Things are collapsing in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that seems, in this volume especially, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Organizations are failing, or reorganizing themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Control is shifting from authorities, and gathering in the halls of theocrats, the vaults of conglomerates, the grasp of crowds. "An element is at work, very quietly, imperceptibly", says merchant a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were secure and solid are weakening and giving way."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the question that animates this final volume, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final foray into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling realm he first revealed three decades past, with the publication of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose landscape aligns with that of our world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals look and reason and act like us, but are paired by daemons, essences in animal form; where the air are filled with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, transports are taken and tea is sipped, and mature academics carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first encountered as a young girl in the first trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the prequel, the introductory book with which the author began the series, is now a adult: still clearly the sharp and determined protagonist of the prior volumes, but aged, sadder, more cautious, less certain. This limitation is heightened by her division from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which made him desert her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
His choice to leave in quest of that innocent part of her which she appears to have shed (an quality which he represents as her "imagination"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which saw the protagonist undertake a picaresque journey across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with wonder and danger on the way. But from the beginning, deeper currents were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the religious governing authority, and Pullman's masterfully eerie embodiment of austere, administrative evil – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's relative, who holds responsible her for his sibling's death – has positioned himself into the position of president of the authority's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his recently acquired authority to extend the church's control. Malcolm Polstead, who saved baby Lyra to refuge along a swollen Thames as an child in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a additional duty in espionage: he is assigned to a key location to find out more about the antagonist's plans. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and valuable essential oil which appears somehow to be the source of a societal and financial upheaval emanating out from the region. The extract is seen by certain groups as a marketable good, by different parties as a scientific or spiritual wonder, and by further factions – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of evil; an affront that must be obliterated. The dilemma of where it comes from, its meaning, and whether it should be destroyed or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.
Similar to the original trilogy, the heroine's actions, and her fate, are revealed to be deeply entwined with the fate of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran mostly in side by side. In this final book, they come together. As in the original series, Lyra's choices and her path are revealed to be inseparably entwined with the fate of the world. Her individual journey to reconnect with her companion and recover her vision becomes the central struggle in a larger conflict with an oppressive regime which, as such regimes typically do, is attempting to quell autonomy of thinking, creativity and culture: all the inner, rebellious ways in which people can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The book starts with the discovery of a collection of strange openings in the makeup of the planet's sky: portals that look to lead to alternate realities. An example of a portal appears to be the origin of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The authority, with the antagonist at its leadership, designates these openings as a threat to the church's doctrine and aims to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to move from strict reason and return to instinct, however, her certainty that these locations must be protected – that their significance and their value is somehow essential – increases. "The substance, or the substance, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a Blakean struggle between naivety and knowledge is prepared.
Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
