Things are collapsing in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a realm that seems, now more than ever, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Organizations are failing, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and troubling lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is flowing away from authorities, and gathering in the chambers of religious leaders, the treasuries of business empires, the control of crowds. "Something is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a watchful eye on the Silk Roads from his post in an city cafe. "Things we thought were stable and durable are weakening and giving way."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that animates this final volume, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's last venture into the elaborately built, infinitely beguiling world he first introduced three decades past, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose terrain corresponds to that of the real world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the people appear and think and act like us, but are paired by external spirits, souls in beast form; where the skies are populated with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but below, buses are ridden and drinks is sipped, and older academics carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a child in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a baby in La Belle Sauvage, the introductory book with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the sharp and determined main character of the earlier books, but more mature, sadder, warier, more doubtful. This circumscription is intensified by her division from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to leave in search of that youthful part of her which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed the protagonist undertake a picaresque voyage across the continent and into the Caucasus, meeting with wonder and danger on the way. But from the beginning, profound shifts were in action, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the church's ruling body, and Pullman's deliciously chilling incarnation of strict, procedural evil – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – the heroine's family member, who blames her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of head of the church's High Council, and is intent on using his fresh influence to expand the institution's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who saved young Lyra to safety along a swollen river as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an academic with a sideline in intelligence work: he is sent to Geneva to learn more about his plans. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and valuable rose oil which manifests in some way to be the cause of a social and financial disturbance emanating out from Central Asia. The substance is regarded by some as a commercial commodity, by different parties as a research-based or spiritual wonder, and by further factions – the extremist "mountain dwellers" – as a source of malevolence; an affront that must be destroyed. The issue of its source, its significance, and whether it should be eliminated or preserved is becoming urgent.
Like the first series, our protagonist's actions, and her future, are shown to be inseparably entwined with the fate of the realm
In its predecessor, these plots ran largely in parallel. In the conclusion, they come together. Like the first trilogy, her choices and her path are revealed to be inseparably woven with the future of the world. Her private mission to reconnect with her soul and rediscover her imagination becomes the primary battleground in a broader conflict with an oppressive system which, as such regimes typically do, is striving to quell independence of thought, originality and expression: all the inner, resistant ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The story opens with the discovery of a set of unusual openings in the fabric of the Earth's air: gateways that appear to lead to alternate realities. A particular opening seems to be the source of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The church, with Delamare at its head, classifies these portals as a challenge to the institution's doctrine and aims to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to shift from strict reason and return to instinct, nevertheless, her conviction that these places must be protected – that what they stand for and what they offer is somehow essential – grows. "Dust, or the extract, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a Blakean tussle between innocence and knowledge is set.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
