Tings are unraveling in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a world that appears, now more than ever, as a charged and slanted version of our own. Establishments are failing, or reorganizing themselves along novel and troubling lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from authorities, and gathering in the offices of theocrats, the treasuries of conglomerates, the hands of rioters. "Something is at work, very quietly, imperceptibly", says businessman a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the Silk Roads from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were firm and solid are faltering and failing."
The Central Mystery and The Protagonist's Path
Exactly what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that drives this final volume, which picks up where its predecessor left off. This is, reportedly, Pullman's last excursion into the elaborately built, endlessly enchanting realm he first revealed 30 years ago, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose geography aligns with that of the real world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the humans look and reason and act like us, but are joined by external spirits, beings in animal form; where the heavens are populated with witches and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, vehicles are ridden and drinks is drunk, and older academics carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in the prequel, the prequel with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a young woman: still clearly the sharp and persistent heroine of the previous installments, but older, sadder, more cautious, more doubtful. This circumscription is heightened by her split from her daemon, Pan – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to go off in quest of that innocent part of her which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he represents as her "vision"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw Lyra undertake a adventurous trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with wonder and peril on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in action, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the religious governing authority, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister representation of strict, bureaucratic malice – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – our protagonist's family member, who blames her for his sibling's death – has positioned himself into the office of head of the authority's governing body, and is set on using his recently acquired power to extend the institution's dominium. Another protagonist, who saved infant Lyra to refuge along a flooded Thames as an young boy in the first book, is now an university scholar with a secondary role in spycraft: he is sent to a key location to discover more about Delamare's aims. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the uncommon and precious botanical extract which manifests mysteriously to be the cause of a social and economic upheaval emanating out from that area. The substance is regarded by certain groups as a tradeable product, by others as a scientific or spiritual phenomenon, and by others still – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an insult that must be obliterated. The issue of its source, what it stands for, and if it should be destroyed or protected is becoming urgent.
Similar to the first series, our protagonist's decisions, and her future, are shown to be inextricably connected with the future of the realm
In its predecessor, these plots ran largely in tandem. In The Rose Field, they converge. Similar to the original series, the protagonist's actions and her fate are shown to be inextricably entwined with the fate of the universe. Her private mission to reconnect with her companion and regain her vision becomes the central struggle in a larger battle with an authoritarian system which, as such authorities typically do, is seeking to quell independence of reason, innovation and art: all the personal, rebellious ways in which people can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Ideological Conflicts
The book begins with the unveiling of a series of unusual openings in the fabric of the planet's sky: portals that look to give on to other worlds. An example of a portal manifests to be the point of the fiercely disputed mystical extract. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its leadership, labels these windows as a challenge to the church's doctrine and aims to destroy them. As Lyra begins to move from strict reason and back to instinct, however, her certainty that these places must be protected – that their meaning and what they offer is somehow vital – grows. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a philosophical struggle between innocence and experience is established.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
