Things are unraveling in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the next of the author's masterful trilogies set in a world that appears, here more than ever, as a charged and slanted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from authorities, and gathering in the offices of religious leaders, the vaults of corporations, the control of mobs. "Some force is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says trader a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the Silk Roads from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and durable are weakening and giving way."
Core Enigma and The Protagonist's Path
Exactly what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the question that drives this final volume, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, reportedly, Pullman's last venture into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling realm he first unveiled in the distant past, with the launch of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose terrain corresponds to that of the real world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the people appear and think and behave like us, but are joined by animal souls, beings in beast form; where the heavens are filled with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, buses are ridden and beverages is drunk, and middle-aged scholars carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a child in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the first volume, the prequel with which the author began the series, is now a young woman: still clearly the sharp and tenacious heroine of the prior volumes, but older, melancholic, more careful, less certain. This circumscription is intensified by her separation from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
His choice to depart in quest of that innocent part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an quality which he epitomises as her "vision"), and her mission to reunite with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which followed the protagonist undertake a picaresque journey across Europe and into the mountain region, meeting with amazement and risk on the way. But from the start, underlying forces were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the church's governing authority, and Pullman's masterfully eerie representation of rigid, procedural wickedness – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. The antagonist – the heroine's family member, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the office of president of the authority's governing body, and is determined on using his newfound authority to extend the institution's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued infant Lyra to security along a overflowing river as an young boy in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a sideline in spycraft: he is dispatched to Geneva to learn more about Delamare's intentions. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and valuable botanical extract which appears mysteriously to be the origin of a social and economic upheaval rippling out from the region. The substance is seen by certain groups as a commercial good, by alternate groups as a scientific or mystical phenomenon, and by others still – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of evil; an challenge that must be destroyed. The dilemma of its origins, what it stands for, and whether it should be eliminated or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
As in His Dark Materials, our protagonist's deeds, and her destiny, are shown to be inextricably linked with the future of the world
In its predecessor, these narratives ran largely in parallel. In the conclusion, they come together. Similar to the original series, the protagonist's movements and her path are revealed to be inseparably entwined with the fate of the realm. Her private quest to reunite with her companion and regain her creativity becomes the primary battleground in a broader conflict with an oppressive regime which, as these systems always have, is attempting to suppress autonomy of thought, creativity and expression: all the inner, rebellious ways in which individuals can be free.
Dimensional Rifts and Ideological Conflicts
The story starts with the unveiling of a set of curious openings in the fabric of the world's sky: portals that look to open into other worlds. A particular opening appears to be the origin of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The authority, with its leader at its leadership, labels these openings as a challenge to the institution's beliefs and sets out to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to shift from rigid reason and return to feeling, yet, her belief that these locations must be preserved – that what they stand for and what they provide is in some way crucial – grows. "The substance, or rose oil, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or whatever we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a Blakean conflict between purity and maturity is prepared.
Story Tempo and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
