Things are falling apart in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the next of the author's masterful trilogies set in a world that seems, in this volume especially, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Institutions are failing, or restructuring themselves along new and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from governments, and accumulating in the halls of theocrats, the vaults of conglomerates, the hands of rioters. "An element is at work, silently, very subtly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the Silk Roads from his place in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and solid are deteriorating and collapsing."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Precisely what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that propels the concluding book, which picks up where its predecessor ended. This is, by all accounts, the author's final foray into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating world he first introduced three decades past, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose terrain aligns with that of this world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and think and act like us, but are paired by external spirits, essences in creature form; where the skies are teeming with witches and mythical beasts, but underneath, vehicles are ridden and tea is consumed, and middle-aged professors carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a baby in La Belle Sauvage, the origin story with which the author began the series, is now a young woman: still distinctly the prickly and determined heroine of the prior volumes, but older, more sorrowful, warier, less certain. This restraint is intensified by her division from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
His choice to leave in search of that youthful part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an trait which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled Lyra undertake a wandering journey across the continent and into the Caucasus, meeting with amazement and danger on the way. But from the beginning, profound shifts were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the church's governing authority, and Pullman's masterfully eerie representation of austere, administrative evil – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's uncle, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the office of head of the authority's ruling assembly, and is set on using his newfound influence to extend the religion's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who carried baby Lyra to security along a swollen river as an child in La Belle Sauvage, is now an Oxford don with a additional duty in espionage: he is dispatched to Geneva to learn more about his plans. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and valuable rose oil which appears mysteriously to be the source of a social and economic crisis emanating out from Central Asia. The oil is viewed by some as a commercial good, by others as a empirical or spiritual wonder, and by further factions – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a source of evil; an challenge that must be eradicated. The dilemma of its origins, its significance, and whether it should be eliminated or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's deeds, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be inextricably connected with the destiny of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran mostly in tandem. In the conclusion, they come together. Like the original series, her actions and her path are revealed to be inextricably entwined with the future of the world. Her personal journey to reconnect with her companion and regain her vision becomes the central battleground in a larger conflict with an authoritarian system which, as these systems often attempt, is seeking to quell independence of reason, innovation and expression: all the inner, rebellious ways in which individuals can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The book starts with the unveiling of a series of strange cracks in the structure of the Earth's sky: windows that appear to open into alternate realities. One such portal manifests to be the point of the much debated botanical substance. The church, with Delamare at its leadership, classifies these windows as a challenge to the institution's doctrine and aims to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to move from strict reason and revert to intuition, however, her conviction that these locations must be protected – that their meaning and what they offer is somehow essential – grows. "The substance, or the extract, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a Blakean tussle between innocence and maturity is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
