killing a man, he is desperate and alone. When Lyra receives her magical item (the alethiometer) it is given to her in the dead of night, wrapped in a velvet cloth; when Will receives the Subtle Knife, it is after a fight for his life during which he is mutilated. 
 As such the The Subtle Knife is a much harder book than its predecessor, and when Will's world collides with Lyra's I felt - and still feel - like the land of armoured bears and daemons had been pulled ot the ground with a bump. I didn't enjoy The Subtle Knife as much when I was younger for just that reason, I think, but I found it more thrilling, more difficult, and that remains true today. It's a terrifically brave move for an author to make, to change tone so firmly, but I cannot deny that this is a terrific novel. 
 Pullman is interesting as a novelist because he does an awful lot of "telling" (generally regarded by creative writing teachers as something of a cardinal sin - if you will excuse the unintentional pun). He will gallop through plot and events that many think sound exciting and ripe for exploration, and yet still has enough ideas left over to create some of the most striking sequences in children's literature. The cat in the hornbeam trees; Will wandering the deserted streets of Citegazze; Lee Scoresby and Hester in the ravine. Pullman's power to both enchant and break your heart remain undiminished. 
 This is a less complete novel than its predecessor and a messier one, branching suddenly outward, introducing more characters and perspectives, throwing balls up into the air, rather than catching them (or in other words: it is the middle volume of a trilogy), but I adore it all nonetheless.