Things are unraveling in the last installment of The Dust Trilogy, the second of the author's grand trilogies set in a universe that seems, here more than ever, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Institutions are crumbling, or restructuring themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Control is draining from authorities, and accumulating in the halls of religious leaders, the treasuries of conglomerates, the hands of mobs. "Some force is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says trader a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his post in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and durable are weakening and collapsing."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Exactly what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that drives this final volume, which continues where the previous book ended. This is, reportedly, Pullman's last excursion into the elaborately built, infinitely beguiling world he first introduced three decades past, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose geography aligns with that of the real world, but whose chronicles diverges and shifts with ours; where the humans appear and think and behave like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, essences in animal form; where the heavens are teeming with enchantresses and gryphons, but underneath, buses are taken and tea is sipped, and older scholars carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a child in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the prequel, the origin story with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still distinctly the spiky and determined main character of the prior volumes, but older, more sorrowful, more cautious, less certain. This limitation is intensified by her division from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to go off in pursuit of that innocent part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an trait which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed Lyra undertake a picaresque journey across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with marvel and danger on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in play, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the church's ruling body, and Pullman's masterfully eerie embodiment of rigid, administrative evil – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's family member, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the office of president of the church's High Council, and is intent on using his fresh power to expand the religion's rule. Another protagonist, who carried young Lyra to refuge along a overflowing river as an young boy in the first book, is now an university scholar with a sideline in spycraft: he is dispatched to Geneva to learn more about Delamare's aims. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the rare and precious botanical extract which manifests mysteriously to be the origin of a social and financial upheaval spreading out from that area. The extract is seen by various factions as a marketable commodity, by different parties as a scientific or mystical phenomenon, and by yet others – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a source of darkness; an insult that must be eradicated. The issue of where it comes from, its significance, and whether it should be destroyed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
Similar to the first series, Lyra's decisions, and her future, are shown to be inseparably connected with the fate of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran largely in parallel. In this final book, they merge. Similar to His Dark Materials, the protagonist's movements and her path are unveiled to be inseparably linked with the future of the universe. Her private quest to reconnect with her daemon and recover her imagination becomes the key battleground in a broader war with an authoritarian regime which, as such regimes often attempt, is seeking to quell autonomy of thinking, creativity and culture: all the inner, rebellious ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The story starts with the finding of a set of unusual cracks in the structure of the planet's air: windows that look to open into alternate realities. A particular portal seems to be the origin of the highly contested botanical substance. The church, with its leader at its leadership, labels these portals as a threat to the church's beliefs and aims to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to move from rigid logic and return to instinct, however, her certainty that these locations must be preserved – that what they stand for and their value is somehow crucial – strengthens. "The substance, or the substance, or the vision, or the field of roses, or whatever we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a philosophical struggle between innocence and experience is established.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
