Tings are unraveling 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 slanted version of our own. Organizations are failing, or reassembling themselves along new and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from states, and gathering in the halls of theocrats, the vaults of conglomerates, the hands of rioters. "Some force is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and solid are deteriorating and failing."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the question that propels the concluding book, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final foray into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting world he first unveiled three decades past, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose landscape maps on to that of this world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the people appear and reason and behave like us, but are paired by animal souls, essences in creature form; where the heavens are populated with sorceresses and gryphons, but beneath those skies, vehicles are caught and beverages is drunk, and older academics carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the prequel, the introductory book with which the author began the series, is now a adult: still clearly the prickly and tenacious main character of the earlier books, but more mature, sadder, more cautious, less certain. This restraint is heightened by her separation from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
His choice to depart in pursuit of that childlike part of the heroine which she may have forgotten (an quality which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw the protagonist undertake a adventurous trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, meeting with wonder and risk on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in play, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the church's governing authority, and the author's masterfully eerie representation of rigid, bureaucratic malice – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's family member, who holds responsible her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the office of head of the church's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his newfound authority to expand the institution's dominium. Another protagonist, who saved infant the heroine to safety along a flooded Thames as an child in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a secondary role in spycraft: he is dispatched to Geneva to discover more about his plans. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the rare and costly botanical extract which appears in some way to be the cause of a societal and financial crisis spreading out from the region. The oil is viewed by certain groups as a commercial good, by alternate groups as a research-based or spiritual wonder, and by further factions – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an insult that must be obliterated. The issue of its source, what it stands for, and if it should be removed or protected is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in His Dark Materials, Lyra's actions, and her fate, are revealed to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran mostly in tandem. In the conclusion, they merge. Similar to the original series, her actions and her path are unveiled to be deeply woven with the fate of the universe. Her individual mission to reconnect with her daemon and regain her vision becomes the primary battleground in a larger conflict with an oppressive system which, as such authorities typically do, is seeking to suppress independence of thinking, originality and art: all the personal, defiant ways in which people can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The story starts with the unveiling of a series of unusual cracks in the structure of the Earth's atmosphere: windows that appear to give on to alternate realities. One such portal manifests to be the source of the much debated mystical extract. The authority, with the antagonist at its head, classifies these portals as a problem to the church's doctrine and sets out to destroy them. As our protagonist begins to shift from strict reason and revert to intuition, yet, her belief that these locations must be defended – that their meaning and what they offer is in some way crucial – strengthens. "The substance, or rose oil, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or whatever we call it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a Blakean struggle between purity and maturity is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
