Tings are falling apart in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that appears, now more than ever, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Institutions are failing, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from governments, and gathering in the halls of theocrats, the coffers of corporations, the control of crowds. "Something is at work, very quietly, imperceptibly", says merchant a trader character, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his post in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and durable are deteriorating and collapsing."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Precisely what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that propels the concluding book, which resumes where its predecessor concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's last venture into the elaborately built, deeply captivating world he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the publication of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose landscape maps on to that of our world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals look and reason and behave like us, but are joined by external spirits, essences in creature form; where the skies are teeming with sorceresses and gryphons, but beneath those skies, transports are ridden and tea is consumed, and older professors carry luxury shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which Pullman began the series, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the prickly and determined heroine of the prior volumes, but aged, more sorrowful, more cautious, more doubtful. This restraint is intensified by her division from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to depart in quest of that youthful part of her which she appears to have shed (an quality which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw Lyra undertake a picaresque voyage across Europe and into the Caucasus, encountering with wonder and peril on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in action, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the religious ruling body, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister representation of rigid, bureaucratic malice – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's uncle, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has positioned himself into the position of president of the authority's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his recently acquired power to expand the church's dominium. A key character, who rescued infant the heroine to safety along a swollen Thames as an young boy in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a additional duty in spycraft: he is sent to the city to discover more about the antagonist's plans. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and costly rose oil which manifests somehow to be the cause of a societal and financial disturbance rippling out from the region. The extract is viewed by certain groups as a commercial product, by others as a scientific or esoteric miracle, and by others still – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of darkness; an insult that must be eradicated. The question of where it comes from, its significance, and whether it should be destroyed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
Like His Dark Materials, the heroine's deeds, and her fate, are shown to be inextricably entwined with the future of the world
In its predecessor, these narratives ran mostly in tandem. In this final book, they come together. Like His Dark Materials, the protagonist's movements and her destiny are revealed to be inextricably linked with the destiny of the world. Her personal quest to reunite with her soul and rediscover her vision becomes the key battleground in a broader conflict with an oppressive regime which, as such regimes typically do, is striving to quell independence of thought, originality and art: all the personal, rebellious ways in which humans can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The book opens with the discovery of a set of strange fissures in the makeup of the Earth's sky: portals that seem to open into other worlds. An example of a portal seems to be the source of the highly contested mystical extract. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its head, designates these openings as a challenge to the institution's orthodoxy and endeavors to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to move from strict logic and revert to instinct, nevertheless, her belief that these places must be protected – that their meaning and what they provide is somehow crucial – increases. "Dust, or the substance, or the imagination, or the field of roses, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we require it." The setting for a philosophical conflict between naivety and knowledge is established.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
