Things are falling apart in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that manifests, here more than ever, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Establishments are failing, or reorganizing themselves along novel and troubling lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from states, and accumulating in the offices of religious leaders, the vaults of corporations, the grasp of crowds. "Some force is at work, stealthily, very subtly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and strong are weakening and failing."
The Central Mystery and Her Quest
Precisely what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that animates the concluding book, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final venture into the elaborately built, infinitely beguiling world he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a world whose landscape corresponds to that of this world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and think and act like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, beings in animal form; where the air are populated with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but below, transports are ridden and beverages is drunk, and older academics carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in the first volume, the introductory book with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still clearly the prickly and tenacious heroine of the previous installments, but aged, sadder, more cautious, more doubtful. This limitation is heightened by her separation from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
The daemon's resolve to depart in quest of that youthful part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an trait which he symbolizes as her "creativity"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a wandering voyage across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with amazement and risk on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in action, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the faith's governing authority, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister representation of austere, procedural malice – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's family member, who faults her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the position of head of the church's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his fresh influence to expand the religion's control. Another protagonist, who saved infant the heroine to safety along a swollen river as an young boy in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a secondary role in espionage: he is sent to the city to learn more about his plans. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and costly essential oil which appears somehow to be the cause of a societal and financial upheaval emanating out from Central Asia. The extract is seen by certain groups as a marketable commodity, by different parties as a scientific or esoteric miracle, and by further factions – the zealous "highland figures" – as a wellspring of evil; an affront that must be eradicated. The issue of where it comes from, its meaning, and if it should be removed or preserved is escalating in importance.
As in the original trilogy, our protagonist's deeds, and her destiny, are shown to be deeply connected with the fate of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran broadly in parallel. In this final book, they converge. Like the original series, her movements and her path are shown to be inseparably entwined with the future of the realm. Her private mission to reunite with her daemon and regain her creativity becomes the key struggle in a broader battle with an controlling system which, as such regimes always have, is striving to quell independence of thought, creativity and expression: all the personal, rebellious ways in which humans can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The story starts with the unveiling of a series of unusual openings in the makeup of the world's atmosphere: windows that look to give on to alternate realities. One such opening manifests to be the source of the highly contested botanical substance. The authority, with Delamare at its leadership, labels these windows as a challenge to the religion's beliefs and endeavors to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to move from inflexible reason and return to instinct, nevertheless, her conviction that these places must be protected – that their meaning and what they offer is somehow crucial – increases. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a poetic conflict between naivety and maturity is set.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
