Tings are collapsing in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the second of the author's grand trilogies set in a realm that manifests, now more than ever, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or reassembling themselves along new and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from authorities, and accumulating in the halls of religious leaders, the vaults of conglomerates, the control of mobs. "Something is at work, silently, very subtly", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and solid are weakening and collapsing."
The Central Mystery and Her Quest
Precisely what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that animates the concluding book, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final venture into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting world he first introduced in the distant past, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose geography aligns with that of our world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the people appear and think and act like us, but are paired by external spirits, beings in creature form; where the air are filled with witches and gryphons, but beneath those skies, vehicles are ridden and beverages is consumed, and older academics carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the origin story with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a adult: still recognisably the prickly and persistent main character of the earlier books, but more mature, melancholic, warier, less certain. This restraint is intensified by her division from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the cause which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to go off in pursuit of that youthful part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a picaresque voyage across Europe and into the mountain region, encountering with amazement and risk on the way. But from the start, underlying forces were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the church's governing authority, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of austere, administrative evil – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's family member, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has positioned himself into the position of president of the Magisterium's governing body, and is determined on using his fresh influence to expand the church's dominium. Another protagonist, who rescued baby Lyra to refuge along a swollen Thames as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is assigned to the city to learn more about his plans. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and precious botanical extract which seems in some way to be the source of a social and economic crisis rippling out from the region. The substance is regarded by some as a commercial commodity, by alternate groups as a research-based or esoteric miracle, and by yet others – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an challenge that must be eradicated. The dilemma of where it comes from, its meaning, and if it should be removed or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in the original trilogy, our protagonist's deeds, and her future, are shown to be deeply connected with the destiny of the realm
In the previous volume, these storylines ran mostly in side by side. In the conclusion, they come together. As in His Dark Materials, the protagonist's movements and her path are unveiled to be deeply linked with the destiny of the realm. Her private quest to reunite with her companion and rediscover her vision becomes the central battleground in a broader battle with an controlling regime which, as such regimes typically do, is attempting to stifle autonomy of thought, originality and culture: all the personal, resistant ways in which individuals can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The story starts with the unveiling of a collection of strange cracks in the fabric of the planet's air: windows that look to give on to other worlds. An example of a portal seems to be the source of the much debated mystical extract. The church, with Delamare at its leadership, labels these portals as a challenge to the institution's orthodoxy and aims to destroy them. As the heroine begins to shift from rigid reason and revert to feeling, yet, her certainty that these places must be defended – that their significance and what they provide is somehow crucial – increases. "The substance, or the extract, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we require it." The scene for a Blakean conflict between naivety and maturity is established.
Story Tempo and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
