Tings are collapsing in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the next of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that appears, here more than ever, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Organizations are crumbling, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from states, and gathering in the halls of theocrats, the coffers of corporations, the control of rioters. "Some force is at work, very quietly, imperceptibly", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and strong are deteriorating and collapsing."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that animates this final volume, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth concluded. This is, by all accounts, the author's concluding excursion into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating universe he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a world whose landscape maps on to that of our world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the people appear and think and act like us, but are paired by external spirits, essences in animal form; where the skies are teeming with witches and legendary creatures, but underneath, buses are caught and tea is sipped, and older academics carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in the first volume, the origin story with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still distinctly the spiky and determined main character of the earlier books, but more mature, melancholic, warier, less certain. This limitation is heightened by her separation from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to leave in search of that youthful part of her which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which chronicled Lyra undertake a wandering trek across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with amazement and danger on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in action, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the faith's governing authority, and Pullman's masterfully eerie embodiment of strict, administrative wickedness – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's family member, who holds responsible her for his sibling's death – has positioned himself into the role of leader of the church's High Council, and is intent on using his recently acquired power to extend the religion's control. Another protagonist, who carried young the heroine to refuge along a flooded river as an child in the first book, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in spycraft: he is sent to the city to learn more about Delamare's aims. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and precious rose oil which seems in some way to be the cause of a social and financial crisis rippling out from Central Asia. The oil is viewed by some as a tradeable product, by alternate groups as a scientific or spiritual miracle, and by further factions – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a source of darkness; an challenge that must be destroyed. The issue of where it comes from, its significance, and if it should be eliminated or preserved is escalating in importance.
Similar to the original trilogy, the heroine's decisions, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be deeply connected with the future of the realm
In the previous volume, these storylines ran mostly in side by side. In this final book, they converge. Like the first trilogy, her choices and her fate are revealed to be deeply woven with the destiny of the world. Her personal journey to reunite with her daemon and recover her creativity becomes the primary battleground in a broader war with an authoritarian system which, as these systems often attempt, is seeking to stifle freedom of thinking, creativity and art: all the personal, defiant ways in which humans can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The novel begins with the discovery of a set of unusual cracks in the makeup of the planet's air: portals that look to open into other worlds. An example of a window seems to be the source of the fiercely disputed mystical extract. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its helm, labels these portals as a problem to the institution's beliefs and sets out to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to move from rigid logic and revert to instinct, yet, her certainty that these places must be protected – that what they stand for and what they offer is mysteriously essential – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or whatever we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a philosophical tussle between purity and knowledge is set.
Story Tempo and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
