Tings are falling apart in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the second of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a world that seems, here more than ever, as a intense and slanted version of our own. Institutions are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Control is shifting from authorities, and accumulating in the halls of theocrats, the coffers of business empires, the grasp of mobs. "Something is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says trader a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his place in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and strong are deteriorating and failing."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Just what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that drives the concluding book, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, according to many, the author's last excursion into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling world he first introduced in the distant past, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose landscape corresponds to that of our world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the people look and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by daemons, souls in beast form; where the skies are populated with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, vehicles are ridden and beverages is sipped, and older professors carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in the prequel, the prequel with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a young woman: still distinctly the prickly and determined heroine of the prior volumes, but aged, sadder, more cautious, less certain. This limitation is amplified by her split from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
His choice to leave in quest of that childlike part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an trait which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which followed Lyra undertake a adventurous journey across the continent and into the mountain region, encountering with marvel and peril on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the church's governing authority, and the author's masterfully eerie embodiment of strict, procedural wickedness – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – our protagonist's uncle, who blames her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the office of leader of the Magisterium's governing body, and is set on using his fresh authority to expand the institution's rule. A key character, who rescued infant the heroine to security along a flooded river as an young boy in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in spycraft: he is dispatched to Geneva to find out more about the antagonist's aims. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the rare and precious rose oil which seems somehow to be the cause of a societal and financial upheaval emanating out from the region. The substance is viewed by various factions as a tradeable commodity, by others as a scientific or spiritual wonder, and by yet others – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a origin of darkness; an affront that must be destroyed. The question of its source, its significance, and whether it should be destroyed or preserved is escalating in importance.
Similar to the original trilogy, the heroine's decisions, and her destiny, are revealed to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the realm
In the previous volume, these plots ran broadly in parallel. In the conclusion, they merge. As in the original series, her movements and her fate are revealed to be deeply entwined with the future of the world. Her private quest to reconnect with her daemon and regain her creativity becomes the central struggle in a wider battle with an authoritarian government which, as these systems always have, is striving to stifle independence of reason, innovation and expression: all the internal, rebellious ways in which people can be independent.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The book opens with the discovery of a collection of curious fissures in the makeup of the Earth's air: windows that seem to give on to alternate realities. A particular opening manifests to be the point of the highly contested botanical substance. The church, with the antagonist at its leadership, labels these openings as a challenge to the religion's beliefs and sets out to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to move from inflexible reason and return to feeling, nevertheless, her belief that these places must be defended – that their significance and their value is somehow essential – increases. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or whatever we call it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a philosophical struggle between purity and maturity is established.
Story Tempo and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
