Things are unraveling in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a world that seems, here more than ever, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or reassembling themselves along new and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from states, and accumulating in the chambers of religious leaders, the treasuries of corporations, the control of mobs. "Something is at work, stealthily, very subtly", says trader a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his seat in an city cafe. "Things we thought were stable and strong are deteriorating and giving way."
Core Enigma and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that drives the concluding book, which picks up where the previous book left off. This is, reportedly, the author's concluding venture into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting universe he first unveiled in the distant past, with the publication of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose geography maps on to that of the real world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the individuals look and reason and behave like us, but are paired by external spirits, beings in beast form; where the air are populated with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, transports are taken and tea is consumed, and older professors carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in the prequel, the introductory book with which Pullman began the series, is now a young woman: still distinctly the prickly and persistent protagonist of the prior volumes, but aged, melancholic, warier, less certain. This restraint is amplified by her separation from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to depart in search of that innocent part of the heroine which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he represents as her "vision"), and her journey to reunite with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a wandering voyage across Europe and into the mountain region, meeting with amazement and danger on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in action, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the church's governing authority, and the author's brilliantly sinister representation of austere, procedural malice – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. The antagonist – the heroine's family member, who faults her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the role of head of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his fresh influence to expand the church's dominium. Another protagonist, who rescued young the heroine to safety along a flooded river as an young boy in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in espionage: he is sent to the city to discover more about the antagonist's aims. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and costly rose oil which seems somehow to be the cause of a societal and financial crisis rippling out from Central Asia. The oil is regarded by various factions as a tradeable good, by different parties as a empirical or esoteric wonder, and by yet others – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a source of evil; an insult that must be eradicated. The question of its origins, its significance, and whether it should be eliminated or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's decisions, and her fate, are shown to be deeply linked with the fate of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran mostly in parallel. In this final book, they merge. Similar to His Dark Materials, her actions and her fate are revealed to be inextricably linked with the future of the realm. Her private quest to rejoin with her companion and recover her imagination becomes the key struggle in a wider battle with an controlling system which, as such authorities always have, is attempting to stifle independence of thinking, innovation and expression: all the inner, rebellious ways in which individuals can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The story opens with the discovery of a series of unusual cracks in the makeup of the world's air: portals that look to lead to alternate realities. An example of a opening manifests to be the point of the fiercely disputed mystical extract. The church, with Delamare at its helm, labels these openings as a challenge to the institution's doctrine and aims to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to move from rigid rationalism and back to instinct, nevertheless, her belief that these sites must be defended – that their significance and their value is somehow vital – increases. "Dust, or the extract, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or whatever we call it," she says, "we require it." The scene for a Blakean struggle between innocence and knowledge is established.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
