Things are unraveling in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a world that seems, in this volume especially, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Institutions are crumbling, or restructuring themselves along new and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from authorities, and gathering in the halls of religious leaders, the treasuries of business empires, the hands of mobs. "Some force is at work, silently, gradually", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and durable are weakening and giving way."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Just what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that animates this final volume, which resumes where its predecessor concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final venture into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating universe he first revealed in the distant past, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a world whose geography aligns with that of this world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and reason and behave like us, but are joined by external spirits, essences in animal form; where the heavens are filled with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, buses are ridden and drinks is sipped, and older scholars carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the sharp and persistent protagonist of the prior volumes, but aged, more sorrowful, more careful, less sure. This limitation is intensified by her division from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which made him desert her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
The daemon's resolve to leave in search of that youthful part of her which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her journey to reunite with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which saw the protagonist undertake a picaresque journey across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with wonder and danger on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in play, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the church's ruling body, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister incarnation of rigid, administrative wickedness – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. The antagonist – our protagonist's uncle, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has positioned himself into the position of head of the authority's governing body, and is determined on using his fresh authority to broaden the institution's rule. A key character, who carried young Lyra to refuge along a flooded river as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a secondary role in intelligence work: he is assigned to the city to discover more about Delamare's plans. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and precious botanical extract which manifests in some way to be the cause of a social and economic upheaval spreading out from Central Asia. The extract is seen by certain groups as a commercial commodity, by others as a scientific or mystical phenomenon, and by yet others – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a origin of malevolence; an challenge that must be eradicated. The question of its source, what it stands for, and whether it should be destroyed or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in His Dark Materials, our protagonist's decisions, and her future, are shown to be inseparably entwined with the future of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran mostly in tandem. In the conclusion, they converge. Similar to the first trilogy, Lyra's movements and her fate are revealed to be inseparably linked with the fate of the realm. Her private quest to reconnect with her companion and recover her vision becomes the primary battleground in a broader battle with an authoritarian system which, as such authorities often attempt, is seeking to quell autonomy of thinking, originality and art: all the internal, rebellious ways in which people can be independent.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The book begins with the unveiling of a series of curious cracks in the structure of the Earth's atmosphere: windows that appear to give on to other worlds. A particular window manifests to be the source of the much debated mystical extract. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its head, labels these portals as a threat to the church's beliefs and aims to destroy them. As the heroine begins to shift from strict rationalism and revert to feeling, yet, her certainty that these sites must be defended – that their significance and their value is in some way vital – grows. "Dust, or the substance, or the imagination, or the field of roses, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a poetic tussle between innocence and knowledge is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
