Things are falling apart in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a realm that manifests, now more than ever, as a intense and slanted version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or reassembling themselves along novel and troubling lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from governments, and gathering in the chambers of theocrats, the coffers of corporations, the control of crowds. "An element is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says merchant a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his place in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and strong are deteriorating and giving way."
The Central Mystery and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that animates the concluding book, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's final excursion into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating world he first revealed in the distant past, with the launch of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose geography corresponds to that of this world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the people appear and think and act like us, but are paired by animal souls, essences in creature form; where the air are populated with witches and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, buses are taken and tea is drunk, and mature academics carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the first volume, the prequel with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still recognisably the spiky and persistent main character of the prior volumes, but more mature, melancholic, more cautious, less certain. This circumscription is amplified by her split from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which made him desert her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
The daemon's resolve to go off in search of that childlike part of her which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her mission to reunite with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled Lyra undertake a adventurous journey across Europe and into the mountain region, meeting with amazement and peril on the way. But from the start, underlying forces were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the faith's ruling body, and Pullman's deliciously chilling incarnation of strict, administrative malice – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's uncle, who faults her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of president of the church's High Council, and is determined on using his newfound influence to expand the church's control. A key character, who saved young Lyra to safety along a swollen Thames as an child in the first book, is now an university scholar with a sideline in espionage: he is dispatched to Geneva to discover more about Delamare's intentions. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and valuable essential oil which manifests in some way to be the origin of a social and economic disturbance spreading out from the region. The substance is viewed by certain groups as a tradeable good, by different parties as a scientific or mystical miracle, and by others still – the extremist "highland figures" – as a origin of evil; an insult that must be destroyed. The dilemma of its origins, its meaning, and whether it should be destroyed or safeguarded is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in the first series, the heroine's deeds, and her future, are demonstrated to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the universe
In its predecessor, these narratives ran mostly in tandem. In the conclusion, they merge. As in His Dark Materials, her actions and her destiny are revealed to be inseparably woven with the destiny of the realm. Her individual mission to reunite with her companion and regain her imagination becomes the key battleground in a broader battle with an authoritarian regime which, as these systems always have, is striving to quell autonomy of thought, innovation and art: all the personal, defiant ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Ideological Conflicts
The book opens with the unveiling of a series of strange fissures in the fabric of the world's sky: portals that seem to open into different dimensions. One such window seems to be the origin of the much debated botanical substance. The church, with Delamare at its leadership, labels these openings as a challenge to the institution's beliefs and endeavors to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to shift from strict logic and revert to intuition, nevertheless, her belief that these places must be defended – that their significance and what they provide is somehow vital – strengthens. "Dust, or the substance, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a philosophical conflict between naivety and experience is set.
Story Tempo and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
