Things are collapsing in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a universe that seems, in this volume especially, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or restructuring themselves along new and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Power is draining from states, and accumulating in the chambers of religious leaders, the coffers of conglomerates, the control of mobs. "Something is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his post in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and solid are deteriorating and collapsing."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that animates this final volume, which resumes where the previous book concluded. This is, according to many, Pullman's final venture into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling world he first revealed in the distant past, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose terrain maps on to that of this world, but whose chronicles diverges and shifts with ours; where the humans look and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by daemons, beings in animal form; where the air are teeming with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but below, transports are caught and tea is drunk, and mature scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in La Belle Sauvage, the introductory book with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a young woman: still recognisably the sharp and persistent heroine of the prior volumes, but aged, melancholic, more careful, less sure. This circumscription is intensified by her separation from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the cause which led him to leave her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
The daemon's resolve to depart in pursuit of that innocent part of her which she appears to have shed (an trait which he represents as her "creativity"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a picaresque journey across Europe and into the Caucasus, facing with amazement and danger on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in motion, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the religious controlling power, and the author's deliciously chilling representation of rigid, bureaucratic wickedness – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's family member, who blames her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of head of the church's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his fresh authority to expand the church's control. A key character, who rescued baby Lyra to safety along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an university scholar with a sideline in espionage: he is dispatched to Geneva to discover more about the antagonist's plans. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and precious essential oil which appears in some way to be the origin of a social and financial upheaval emanating out from that area. The oil is viewed by various factions as a tradeable product, by others as a research-based or spiritual wonder, and by others still – the zealous "highland figures" – as a wellspring of darkness; an challenge that must be destroyed. The question of its source, its meaning, and whether it should be removed or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.
Similar to the first series, our protagonist's deeds, and her fate, are demonstrated to be inextricably entwined with the future of the universe
In the previous volume, these narratives ran largely in side by side. In the conclusion, they come together. Similar to the first trilogy, Lyra's choices and her destiny are shown to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the universe. Her individual journey to reunite with her daemon and recover her creativity becomes the key conflict in a broader battle with an controlling system which, as such authorities often attempt, is attempting to stifle independence of thinking, creativity and culture: all the internal, defiant ways in which people can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The book opens with the discovery of a set of curious fissures in the fabric of the world's atmosphere: gateways that appear to give on to different dimensions. One such portal appears to be the source of the much debated mystical extract. The church, with its leader at its head, classifies these openings as a problem to the church's orthodoxy and aims to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to shift from strict rationalism and return to instinct, nevertheless, her belief that these sites must be defended – that their significance and what they offer is mysteriously vital – grows. "The substance, or rose oil, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we require it." The setting for a philosophical struggle between naivety and knowledge is established.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
