Tings are collapsing in the last installment of The Dust Trilogy, the next of the author's grand trilogies set in a world that manifests, in this volume especially, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from governments, and accumulating in the chambers of theocrats, the vaults of business empires, the hands of rioters. "An element is at work, stealthily, gradually", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his post in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and solid are faltering and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the question that drives this final volume, which resumes where its predecessor left off. This is, reportedly, Pullman's concluding foray into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating universe he first revealed three decades past, with the publication of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose landscape aligns with that of the real world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the humans look and think and act like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, essences in beast form; where the heavens are populated with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, transports are caught and tea is sipped, and older scholars carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the origin story with which the author began this trilogy, is now a adult: still recognisably the prickly and persistent protagonist of the prior volumes, but aged, more sorrowful, warier, more doubtful. This circumscription is amplified by her division from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the cause which made him desert her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
His choice to leave in pursuit of that innocent part of her which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw the protagonist undertake a picaresque journey across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with marvel and danger on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in play, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the faith's ruling body, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister incarnation of rigid, administrative evil – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – Lyra's uncle, who blames her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of leader of the church's governing body, and is determined on using his newfound power to extend the religion's rule. A key character, who rescued baby the heroine to safety along a flooded Thames as an child in the first book, is now an academic with a sideline in intelligence work: he is dispatched to Geneva to discover more about Delamare's aims. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the rare and costly botanical extract which appears in some way to be the origin of a societal and financial crisis emanating out from Central Asia. The extract is regarded by various factions as a commercial product, by different parties as a research-based or esoteric miracle, and by others still – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of evil; an insult that must be destroyed. The dilemma of where it comes from, what it stands for, and whether it should be eliminated or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.
Similar to the original trilogy, our protagonist's actions, and her fate, are shown to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran broadly in parallel. In the conclusion, they merge. Similar to the original series, her actions and her destiny are shown to be deeply linked with the destiny of the world. Her private mission to reconnect with her companion and rediscover her creativity becomes the central struggle in a wider battle with an authoritarian government which, as these systems typically do, is seeking to stifle autonomy of reason, creativity and art: all the inner, rebellious ways in which individuals can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The novel opens with the finding of a set of strange cracks in the makeup of the world's sky: windows that look to give on to other worlds. A particular opening manifests to be the origin of the much debated mystical extract. The authority, with Delamare at its helm, labels these openings as a problem to the institution's doctrine and endeavors to destroy them. As Lyra begins to shift from strict reason and return to intuition, yet, her certainty that these places must be preserved – that their significance and what they offer is in some way crucial – grows. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or whatever we label it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a poetic conflict between purity and experience is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
