Tings are falling apart in the last installment of The Dust Trilogy, the second of the author's grand trilogies set in a universe that appears, now more than ever, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or reorganizing themselves along novel and troubling lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from authorities, and pooling in the halls of theocrats, the coffers of corporations, the grasp of mobs. "An element is at work, silently, very subtly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and durable are faltering and giving way."
The Central Mystery and The Protagonist's Path
Just what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that animates this final volume, which continues where the previous book left off. This is, according to many, Pullman's final venture into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling world he first introduced 30 years ago, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose geography maps on to that of our world, but whose past diverges and shifts with ours; where the people appear and reason and act like us, but are paired by animal souls, beings in creature form; where the skies are filled with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but below, vehicles are ridden and beverages is drunk, and older professors carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a young woman: still clearly the prickly and determined protagonist of the earlier books, but aged, more sorrowful, more cautious, less sure. This restraint is heightened by her division from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
His choice to leave in pursuit of that youthful part of her which she may have forgotten (an quality which he represents as her "creativity"), and her mission to reunite with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which saw the protagonist undertake a wandering journey across Europe and into the Caucasus, facing with wonder and risk on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in play, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the religious controlling power, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister representation of strict, bureaucratic wickedness – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – Lyra's uncle, who blames her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of head of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his recently acquired influence to expand the religion's control. A key character, who rescued young the heroine to security along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an university scholar with a secondary role in espionage: he is assigned to a key location to learn more about Delamare's intentions. And beneath all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and valuable essential oil which appears in some way to be the source of a societal and financial disturbance emanating out from Central Asia. The extract is seen by some as a tradeable product, by different parties as a scientific or spiritual miracle, and by yet others – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a wellspring of darkness; an affront that must be obliterated. The issue of where it comes from, its significance, and whether it should be destroyed or protected is escalating in importance.
As in His Dark Materials, our protagonist's actions, and her future, are shown to be deeply connected with the future of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran largely in parallel. In this final book, they come together. As in the original series, Lyra's actions and her path are revealed to be inseparably entwined with the destiny of the universe. Her private journey to reunite with her daemon and recover her imagination becomes the key battleground in a broader conflict with an authoritarian government which, as these systems typically do, is striving to suppress independence of thought, innovation and art: all the personal, resistant ways in which humans can be independent.
Dimensional Rifts and Moral Battles
The story begins with the unveiling of a series of curious fissures in the makeup of the planet's sky: portals that look to give on to alternate realities. One such opening seems to be the origin of the highly contested rose oil. The authority, with its leader at its helm, labels these openings as a challenge to the institution's orthodoxy and sets out to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to turn away from strict reason and back to feeling, yet, her certainty that these locations must be preserved – that what they stand for and their value is somehow vital – grows. "Dust, or the extract, or the imagination, or the field of roses, or whatever we label it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a Blakean tussle between purity and knowledge is established.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
