Things are collapsing in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that appears, here more than ever, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Establishments are failing, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from authorities, and pooling in the offices of theocrats, the coffers of business empires, the control of mobs. "An element is at work, stealthily, gradually", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and durable are deteriorating and collapsing."
The Central Mystery and The Protagonist's Path
Exactly what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that drives the concluding book, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, by all accounts, the author's concluding venture into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling universe he first introduced in the distant past, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose landscape aligns with that of the real world, but whose past diverges and shifts with ours; where the humans appear and reason and act like us, but are paired by external spirits, essences in creature form; where the air are filled with enchantresses and gryphons, but beneath those skies, vehicles are caught and drinks is drunk, and older professors carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a child in the first trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the first volume, the origin story with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still clearly the sharp and tenacious main character of the earlier books, but more mature, sadder, more careful, more doubtful. This circumscription is amplified by her division from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the cause which made him desert her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to leave in search of that innocent part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an quality which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her journey to reunite with him, were the driving forces of the prior book, which saw Lyra undertake a wandering journey across the continent and into the Caucasus, facing with marvel and peril on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in action, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the faith's ruling body, and Pullman's deliciously chilling representation of strict, administrative malice – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – Lyra's relative, who blames her for his sibling's death – has worked himself into the office of head of the authority's High Council, and is determined on using his recently acquired power to broaden the religion's control. Another protagonist, who saved young Lyra to safety along a flooded river as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in spycraft: he is sent to a key location to learn more about his intentions. And beneath all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and precious rose oil which seems in some way to be the source of a societal and economic disturbance emanating out from the region. The oil is viewed by various factions as a marketable product, by different parties as a scientific or esoteric miracle, and by yet others – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a origin of darkness; an insult that must be eradicated. The question of its origins, its meaning, and whether it should be eliminated or safeguarded is coming rapidly to the fore.
Like the first series, our protagonist's actions, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be deeply connected with the fate of the world
In the previous volume, these plots ran broadly in tandem. In the conclusion, they come together. Similar to His Dark Materials, her actions and her destiny are unveiled to be inseparably woven with the destiny of the realm. Her individual quest to reunite with her companion and regain her vision becomes the key battleground in a larger conflict with an controlling regime which, as these systems often attempt, is seeking to suppress freedom of thought, innovation and art: all the personal, rebellious ways in which people can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The story opens with the finding of a series of curious fissures in the fabric of the Earth's sky: windows that appear to give on to different dimensions. An example of a opening manifests to be the origin of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its head, designates these openings as a challenge to the religion's doctrine and sets out to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to turn away from strict rationalism and back to instinct, yet, her certainty that these sites must be preserved – that their meaning and what they offer is mysteriously vital – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or whatever we name it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a poetic struggle between purity and experience is set.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
