Tings are falling apart in the last installment of The Dust Trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a universe that manifests, in this volume especially, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or reassembling themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from states, and pooling in the chambers of theocrats, the coffers of conglomerates, the hands of mobs. "Something is at work, stealthily, gradually", says trader a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his post in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and durable are faltering and giving way."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Exactly what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that drives the concluding book, which resumes where its predecessor ended. This is, by all accounts, the author's final venture into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating universe he first introduced 30 years ago, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a world whose terrain corresponds to that of the real world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals look and think and act like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, souls in beast form; where the heavens are populated with enchantresses and gryphons, but beneath those skies, transports are taken and tea is consumed, and mature professors carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still distinctly the sharp and determined heroine of the earlier books, but older, more sorrowful, more cautious, more doubtful. This restraint is amplified by her division from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the cause which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to leave in search of that innocent part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed Lyra undertake a picaresque trek across Europe and into the Caucasus, encountering with wonder and risk on the way. But from the start, underlying forces were in motion, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the religious governing authority, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister embodiment of strict, bureaucratic wickedness – is under new leadership, and asserting its power. The antagonist – the heroine's uncle, who faults her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the role of head of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his recently acquired influence to expand the religion's control. A key character, who saved infant the heroine to safety along a overflowing Thames as an young boy in the first book, is now an academic 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 rare and valuable botanical extract which seems somehow to be the origin of a social and economic disturbance emanating out from Central Asia. The oil is seen by certain groups as a marketable good, by alternate groups as a research-based or esoteric wonder, and by further factions – the zealous "highland figures" – as a wellspring of evil; an challenge that must be eradicated. The issue of its origins, what it stands for, and whether it should be removed or protected is coming rapidly to the fore.
Similar to the original trilogy, our protagonist's actions, and her future, are shown to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran largely in side by side. In the conclusion, they converge. Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's movements and her path are unveiled to be deeply linked with the fate of the world. Her individual journey to rejoin with her soul and recover her vision becomes the primary battleground in a wider war with an oppressive system which, as such authorities always have, is attempting to suppress independence of reason, originality and expression: all the personal, defiant ways in which people can be independent.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The book begins with the finding of a set of unusual openings in the fabric of the planet's atmosphere: gateways that appear to lead to different dimensions. One such portal manifests to be the origin of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The authority, with its leader at its helm, classifies these windows as a challenge to the institution's beliefs and endeavors to eradicate them. As our protagonist begins to move from strict logic and return to feeling, however, her conviction that these sites must be defended – that what they stand for and what they offer is somehow essential – grows. "Dust, or the substance, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a Blakean struggle between innocence and knowledge is established.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
