Tings are collapsing in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a universe that appears, now more than ever, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Institutions are failing, or reorganizing themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is draining from states, and pooling in the halls of theocrats, the treasuries of corporations, the hands of rioters. "Something is at work, stealthily, gradually", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his place in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and durable are faltering and giving way."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Just what that something might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that propels the concluding book, which continues where the previous book concluded. This is, reportedly, the author's last excursion into the elaborately built, deeply captivating universe he first unveiled in the distant past, with the publication of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose terrain maps on to that of our world, but whose past diverges and shifts with ours; where the individuals appear and think and behave like us, but are paired by daemons, essences in creature form; where the heavens are teeming with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, vehicles are caught and drinks is sipped, and older scholars carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in La Belle Sauvage, the introductory book with which Pullman began the series, is now a adult: still recognisably the prickly and persistent main character of the previous installments, but aged, more sorrowful, more cautious, less sure. This restraint is heightened by her division from her animal guide, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to go off in quest of that innocent part of the heroine which she appears to have shed (an quality which he symbolizes as her "creativity"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a adventurous voyage across Europe and into the mountain region, meeting with wonder and peril on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the church's ruling body, and the author's brilliantly sinister representation of strict, bureaucratic wickedness – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – Lyra's family member, who blames her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of leader of the church's governing body, and is determined on using his recently acquired power to broaden the institution's rule. Another protagonist, who saved young the heroine to security along a swollen river as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is sent to Geneva to learn more about Delamare's plans. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and valuable botanical extract which manifests somehow to be the origin of a societal and economic upheaval spreading out from Central Asia. The extract is viewed by some as a tradeable product, by alternate groups as a research-based or spiritual miracle, and by others still – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of darkness; an insult that must be eradicated. The dilemma of where it comes from, its meaning, and whether it should be removed or preserved is becoming urgent.
Like the first series, the heroine's actions, and her fate, are shown to be inseparably linked with the destiny of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran broadly in parallel. In the conclusion, they merge. Similar to the first trilogy, Lyra's choices and her fate are revealed to be deeply entwined with the future of the realm. Her personal quest to reconnect with her soul and rediscover her creativity becomes the key conflict in a wider conflict with an authoritarian system which, as these systems always have, is attempting to stifle autonomy of reason, creativity and expression: all the personal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Moral Battles
The story starts with the finding of a series of curious openings in the makeup of the planet's sky: gateways that seem to lead to different dimensions. One such opening appears to be the origin of the highly contested botanical substance. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its leadership, classifies these portals as a problem to the religion's beliefs and aims to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to turn away from strict rationalism and back to instinct, yet, her certainty that these places must be protected – that their meaning and what they offer is somehow crucial – increases. "The substance, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or no matter what we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a philosophical tussle between naivety and experience is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
