Tings are falling apart in the last installment of The Dust Trilogy, the next of the author's grand trilogies set in a realm that appears, here more than ever, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along new and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from governments, and gathering in the halls of theocrats, the treasuries of corporations, the grasp of crowds. "Something is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and solid are faltering and failing."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that drives this final volume, which picks up where the previous book concluded. This is, by all accounts, the author's concluding excursion into the elaborately built, endlessly enchanting world he first revealed 30 years ago, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose geography corresponds to that of this world, but whose chronicles diverges and shifts with ours; where the individuals look and think and act like us, but are paired by animal souls, beings in animal form; where the heavens are teeming with sorceresses and gryphons, but beneath those skies, transports are ridden and beverages is consumed, and mature scholars carry luxury shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a baby in the first volume, the origin story with which the author began the series, is now a young woman: still recognisably the sharp and persistent heroine of the earlier books, but aged, more sorrowful, warier, more doubtful. This restraint is amplified by her split from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
His choice to depart in pursuit of that innocent part of the heroine which she may have forgotten (an quality which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which followed the protagonist undertake a picaresque journey across Europe and into the mountain region, meeting with marvel and peril on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in action, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the religious ruling body, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of strict, bureaucratic wickedness – is under new leadership, and asserting its power. The antagonist – Lyra's family member, who holds responsible her for his sibling's death – has positioned himself into the role of head of the authority's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his fresh authority to expand the religion's dominium. A key character, who saved infant Lyra to safety along a overflowing river as an young boy in the prequel, is now an academic with a additional duty in spycraft: he is sent to Geneva to learn more about Delamare's plans. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the uncommon and valuable botanical extract which manifests mysteriously to be the cause of a societal and economic disturbance emanating out from that area. The substance is seen by certain groups as a tradeable commodity, by others as a research-based or esoteric wonder, and by yet others – the extremist "highland figures" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an challenge that must be eradicated. The dilemma of its origins, its significance, and whether it should be removed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
As in the first series, our protagonist's deeds, and her fate, are shown to be inseparably linked with the future of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran largely in tandem. In this final book, they converge. As in the original series, Lyra's actions and her destiny are revealed to be inseparably linked with the future of the realm. Her individual mission to reunite with her soul and regain her vision becomes the key battleground in a larger war with an oppressive government which, as such authorities always have, is seeking to suppress independence of thinking, originality and art: all the inner, rebellious ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Moral Battles
The novel opens with the unveiling of a set of curious fissures in the structure of the world's atmosphere: portals that seem to give on to different dimensions. An example of a window manifests to be the point of the much debated botanical substance. The church, with its leader at its helm, designates these windows as a challenge to the religion's doctrine and endeavors to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to move from strict reason and revert to feeling, however, her belief that these places must be preserved – that their meaning and what they provide is somehow crucial – increases. "The substance, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we require it." The scene for a poetic tussle between naivety and maturity is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
