Tings are unraveling in the last installment of The Dust Trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that manifests, here more than ever, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Establishments are failing, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Power is draining from states, and gathering in the chambers of theocrats, the treasuries of conglomerates, the control of crowds. "An element is at work, very quietly, imperceptibly", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were firm and solid are weakening and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that drives this final volume, which continues where its predecessor ended. This is, according to many, the author's final excursion into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling world he first introduced 30 years ago, with the launch of Northern Lights. It's a world whose geography aligns with that of our world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the humans appear and reason and behave like us, but are joined by external spirits, souls in beast form; where the air are teeming with enchantresses and gryphons, but underneath, buses are caught and drinks is drunk, and older professors carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a baby in La Belle Sauvage, the introductory book with which the author began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still recognisably the prickly and tenacious main character of the previous installments, but more mature, sadder, more cautious, less sure. This limitation is amplified by her separation from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
His choice to go off in pursuit of that innocent part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an trait which he represents as her "creativity"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of the prior book, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a picaresque journey across the continent and into the Caucasus, facing with marvel and risk on the way. But from the beginning, profound shifts were in play, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the faith's ruling body, and the author's brilliantly sinister incarnation of strict, bureaucratic evil – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – our protagonist's family member, who faults her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the position of head of the authority's High Council, and is intent on using his fresh influence to broaden the institution's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who saved baby the heroine to refuge along a swollen river as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in spycraft: he is dispatched to Geneva to learn more about his aims. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and costly botanical extract which manifests mysteriously to be the cause of a social and economic crisis emanating out from that area. The oil is regarded by certain groups as a tradeable product, by others as a scientific or esoteric miracle, and by others still – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a origin of darkness; an affront that must be destroyed. The question of its origins, its meaning, and if it should be eliminated or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
Like the first series, the heroine's deeds, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be deeply linked with the destiny of the world
In its predecessor, these plots ran broadly in side by side. In the conclusion, they converge. As in the original series, the protagonist's actions and her path are shown to be inextricably woven with the fate of the realm. Her personal quest to rejoin with her companion and rediscover her imagination becomes the primary battleground in a larger war with an oppressive government which, as such regimes always have, is attempting to stifle freedom of reason, innovation and expression: all the inner, rebellious ways in which individuals can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The book opens with the discovery of a collection of unusual openings in the structure of the world's air: gateways that seem to lead to alternate realities. A particular portal seems to be the origin of the highly contested mystical extract. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its helm, designates these portals as a challenge to the religion's doctrine and sets out to destroy them. As Lyra begins to shift from strict reason and back to intuition, however, her certainty that these locations must be defended – that their meaning and what they provide is somehow essential – increases. "Dust, or the substance, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or whatever we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a philosophical conflict between innocence and maturity is established.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
