Things are collapsing in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a world that seems, here more than ever, as a intense and slanted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from authorities, and gathering in the chambers of religious leaders, the vaults of business empires, the control of crowds. "Some force is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says trader a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and durable are deteriorating and collapsing."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the question that propels this final volume, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's last excursion into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling world he first introduced three decades past, with the publication of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose geography aligns with that of the real world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans appear and think and act like us, but are accompanied by daemons, essences in creature form; where the air are filled with witches and mythical beasts, but underneath, buses are caught and drinks is consumed, and older academics carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in the prequel, the introductory book with which Pullman began the series, is now a young woman: still recognisably the prickly and tenacious main character of the previous installments, but more mature, melancholic, more careful, less sure. This limitation is heightened by her separation from her daemon, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the cause which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
His choice to go off in pursuit of that childlike part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an quality which he represents as her "creativity"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which saw Lyra undertake a adventurous voyage across the continent and into the mountain region, meeting with amazement and risk on the way. But from the beginning, profound shifts were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the church's governing authority, and Pullman's deliciously chilling incarnation of rigid, bureaucratic malice – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. The antagonist – the heroine's relative, who holds responsible her for his sibling's death – has positioned himself into the position of president of the Magisterium's governing body, and is determined on using his newfound power to extend the religion's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued baby Lyra to security along a overflowing river as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an university scholar with a secondary role in intelligence work: he is sent to a key location to find out more about his plans. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and valuable rose oil which appears somehow to be the source of a societal and economic crisis spreading out from the region. The extract is regarded by certain groups as a commercial commodity, by different parties as a scientific or esoteric wonder, and by yet others – the zealous "highland figures" – as a source of malevolence; an affront that must be obliterated. The question of its source, its meaning, and whether it should be eliminated or preserved is escalating in importance.
Like the original trilogy, Lyra's decisions, and her future, are revealed to be deeply linked with the future of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran broadly in side by side. In this final book, they merge. Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's movements and her destiny are revealed to be inseparably entwined with the fate of the realm. Her personal mission to reunite with her soul and recover her vision becomes the key conflict in a broader war with an oppressive government which, as such regimes often attempt, is striving to quell independence of thinking, innovation and art: all the personal, rebellious ways in which people can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The book starts with the finding of a series of curious cracks in the makeup of the planet's sky: portals that appear to lead to different dimensions. A particular window seems to be the point of the highly contested mystical extract. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its helm, designates these openings as a threat to the institution's orthodoxy and sets out to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to shift from strict logic and back to instinct, however, her conviction that these places must be defended – that what they stand for and their value is mysteriously essential – increases. "Dust, or the extract, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or whatever we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a philosophical tussle between innocence and experience is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
