Things are unraveling in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a world that appears, here more than ever, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Institutions are failing, or reassembling themselves along new and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from authorities, and gathering in the offices of theocrats, the vaults of conglomerates, the control of crowds. "Some force is at work, stealthily, very subtly", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and durable are weakening and giving way."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Just what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the question that propels the concluding book, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final foray into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting realm he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a world whose terrain maps on to that of our world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the individuals look and reason and act like us, but are paired by animal souls, beings in beast form; where the air are filled with sorceresses and gryphons, but beneath those skies, vehicles are caught and tea is sipped, and middle-aged scholars carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a child in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the prequel, the origin story with which the author began the series, is now a adult: still distinctly the spiky and determined heroine of the prior volumes, but more mature, sadder, more careful, less certain. This restraint is amplified by her separation from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to leave in quest of that youthful part of her which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "creativity"), and her journey to reunite with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which followed the protagonist undertake a picaresque journey across Europe and into the mountain region, encountering with marvel and danger on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the faith's ruling body, and the author's masterfully eerie embodiment of strict, administrative evil – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's relative, who blames her for his family member's death – has positioned himself into the office of head of the authority's governing body, and is set on using his newfound authority to extend the religion's dominium. Another protagonist, who saved baby Lyra to refuge along a overflowing river as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a secondary role in spycraft: he is sent to the city to learn more about the antagonist's intentions. And beneath all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and precious essential oil which manifests in some way to be the cause of a social and financial disturbance rippling out from the region. The substance is regarded by various factions as a tradeable good, by alternate groups as a scientific or mystical wonder, and by further factions – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a source of evil; an challenge that must be eradicated. The issue of its origins, what it stands for, and if it should be removed or protected is escalating in importance.
Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's decisions, and her fate, are revealed to be deeply connected with the future of the world
In its predecessor, these narratives ran broadly in side by side. In the conclusion, they come together. Like the original series, Lyra's choices and her path are revealed to be inseparably woven with the destiny of the world. Her personal quest to rejoin with her companion and rediscover her creativity becomes the central battleground in a broader war with an authoritarian government which, as these systems always have, is striving to stifle independence of thought, originality and expression: all the inner, resistant ways in which people can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The story opens with the unveiling of a collection of unusual cracks in the structure of the world's air: windows that appear to give on to different dimensions. A particular window seems to be the origin of the highly contested mystical extract. The authority, with Delamare at its leadership, labels these openings as a problem to the institution's orthodoxy and sets out to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to shift from strict logic and return to instinct, yet, her certainty that these locations must be protected – that what they stand for and what they provide is in some way vital – increases. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the vision, or the field of roses, or whatever we name it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a philosophical tussle between purity and experience is set.
Story Tempo and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
