Things are unraveling in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a realm that seems, here more than ever, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Establishments are failing, or reorganizing themselves along new and disquieting lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from authorities, and accumulating in the halls of theocrats, the vaults of corporations, the control of mobs. "An element is at work, very quietly, imperceptibly", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and durable are faltering and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that animates this final volume, which resumes where its predecessor ended. This is, by all accounts, the author's last venture into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting world he first unveiled in the distant past, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose landscape corresponds to that of our world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the individuals look and reason and act like us, but are joined by daemons, beings in creature form; where the air are filled with witches and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, buses are ridden and tea is consumed, and older academics carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in the first volume, the prequel with which the author began the series, is now a young woman: still recognisably the sharp and tenacious main character of the earlier books, but more mature, melancholic, more cautious, less certain. This limitation is heightened by her split from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
His choice to leave in quest of that childlike part of the heroine which she may have forgotten (an quality which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw Lyra undertake a picaresque journey across Europe and into the mountain region, meeting with amazement and danger on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in action, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the religious governing authority, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister incarnation of rigid, procedural evil – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's relative, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the office of head of the authority's governing body, and is intent on using his fresh influence to expand the institution's rule. A key character, who carried baby Lyra to refuge along a overflowing river as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is sent to the city to discover more about his aims. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and costly essential oil which appears mysteriously to be the cause of a societal and economic crisis spreading out from Central Asia. The oil is seen by various factions as a marketable good, by others as a research-based or esoteric miracle, and by yet others – the extremist "highland figures" – as a origin of evil; an insult that must be obliterated. The dilemma of its origins, what it stands for, and whether it should be eliminated or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
Similar to His Dark Materials, the heroine's actions, and her future, are shown to be deeply connected with the fate of the world
In its predecessor, these narratives ran mostly in parallel. In this final book, they converge. Like His Dark Materials, her movements and her path are unveiled to be deeply linked with the fate of the realm. Her personal journey to reunite with her daemon and recover her vision becomes the primary conflict in a broader battle with an authoritarian system which, as such regimes always have, is attempting to stifle independence of reason, creativity and expression: all the inner, defiant ways in which people can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The story begins with the discovery of a collection of unusual openings in the structure of the planet's sky: windows that appear to lead to alternate realities. An example of a window seems to be the source of the highly contested mystical extract. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its head, classifies these openings as a challenge to the religion's doctrine and endeavors to eradicate them. As our protagonist begins to shift from inflexible logic and return to instinct, nevertheless, her certainty that these sites must be protected – that what they stand for and what they offer is mysteriously vital – increases. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or whatever we call it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a Blakean tussle between purity and maturity is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
