Tings are unraveling in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that appears, here more than ever, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from authorities, and gathering in the chambers of theocrats, the vaults of business empires, the grasp of crowds. "Some force is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says merchant a trader character, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his post in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and durable are faltering and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Exactly what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that propels this final volume, which continues where the previous book ended. This is, reportedly, Pullman's concluding excursion into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting universe he first introduced three decades past, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose terrain corresponds to that of the real world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals appear and think and behave like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, souls in beast form; where the skies are filled with witches and mythical beasts, but below, transports are caught and drinks is consumed, and middle-aged scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a baby in the first volume, the prequel with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a young woman: still recognisably the spiky and determined heroine of the earlier books, but aged, more sorrowful, more careful, less certain. This limitation is amplified by her split from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
The daemon's resolve to go off in search of that innocent part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he epitomises as her "vision"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled Lyra undertake a wandering voyage across Europe and into the Caucasus, encountering with wonder and peril on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the religious controlling power, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of strict, procedural evil – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – Lyra's family member, who holds responsible her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the office of head of the Magisterium's governing body, and is determined on using his newfound influence to broaden the institution's rule. A key character, who rescued infant Lyra to safety along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an university scholar with a sideline in spycraft: he is assigned to Geneva to learn more about his plans. And beneath all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and costly rose oil which appears somehow to be the source of a social and economic crisis emanating out from that area. The extract is regarded by some as a marketable commodity, by different parties as a scientific or mystical miracle, and by yet others – the extremist "highland figures" – as a origin of malevolence; an insult that must be destroyed. The issue of its origins, what it stands for, and if it should be destroyed or protected is escalating in importance.
As in the first series, our protagonist's actions, and her future, are revealed to be inseparably linked with the fate of the universe
In the previous volume, these plots ran largely in side by side. In the conclusion, they converge. Similar to His Dark Materials, her actions and her path are revealed to be inextricably woven with the future of the world. Her personal quest to reconnect with her companion and recover her vision becomes the central battleground in a broader war with an authoritarian system which, as such authorities typically do, is seeking to stifle freedom of thinking, creativity and expression: all the personal, defiant ways in which humans can be free.
Dimensional Rifts and Ideological Conflicts
The book begins with the finding of a series of strange fissures in the makeup of the planet's air: gateways that appear to lead to other worlds. An example of a opening manifests to be the point of the much debated mystical extract. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its head, classifies these windows as a problem to the institution's orthodoxy and aims to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to turn away from rigid reason and return to feeling, however, her certainty that these sites must be protected – that what they stand for and what they offer is mysteriously vital – grows. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or whatever we label it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a philosophical conflict between innocence and maturity is established.
Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
