Tings are unraveling in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a world that manifests, here more than ever, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and troubling lines. An invisible force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from authorities, and pooling in the chambers of religious leaders, the treasuries of corporations, the control of mobs. "An element is at work, very quietly, gradually", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his place in an city cafe. "Things we thought were firm and durable are weakening and giving way."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that animates this final volume, which resumes where its predecessor left off. This is, according to many, Pullman's concluding venture into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating universe he first revealed 30 years ago, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose terrain aligns with that of this world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the individuals appear and think and behave like us, but are paired by daemons, beings in beast form; where the air are filled with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but underneath, transports are taken and beverages is drunk, and older scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first met as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the first volume, the introductory book with which the author began this trilogy, is now a adult: still distinctly the sharp and tenacious main character of the prior volumes, but more mature, sadder, warier, less sure. This limitation is amplified by her split from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the cause which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
His choice to leave in quest of that childlike part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which followed Lyra undertake a wandering journey across Europe and into the Caucasus, meeting with wonder and risk on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the religious ruling body, and Pullman's masterfully eerie representation of strict, procedural wickedness – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – our protagonist's uncle, who faults her for his family member's death – has positioned himself into the role of president of the church's High Council, and is determined on using his fresh influence to extend the church's dominium. Another protagonist, who carried young the heroine to security along a overflowing river as an child in the prequel, is now an academic with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is sent to Geneva to discover more about Delamare's intentions. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and precious rose oil which seems mysteriously to be the cause of a social and economic crisis rippling out from Central Asia. The oil is regarded by various factions as a marketable commodity, by alternate groups as a empirical or spiritual wonder, and by yet others – the extremist "highland figures" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an insult that must be obliterated. The issue of its source, what it stands for, and whether it should be removed or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
Like His Dark Materials, our protagonist's deeds, and her future, are shown to be inextricably connected with the future of the universe
In its predecessor, these storylines ran largely in side by side. In this final book, they merge. Like the first trilogy, the protagonist's choices and her destiny are revealed to be inseparably linked with the fate of the realm. Her personal quest to rejoin with her companion and recover her creativity becomes the primary conflict in a larger war with an authoritarian government which, as these systems typically do, is seeking to quell freedom of thinking, creativity and culture: all the personal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be independent.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The story begins with the unveiling of a set of unusual cracks in the fabric of the world's sky: gateways that appear to lead to other worlds. A particular portal seems to be the point of the fiercely disputed mystical extract. The church, with Delamare at its head, designates these openings as a problem to the religion's beliefs and endeavors to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to turn away from inflexible logic and revert to feeling, however, her conviction that these places must be protected – that what they stand for and what they provide is in some way vital – grows. "The substance, or the substance, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a philosophical struggle between naivety and maturity is established.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
