Tings are falling apart in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the next of the author's masterful trilogies set in a universe that seems, now more than ever, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or restructuring themselves along new and disquieting lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is draining from states, and accumulating in the chambers of religious leaders, the coffers of business empires, the hands of crowds. "Something is at work, silently, very subtly", says businessman a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were firm and strong are faltering and giving way."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that propels the concluding book, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, according to many, Pullman's concluding foray into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting realm he first introduced three decades past, with the launch of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose terrain aligns with that of the real world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans appear and think and behave like us, but are paired by animal souls, essences in beast form; where the air are teeming with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but underneath, vehicles are taken and beverages is sipped, and mature academics carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first met as a young girl in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the prequel, the prequel with which Pullman began the series, is now a young woman: still recognisably the spiky and tenacious protagonist of the prior volumes, but more mature, sadder, more cautious, more doubtful. This restraint is heightened by her division from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to leave in quest of that youthful part of the heroine which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he represents as her "creativity"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed Lyra undertake a adventurous voyage across the continent and into the Caucasus, facing with wonder and danger on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the religious governing authority, and Pullman's masterfully eerie embodiment of austere, procedural malice – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – our protagonist's relative, who blames her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the position of head of the authority's High Council, and is intent on using his newfound power to broaden the religion's dominium. A key character, who carried infant Lyra to security along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in intelligence work: he is sent to a key location to find out more about Delamare's intentions. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and costly rose oil which appears in some way to be the origin of a social and economic upheaval emanating out from the region. The extract is seen by various factions as a marketable commodity, by others as a scientific or mystical miracle, and by others still – the extremist "mountain dwellers" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an affront that must be destroyed. The issue of its source, its meaning, and whether it should be eliminated or preserved is becoming urgent.
As in the original trilogy, the heroine's decisions, and her fate, are demonstrated to be inseparably connected with the destiny of the realm
In the previous volume, these storylines ran mostly in parallel. In the conclusion, they merge. Similar to the original series, her movements and her fate are shown to be deeply linked with the future of the realm. Her individual journey to reunite with her daemon and rediscover her vision becomes the central struggle in a wider war with an oppressive regime which, as these systems typically do, is striving to suppress freedom of reason, creativity and culture: all the inner, resistant ways in which humans can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The story starts with the finding of a series of curious fissures in the fabric of the world's air: portals that appear to lead to different dimensions. One such opening seems to be the source of the much debated mystical extract. The church, with the antagonist at its head, designates these windows as a challenge to the institution's beliefs and sets out to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to shift from strict rationalism and return to feeling, yet, her belief that these sites must be protected – that their meaning and what they offer is in some way vital – increases. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the vision, or the field of roses, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a philosophical struggle between purity and knowledge is set.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
