Tings are collapsing in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that appears, here more than ever, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is draining from authorities, and pooling in the chambers of theocrats, the treasuries of corporations, the hands of rioters. "Something is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and durable are weakening and giving way."
The Central Mystery and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the question that animates this final volume, which continues where its predecessor concluded. This is, by all accounts, the author's final venture into the elaborately built, infinitely beguiling universe he first unveiled in the distant past, with the launch of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose terrain aligns with that of the real world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the humans appear and think and behave like us, but are joined by animal souls, souls in beast form; where the skies are teeming with sorceresses and gryphons, but underneath, buses are taken and drinks is consumed, and middle-aged scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a young girl in the first trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the origin story with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a young woman: still recognisably the sharp and tenacious main character of the earlier books, but more mature, sadder, more cautious, less sure. This circumscription is intensified by her split from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to depart in quest of that youthful part of her which she may have forgotten (an quality which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which saw Lyra undertake a wandering trek across the continent and into the mountain region, encountering with marvel and peril on the way. But from the beginning, profound shifts were in play, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the religious governing authority, and the author's deliciously chilling embodiment of strict, procedural wickedness – is under new leadership, and asserting its power. The antagonist – our protagonist's family member, who faults her for his sibling's death – has worked himself into the position of leader of the authority's High Council, and is set on using his newfound influence to expand the church's dominium. Another protagonist, who carried infant Lyra to refuge along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an academic with a additional duty in espionage: he is sent to a key location to find out more about his plans. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the rare and precious essential oil which appears in some way to be the source of a social and financial crisis spreading out from the region. The extract is seen by certain groups as a marketable product, by alternate groups as a scientific or spiritual miracle, and by further factions – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a source of evil; an insult that must be destroyed. The dilemma of its source, its significance, and if it should be removed or protected is becoming urgent.
As in the first series, Lyra's actions, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be inseparably connected with the fate of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran mostly in parallel. In this final book, they converge. As in the original series, the protagonist's actions and her fate are shown to be deeply woven with the future of the realm. Her private journey to reconnect with her soul and regain her imagination becomes the primary battleground in a broader conflict with an authoritarian government which, as these systems often attempt, is attempting to suppress autonomy of thinking, originality and art: all the personal, resistant ways in which humans can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The story starts with the finding of a set of curious fissures in the makeup of the planet's sky: windows that look to give on to different dimensions. One such portal seems to be the source of the highly contested mystical extract. The church, with Delamare at its helm, labels these openings as a threat to the religion's beliefs and sets out to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to move from inflexible logic and back to instinct, however, her belief that these places must be protected – that their significance and what they provide is mysteriously essential – increases. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a Blakean conflict between naivety and maturity is set.
Story Tempo and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
