Tings are falling apart in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a world that seems, now more than ever, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Organizations are crumbling, or restructuring themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Control is shifting from governments, and accumulating in the halls of religious leaders, the coffers of corporations, the grasp of mobs. "An element is at work, silently, gradually", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and strong are faltering and collapsing."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the question that drives the concluding book, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's last foray into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating realm he first introduced three decades past, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose landscape corresponds to that of our world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the individuals appear and reason and behave like us, but are paired by external spirits, beings in beast form; where the air are populated with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but below, vehicles are taken and beverages is sipped, and older scholars carry fancy 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 first volume, the origin story with which the author began the series, is now a mature individual: still clearly the spiky and persistent protagonist of the earlier books, but older, melancholic, warier, less sure. This restraint is amplified by her separation from her animal guide, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
His choice to depart in quest of that childlike part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an quality which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her journey to reunite with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which saw the protagonist undertake a picaresque voyage across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with marvel and risk on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the faith's governing authority, and the author's brilliantly sinister representation of rigid, administrative wickedness – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. The antagonist – Lyra's relative, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the position of head of the authority's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his fresh authority to broaden the institution's control. Malcolm Polstead, who saved young the heroine to safety along a overflowing river as an young boy in the first book, is now an academic with a additional duty in espionage: he is sent to Geneva to discover more about Delamare's aims. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and costly rose oil which seems mysteriously to be the source of a social and economic disturbance rippling out from Central Asia. The extract is seen by some as a commercial good, by others as a research-based or spiritual wonder, and by others still – the extremist "highland figures" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an affront that must be destroyed. The question of its origins, what it stands for, and whether it should be eliminated or protected is becoming urgent.
Like the first series, Lyra's deeds, and her fate, are shown to be deeply linked with the destiny of the universe
In its predecessor, these storylines ran mostly in parallel. In the conclusion, they converge. As in His Dark Materials, Lyra's choices and her destiny are unveiled to be inseparably entwined with the future of the universe. Her individual journey to reconnect with her daemon and recover her vision becomes the primary conflict in a broader conflict with an authoritarian government which, as such authorities always have, is attempting to quell independence of thought, innovation and expression: all the personal, rebellious ways in which people can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles
The novel starts with the discovery of a set of strange fissures in the structure of the Earth's atmosphere: gateways that look to lead to other worlds. One such window appears to be the origin of the much debated rose oil. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its helm, designates these openings as a threat to the church's doctrine and aims to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to shift from inflexible rationalism and return to feeling, yet, her conviction that these places must be preserved – that their meaning and what they offer is mysteriously crucial – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we require it." The scene for a philosophical conflict between naivety and maturity is set.
Story Tempo and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
