Things are collapsing in the last installment of The Dust Trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a realm that manifests, in this volume especially, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An invisible force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from governments, and accumulating in the chambers of theocrats, the vaults of business empires, the control of crowds. "Something is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and strong are weakening and collapsing."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Exactly what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that animates this final volume, which resumes where the previous book concluded. This is, reportedly, the author's final venture into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating world he first introduced in the distant past, with the launch of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose terrain maps on to that of this world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the people look and reason and act like us, but are joined by external spirits, essences in creature form; where the skies are populated with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but underneath, vehicles are taken and tea is sipped, and older professors carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a baby in La Belle Sauvage, the introductory book with which the author began the series, is now a young woman: still recognisably the sharp and tenacious protagonist of the earlier books, but aged, melancholic, warier, less sure. This circumscription is amplified by her division from her daemon, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to leave in quest of that youthful part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he represents as her "vision"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw Lyra undertake a picaresque voyage across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with wonder and peril on the way. But from the beginning, deeper currents were in play, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the church's governing authority, and the author's brilliantly sinister incarnation of strict, administrative wickedness – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's relative, who faults her for his sibling's death – has worked himself into the position of head of the Magisterium's governing body, and is set on using his fresh authority to broaden the church's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued young Lyra to security along a flooded river as an child in La Belle Sauvage, is now an university scholar with a sideline in espionage: he is dispatched to Geneva to discover more about his aims. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the rare and precious essential oil which seems somehow to be the source of a social and economic disturbance rippling out from the region. The substance is viewed by certain groups as a marketable product, by others as a research-based or mystical phenomenon, and by others still – the extremist "mountain dwellers" – as a source of darkness; an affront that must be destroyed. The issue of its source, its meaning, and if it should be destroyed or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
Like the original trilogy, our protagonist's actions, and her future, are demonstrated to be inextricably entwined with the future of the realm
In its predecessor, these storylines ran broadly in parallel. In this final book, they converge. Similar to the original series, the protagonist's actions and her fate are shown to be inextricably woven with the future of the realm. Her individual journey to reunite with her soul and recover her vision becomes the key conflict in a wider conflict with an authoritarian government which, as these systems always have, is attempting to suppress freedom of reason, originality and expression: all the personal, rebellious ways in which people can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The novel starts with the finding of a collection of curious fissures in the makeup of the planet's air: portals that look to lead to alternate realities. An example of a window seems to be the origin of the much debated rose oil. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its head, designates these windows as a threat to the institution's doctrine and endeavors to destroy them. As our protagonist begins to move from strict reason and back to instinct, nevertheless, her conviction that these locations must be preserved – that their meaning and their value is somehow vital – increases. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a poetic struggle between naivety and experience is established.
Story Tempo and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
