Tings are falling apart in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the second of the author's masterful trilogies set in a universe that seems, now more than ever, as a intense and slanted version of our own. Institutions are crumbling, or restructuring themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from states, and pooling in the halls of religious leaders, the treasuries of business empires, the hands of crowds. "Something is at work, stealthily, gradually", says trader a trader character, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his post in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and solid are faltering and giving way."
Key Puzzle and Her Quest
Just what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the question that drives the concluding book, which continues where the previous book concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's last foray into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating universe he first revealed three decades past, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose terrain corresponds to that of this world, but whose past diverges and shifts with ours; where the individuals look and reason and behave like us, but are paired by external spirits, essences in animal form; where the heavens are populated with witches and gryphons, but beneath those skies, vehicles are ridden and drinks is consumed, and mature academics carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the prequel, the prequel with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the sharp and tenacious protagonist of the prior volumes, but older, melancholic, more cautious, less certain. This restraint is intensified by her division from her daemon, Pan – 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 pursuit of that innocent part of her which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed Lyra undertake a adventurous journey across the continent and into the mountain region, encountering with wonder and risk on the way. But from the beginning, profound shifts were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the religious controlling power, and the author's deliciously chilling embodiment of rigid, bureaucratic wickedness – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. The antagonist – our protagonist's family member, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of head of the authority's High Council, and is set on using his recently acquired influence to expand the church's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who saved young the heroine to security along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an academic with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is dispatched to the city to discover more about his aims. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and costly essential oil which manifests in some way to be the origin of a social and financial disturbance rippling out from the region. The oil is viewed by various factions as a tradeable product, by different parties as a empirical or mystical phenomenon, and by further factions – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a origin of malevolence; an insult that must be destroyed. The issue of where it comes from, what it stands for, and if it should be removed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's deeds, and her destiny, are revealed to be inseparably entwined with the destiny of the universe
In its predecessor, these storylines ran largely in parallel. In this final book, they merge. Similar to the original series, Lyra's actions and her path are unveiled to be deeply woven with the destiny of the world. Her private quest to rejoin with her companion and regain her creativity becomes the key struggle in a broader conflict with an controlling government which, as such authorities often attempt, is attempting to quell independence of reason, originality and art: all the inner, defiant ways in which humans can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The novel opens with the unveiling of a set of unusual fissures in the fabric of the world's atmosphere: gateways that seem to give on to alternate realities. A particular window manifests to be the origin of the much debated botanical substance. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its helm, labels these openings as a threat to the church's doctrine and sets out to destroy them. As Lyra begins to move from rigid rationalism and back to instinct, however, her certainty that these places must be protected – that their meaning and what they provide is in some way essential – strengthens. "Dust, or the extract, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or whatever we label it," she says, "we require it." The setting for a poetic struggle between purity and knowledge is set.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
