Tings are unraveling in the last installment of The Dust Trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a universe that seems, in this volume especially, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Institutions are failing, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and troubling lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from authorities, and pooling in the offices of theocrats, the vaults of business empires, the control of rioters. "Something is at work, silently, gradually", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the Silk Roads from his place in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and solid are deteriorating and failing."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Just what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that propels this final volume, which resumes where the previous book ended. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's last excursion into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating universe he first introduced three decades past, with the publication of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose landscape corresponds to that of this world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals appear and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by daemons, essences in creature form; where the skies are teeming with witches and mythical beasts, but underneath, buses are caught and beverages is sipped, and older scholars carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first encountered as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in the prequel, the prequel with which the author began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still distinctly the sharp and tenacious main character of the earlier books, but more mature, melancholic, more careful, less sure. This limitation is amplified by her division from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, ironically, the cause which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
His choice to leave in search of that innocent part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an trait which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw Lyra undertake a wandering trek across Europe and into the Caucasus, encountering with marvel and peril on the way. But from the beginning, deeper currents were in action, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the church's controlling power, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister incarnation of strict, administrative wickedness – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – our protagonist's relative, who blames her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the office of leader of the church's High Council, and is determined on using his recently acquired power to expand the religion's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who carried infant Lyra to safety along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in espionage: he is dispatched to the city to learn more about Delamare's intentions. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and valuable botanical extract which appears in some way to be the source of a societal and economic disturbance emanating out from that area. The oil is viewed by some as a commercial good, by others as a scientific or mystical wonder, and by further factions – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a source of darkness; an affront that must be destroyed. The question of its origins, what it stands for, and whether it should be destroyed or safeguarded is coming rapidly to the fore.
Like the original trilogy, Lyra's decisions, and her fate, are shown to be inextricably linked with the future of the realm
In the previous volume, these storylines ran broadly in side by side. In this final book, they come together. Similar to His Dark Materials, the protagonist's actions and her destiny are shown to be inseparably linked with the future of the universe. Her private journey to reunite with her companion and regain her imagination becomes the primary conflict in a wider battle with an controlling government which, as such regimes typically do, is striving to quell independence of reason, innovation and art: all the inner, rebellious ways in which people can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The novel starts with the unveiling of a series of strange fissures in the fabric of the planet's sky: portals that look to give on to other worlds. One such window seems to be the origin of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its head, labels these openings as a challenge to the religion's beliefs and aims to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to move from inflexible reason and return to intuition, however, her belief that these locations must be preserved – that what they stand for and their value is mysteriously crucial – strengthens. "Dust, or the substance, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or whatever we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a philosophical tussle between naivety and maturity is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
