Pullman doesn't seem to realize that this is the last book of the series and that, as such, the reader is extremely eager to find out how this whole thing will be resolved. In other words, why won't this stupid chapter about the wheeled creatures end already?! I want to see the war!
>...and then the pressure of his grief would crush him to the ground, and he'd remember every instance of kindness and courage that Baruch had ever shown, and there were thousands, and he'd forgotten none of them; and he'd cry that a nature so gracious could never be snuffed out, and he'd soar into the skies again, casting about in every direction, reckless and wild and stricken, cursing the very air, the clouds, the stars.
When I met Philip Pullman he made fun of my name. Asked if, because my name is Adam, anyone ever called me Madame, to which every other 14 year old in line laughed. Then he signed my book, and a decade later I have lost my religion, opened my mind to philosophy and science, and come to an understanding of "The Death of God" as something very personal and very liberating - all because of the seed planted by these books. Thank you, Philip Pullman. Oh, and I'm never selling my first editions.