Things are collapsing in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that seems, in this volume especially, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and troubling lines. An invisible force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from authorities, and accumulating in the offices of religious leaders, the vaults of corporations, the hands of crowds. "Something is at work, silently, gradually", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and solid are deteriorating and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and Her Quest
Just what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that propels the concluding book, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth concluded. This is, reportedly, the author's final foray into the elaborately built, deeply captivating world he first introduced in the distant past, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose terrain corresponds to that of our world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the individuals appear and think and act like us, but are paired by external spirits, souls in creature form; where the air are populated with witches and mythical beasts, but below, vehicles are ridden and tea is consumed, and mature scholars carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the first trilogy, and then saw again as a baby in the first volume, the prequel with which the author began the series, is now a young woman: still clearly the spiky and persistent main character of the prior volumes, but aged, melancholic, more careful, more doubtful. This circumscription is amplified by her separation from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to leave in quest of that youthful part of her which she may have forgotten (an quality which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her journey to reunite with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which followed the protagonist undertake a adventurous journey across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with wonder and danger on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in motion, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the religious governing authority, and the author's brilliantly sinister incarnation of strict, procedural malice – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's family member, who faults her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of leader of the authority's High Council, and is intent on using his newfound power to expand the church's dominium. A key character, who rescued young Lyra to safety along a swollen river as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a secondary role in intelligence work: he is sent to Geneva to discover more about the antagonist's intentions. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and precious rose oil which manifests in some way to be the source of a social and economic upheaval emanating out from that area. The oil is seen by some as a marketable good, by alternate groups as a empirical or mystical phenomenon, and by others still – the zealous "highland figures" – as a source of malevolence; an insult that must be destroyed. The question of its source, what it stands for, and if it should be removed or protected is becoming urgent.
Like the first series, the heroine's deeds, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be inseparably entwined with the destiny of the world
In the previous volume, these plots ran broadly in tandem. In this final book, they come together. Similar to the first trilogy, the protagonist's choices and her fate are unveiled to be deeply entwined with the fate of the world. Her individual journey to rejoin with her soul and recover her vision becomes the central struggle in a larger war with an oppressive government which, as such authorities typically do, is attempting to quell freedom of thought, originality and culture: all the personal, rebellious ways in which humans can be independent.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The novel begins with the finding of a set of unusual cracks in the makeup of the world's sky: portals that appear to lead to other worlds. One such opening appears to be the source of the much debated botanical substance. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its head, classifies these portals as a problem to the church's doctrine and endeavors to eradicate them. As our protagonist begins to move from strict logic and back to feeling, nevertheless, her belief that these places must be defended – that their meaning and what they offer is mysteriously vital – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we require it." The scene for a philosophical tussle between naivety and experience is established.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
