Tings are unraveling in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the second of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a world that appears, now more than ever, as a intense and slanted version of our own. Institutions are failing, or reassembling themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from authorities, and gathering in the offices of theocrats, the treasuries of conglomerates, the grasp of rioters. "An element is at work, silently, gradually", says merchant a trader character, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his place in an city cafe. "Things we thought were stable and strong are faltering and giving way."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that propels the concluding book, which continues where the previous book left off. This is, reportedly, Pullman's concluding venture into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting world he first introduced in the distant past, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose geography aligns with that of this world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the humans look and think and behave like us, but are joined by external spirits, beings in animal form; where the skies are teeming with witches and gryphons, but beneath those skies, vehicles are taken and drinks is consumed, and middle-aged professors carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, 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 Pullman began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still distinctly the prickly and persistent protagonist of the previous installments, but aged, sadder, more careful, less sure. This limitation is amplified by her split from her animal guide, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
The daemon's resolve to go off in search of that childlike part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "creativity"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which chronicled Lyra undertake a adventurous journey across the continent and into the mountain region, encountering with amazement and risk on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in play, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the faith's controlling power, and Pullman's deliciously chilling representation of rigid, bureaucratic evil – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. The antagonist – the heroine's relative, who blames her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the office of head of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is set on using his recently acquired influence to extend the religion's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who saved infant Lyra to safety along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in espionage: he is assigned to the city to discover more about the antagonist's aims. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the rare and precious rose oil which manifests in some way to be the cause of a social and economic upheaval rippling out from Central Asia. The substance is viewed by some as a tradeable commodity, by different parties as a scientific or esoteric phenomenon, and by yet others – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an affront that must be eradicated. The issue of its source, what it stands for, and whether it should be removed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
Similar to the original trilogy, Lyra's actions, and her fate, are shown to be inseparably entwined with the destiny of the universe
In the previous volume, these storylines ran broadly in side by side. In the conclusion, they come together. As in His Dark Materials, the protagonist's actions and her path are shown to be deeply linked with the future of the realm. Her individual journey to rejoin with her companion and rediscover her imagination becomes the primary conflict in a larger battle with an authoritarian government which, as such authorities always have, is attempting to quell independence of reason, creativity and expression: all the personal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be independent.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The book starts with the unveiling of a set of curious fissures in the makeup of the Earth's air: gateways that appear to lead to different dimensions. One such window appears to be the source of the much debated rose oil. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its leadership, labels these openings as a threat to the religion's beliefs and endeavors to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to shift from strict logic and revert to instinct, yet, her conviction that these sites must be preserved – that their meaning and what they provide is mysteriously vital – increases. "Dust, or rose oil, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or whatever we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a Blakean conflict between purity and maturity is established.
Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
