Things are falling apart in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a universe that seems, here more than ever, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Organizations are failing, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from authorities, and pooling in the offices of theocrats, the treasuries of corporations, the grasp of mobs. "Some force is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the Silk Roads from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and solid are weakening and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that drives this final volume, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth concluded. This is, according to many, the author's final excursion into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating world he first revealed in the distant past, with the publication of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose landscape corresponds to that of our world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the people look and reason and behave like us, but are paired by daemons, souls in creature form; where the skies are filled with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, buses are caught and tea is sipped, and mature scholars carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the prequel, the origin story with which the author began the series, is now a young woman: still recognisably the prickly and tenacious main character of the earlier books, but aged, more sorrowful, more cautious, more doubtful. This restraint is intensified by her separation from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
His choice to depart in pursuit of that childlike part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which saw the protagonist undertake a adventurous journey across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with marvel and peril on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the church's ruling body, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of strict, procedural malice – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – our protagonist's relative, who blames her for his sibling's death – has worked himself into the position of president of the Magisterium's High Council, and is intent on using his newfound influence to extend the church's rule. Another protagonist, who carried young Lyra to safety along a overflowing river as an young boy in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a secondary role in intelligence work: he is dispatched to the city to discover more about the antagonist's plans. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the uncommon and valuable botanical extract which manifests somehow to be the source of a social and economic crisis rippling out from the region. The substance is seen by some as a tradeable commodity, by alternate groups as a research-based or esoteric miracle, and by yet others – the extremist "highland figures" – as a source of malevolence; an affront that must be destroyed. The question of its source, its meaning, and if it should be removed or preserved is escalating in importance.
Like the original trilogy, our protagonist's decisions, and her future, are shown to be deeply entwined with the fate of the world
In the previous volume, these storylines ran mostly in tandem. In the conclusion, they come together. Like the original series, Lyra's movements and her fate are unveiled to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the world. Her personal quest to reconnect with her daemon and rediscover her imagination becomes the primary battleground in a larger war with an controlling regime which, as such authorities typically do, is attempting to suppress independence of thinking, creativity and culture: all the internal, defiant ways in which humans can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The story begins with the discovery of a collection of curious openings in the structure of the Earth's sky: windows that seem to lead to other worlds. One such opening appears to be the origin of the much debated botanical substance. The authority, with its leader at its leadership, labels these openings as a problem to the church's orthodoxy and endeavors to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to shift from inflexible logic and return to instinct, yet, her certainty that these sites must be protected – that their significance and their value is in some way vital – increases. "Dust, or the extract, or the vision, or the field of roses, or no matter what we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a Blakean tussle between purity and experience is set.
Story Tempo and Character Development
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
