Things are unraveling in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that manifests, here more than ever, as a charged and slanted version of our own. Institutions are failing, or reorganizing themselves along new and troubling lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from states, and pooling in the chambers of theocrats, the coffers of conglomerates, the control of mobs. "Something is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were firm and strong are deteriorating and failing."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Exactly what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that drives the concluding book, which resumes where its predecessor left off. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's last venture into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating universe he first introduced in the distant past, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a world whose geography aligns with that of this world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the people look and think and behave like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, essences in animal form; where the air are teeming with witches and gryphons, but below, transports are ridden and tea is sipped, and mature scholars carry luxury shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in La Belle Sauvage, the introductory book with which the author began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still distinctly the prickly and persistent main character of the prior volumes, but older, sadder, more careful, more doubtful. This restraint is amplified by her division from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to leave in quest of that youthful part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an trait which he represents as her "imagination"), and her journey to reunite with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a picaresque journey across Europe and into the mountain region, encountering with marvel and danger on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the religious ruling body, and the author's masterfully eerie embodiment of austere, administrative malice – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. The antagonist – the heroine's relative, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the role of head of the authority's High Council, and is determined on using his recently acquired influence to extend the church's rule. A key character, who carried baby the heroine to refuge along a overflowing river as an child in the first book, is now an university scholar with a secondary role in espionage: he is assigned to a key location to learn more about the antagonist's plans. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and costly essential oil which manifests somehow to be the cause of a societal and financial upheaval emanating out from the region. The oil is seen by various factions as a tradeable commodity, by others as a empirical or spiritual miracle, and by others still – the zealous "highland figures" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an affront that must be obliterated. The question of where it comes from, what it stands for, and if it should be eliminated or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in the original trilogy, the heroine's decisions, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be deeply linked with the destiny of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran broadly in side by side. In this final book, they merge. As in the original series, her actions and her path are unveiled to be inextricably linked with the fate of the realm. Her private quest to reunite with her companion and rediscover her creativity becomes the central battleground in a broader battle with an controlling government which, as these systems often attempt, is attempting to stifle freedom of thinking, innovation and culture: all the inner, rebellious ways in which humans can be independent.
Cosmic Openings and Moral Battles
The book opens with the discovery of a collection of curious openings in the makeup of the planet's sky: portals that appear to lead to alternate realities. One such window appears to be the point of the much debated rose oil. The authority, with Delamare at its head, labels these portals as a problem to the religion's doctrine and endeavors to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to shift from rigid logic and revert to feeling, however, her conviction that these places must be defended – that their significance and what they offer is mysteriously crucial – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the vision, or the field of roses, or whatever we name it," she says, "we require it." The setting for a Blakean struggle between purity and maturity is established.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
