Tings are unraveling in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the next of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that manifests, here more than ever, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or restructuring themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is draining from authorities, and pooling in the chambers of religious leaders, the treasuries of business empires, the control of crowds. "Some force is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his seat in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and strong are weakening and giving way."
Key Puzzle and Her Quest
Just what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the question that propels this final volume, which resumes where its predecessor ended. This is, reportedly, Pullman's concluding excursion into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating world he first revealed in the distant past, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose geography corresponds to that of the real world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the humans look and reason and act like us, but are paired by animal souls, beings in creature form; where the skies are populated with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, buses are caught and tea is drunk, and middle-aged academics carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a child in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in the first volume, the introductory book with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still clearly the prickly and determined protagonist of the prior volumes, but more mature, melancholic, more cautious, less sure. This circumscription is intensified by her separation from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to go off in pursuit of that childlike part of her which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he represents as her "imagination"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which saw the protagonist undertake a adventurous voyage across Europe and into the mountain region, encountering with wonder and risk on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in play, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the religious ruling body, and the author's brilliantly sinister representation of rigid, procedural wickedness – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's uncle, who faults her for his sibling's death – has worked himself into the role of leader of the church's ruling assembly, and is set on using his recently acquired authority to broaden the institution's dominium. Another protagonist, who carried baby the heroine to safety along a swollen river as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a secondary role in spycraft: he is dispatched to Geneva to discover more about his plans. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and costly rose oil which seems somehow to be the cause of a social and economic crisis rippling out from that area. The substance is regarded by various factions as a commercial commodity, by different parties as a research-based or spiritual wonder, and by yet others – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of darkness; an affront that must be destroyed. The question of its source, its meaning, and if it should be eliminated or protected is becoming urgent.
Similar to the first series, Lyra's actions, and her future, are shown to be inextricably linked with the destiny of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran broadly in tandem. In the conclusion, they converge. Like the original series, Lyra's choices and her destiny are shown to be inextricably linked with the future of the world. Her individual quest to reunite with her daemon and rediscover her creativity becomes the key struggle in a broader battle with an authoritarian government which, as such authorities typically do, is seeking to stifle independence of reason, creativity and culture: all the inner, defiant ways in which humans can be independent.
Dimensional Rifts and Ideological Conflicts
The novel opens with the discovery of a set of strange cracks in the fabric of the world's atmosphere: portals that look to open into alternate realities. One such window appears to be the origin of the highly contested mystical extract. The church, with Delamare at its helm, labels these openings as a challenge to the church's beliefs and endeavors to destroy them. As our protagonist begins to turn away from inflexible reason and back to instinct, nevertheless, her conviction that these sites must be protected – that what they stand for and what they offer is somehow essential – increases. "Dust, or rose oil, or the vision, or the field of roses, or no matter what we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a Blakean conflict between innocence and maturity is established.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
