Things are collapsing in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a realm that manifests, here more than ever, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Institutions are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and troubling lines. An invisible force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Control is draining from states, and pooling in the offices of religious leaders, the treasuries of conglomerates, the grasp of crowds. "Something is at work, silently, gradually", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his place in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and solid are deteriorating and failing."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that drives the concluding book, which picks up where the previous book concluded. This is, reportedly, the author's final foray into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting realm he first unveiled three decades past, with the launch of Northern Lights. It's a world whose terrain maps on to that of this world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the people appear and think and act like us, but are joined by animal souls, souls in creature form; where the heavens are filled with witches and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, buses are caught and drinks is sipped, and middle-aged professors carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a child in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the introductory book with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still recognisably the spiky and determined heroine of the prior volumes, but aged, more sorrowful, more careful, less sure. This restraint is intensified by her separation from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
The daemon's resolve to leave in search of that innocent part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an trait which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled Lyra undertake a picaresque trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with wonder and risk on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in action, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the church's controlling power, and Pullman's masterfully eerie embodiment of strict, bureaucratic wickedness – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's uncle, who holds responsible her for his sibling's death – has worked himself into the office of president of the church's governing body, and is determined on using his fresh authority to broaden the institution's dominium. Another protagonist, who saved young Lyra to security along a flooded Thames as an child in the first book, is now an university scholar with a secondary role in espionage: he is dispatched to Geneva to learn more about the antagonist's plans. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and precious botanical extract which appears mysteriously to be the cause of a social and financial crisis emanating out from that area. The oil is regarded by certain groups as a marketable good, by different parties as a research-based or mystical wonder, and by others still – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of darkness; an insult that must be obliterated. The dilemma of its source, its significance, and if it should be destroyed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
Like the first series, Lyra's decisions, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be deeply entwined with the future of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran mostly in tandem. In this final book, they converge. Similar to the first trilogy, her choices and her fate are revealed to be deeply linked with the future of the world. Her individual quest to reunite with her companion and regain her creativity becomes the key battleground in a broader battle with an oppressive regime which, as such authorities typically do, is seeking to suppress freedom of thinking, originality and art: all the inner, rebellious ways in which people can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The book starts with the unveiling of a collection of strange fissures in the makeup of the world's sky: gateways that look to open into different dimensions. A particular opening seems to be the point of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The authority, with Delamare at its helm, classifies these portals as a challenge to the religion's beliefs and sets out to destroy them. As our protagonist begins to shift from strict logic and back to feeling, however, her conviction that these locations must be defended – that their significance and their value is mysteriously vital – increases. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the imagination, or the field of roses, or no matter what we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a Blakean conflict between naivety and knowledge is established.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
