Tings are collapsing in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the next of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a world that manifests, now more than ever, as a charged and slanted version of our own. Establishments are failing, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An invisible force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from authorities, and pooling in the halls of theocrats, the treasuries of corporations, the control of crowds. "An element is at work, very quietly, gradually", says businessman a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and solid are faltering and failing."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Just what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the question that drives this final volume, which continues where the previous book concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final excursion into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling world he first unveiled three decades past, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a world whose landscape maps on to that of our world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans appear and reason and behave like us, but are joined by animal souls, souls in animal form; where the heavens are teeming with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but below, vehicles are caught and beverages is sipped, and middle-aged academics carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a child in the first trilogy, and then revisited as a baby in the first volume, the introductory book with which the author began this trilogy, is now a adult: still recognisably the spiky and persistent heroine of the earlier books, but more mature, sadder, more cautious, less certain. This restraint is intensified by her division from her daemon, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to depart in pursuit of that innocent part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an trait which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her journey to reunite with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which chronicled Lyra undertake a picaresque voyage across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with amazement and peril on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in play, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the faith's ruling body, and the author's deliciously chilling incarnation of strict, bureaucratic evil – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's uncle, who faults her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the position of president of the authority's High Council, and is determined on using his recently acquired influence to expand the religion's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who saved infant Lyra to security along a flooded river as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an university scholar with a sideline in espionage: he is sent to a key location to find out more about his aims. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and costly botanical extract which manifests mysteriously to be the source of a social and financial disturbance rippling out from Central Asia. The substance is regarded by some as a tradeable product, by alternate groups as a scientific or spiritual miracle, and by others still – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a source of evil; an challenge that must be obliterated. The dilemma of where it comes from, its significance, and whether it should be removed or protected is escalating in importance.
Like His Dark Materials, Lyra's decisions, and her future, are shown to be inseparably linked with the fate of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran mostly in parallel. In this final book, they merge. As in the first trilogy, her choices and her destiny are shown to be inextricably entwined with the future of the universe. Her private journey to reconnect with her companion and rediscover her vision becomes the central conflict in a wider battle with an authoritarian system which, as these systems typically do, is attempting to quell freedom of reason, originality and culture: all the inner, rebellious ways in which humans can be free.
Dimensional Rifts and Ideological Conflicts
The story begins with the unveiling of a collection of strange openings in the structure of the Earth's sky: windows that look to lead to other worlds. A particular window manifests to be the source of the much debated botanical substance. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its leadership, labels these openings as a problem to the religion's beliefs and aims to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to shift from strict rationalism and back to feeling, nevertheless, her certainty that these sites must be defended – that their significance and what they offer is mysteriously crucial – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or whatever we call it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a poetic conflict between naivety and maturity is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
