Things are falling apart in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a world that seems, in this volume especially, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Organizations are crumbling, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Power is flowing away from states, and pooling in the chambers of theocrats, the vaults of conglomerates, the hands of rioters. "An element is at work, stealthily, very subtly", says businessman a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and solid are weakening and giving way."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Precisely what that something might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that animates this final volume, which continues where the previous book ended. This is, reportedly, the author's concluding excursion into the elaborately built, infinitely beguiling world he first revealed in the distant past, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose geography aligns with that of this world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the people look and reason and act like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, beings in creature form; where the air are filled with witches and gryphons, but below, vehicles are ridden and tea is sipped, and older professors carry luxury shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in the prequel, the introductory book with which the author began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still clearly the prickly and determined heroine of the earlier books, but older, sadder, warier, less sure. This restraint is amplified by her split from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the cause which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
His choice to depart in search of that childlike part of her which she seems to have lost (an trait which he represents as her "creativity"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a adventurous voyage across the continent and into the Caucasus, facing with amazement and danger on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in action, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the church's ruling body, and the author's brilliantly sinister representation of rigid, administrative malice – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – Lyra's family member, who blames her for his sibling's death – has positioned himself into the position of leader of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is set on using his newfound power to expand the church's dominium. Another protagonist, who carried infant the heroine to safety along a flooded Thames as an child in La Belle Sauvage, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in spycraft: he is assigned to a key location to find out more about the antagonist's intentions. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and valuable essential oil which seems somehow to be the source of a societal and economic crisis rippling out from Central Asia. The extract is regarded by certain groups as a tradeable commodity, by alternate groups as a research-based or spiritual miracle, and by yet others – the extremist "highland figures" – as a source of evil; an challenge that must be obliterated. The dilemma of where it comes from, its meaning, and if it should be destroyed or protected is escalating in importance.
Similar to the first series, our protagonist's actions, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be inextricably entwined with the fate of the world
In its predecessor, these plots ran mostly in tandem. In the conclusion, they come together. Similar to His Dark Materials, the protagonist's movements and her fate are shown to be deeply entwined with the future of the realm. Her private journey to rejoin with her soul and recover her imagination becomes the central battleground in a larger battle with an authoritarian regime which, as such regimes often attempt, is attempting to stifle independence of thinking, originality and expression: all the personal, rebellious ways in which humans can be independent.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The book opens with the finding of a series of curious cracks in the structure of the planet's air: portals that appear to open into other worlds. One such portal appears to be the source of the much debated rose oil. The authority, with the antagonist at its head, labels these openings as a challenge to the church's beliefs and endeavors to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to move from strict logic and back to intuition, nevertheless, her certainty that these places must be protected – that their significance and their value is in some way vital – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or whatever we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a philosophical tussle between naivety and maturity is set.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
