Things are collapsing in the last installment of The Dust Trilogy, the second of the author's grand trilogies set in a world that seems, now more than ever, as a charged and slanted version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or reassembling themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from governments, and pooling in the chambers of theocrats, the coffers of conglomerates, the hands of rioters. "Something is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were firm and solid are weakening and giving way."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that drives this final volume, which continues where its predecessor ended. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final foray into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting universe he first introduced 30 years ago, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose landscape maps on to that of our world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the humans look and think and act like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, essences in creature form; where the skies are populated with witches and legendary creatures, but below, buses are caught and beverages is drunk, and middle-aged academics carry fancy shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first met as a child in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in La Belle Sauvage, the introductory book with which Pullman began the series, is now a adult: still clearly the spiky and persistent heroine of the prior volumes, but more mature, sadder, warier, less certain. This limitation is amplified by her separation from her daemon, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the cause which made him desert her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
The daemon's resolve to depart in search of that childlike part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an trait which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which saw Lyra undertake a picaresque journey across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with wonder and danger on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the religious controlling power, and Pullman's deliciously chilling incarnation of strict, bureaucratic evil – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's family member, who faults her for his family member's death – has positioned himself into the role of leader of the authority's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his recently acquired power to broaden the church's rule. Another protagonist, who saved infant Lyra to refuge along a overflowing river as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a secondary role in intelligence work: he is dispatched to the city to discover more about Delamare's aims. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the rare and costly botanical extract which appears mysteriously to be the origin of a societal and economic upheaval spreading out from the region. The extract is viewed by some as a tradeable product, by different parties as a empirical or spiritual phenomenon, and by yet others – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a origin of darkness; an insult that must be eradicated. The dilemma of where it comes from, its meaning, and if it should be destroyed or protected is escalating in importance.
Similar to the first series, the heroine's actions, and her destiny, are revealed to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the universe
In its predecessor, these storylines ran broadly in side by side. In the conclusion, they merge. As in the original series, the protagonist's movements and her destiny are revealed to be inseparably woven with the future of the universe. Her personal mission to rejoin with her soul and recover her creativity becomes the key struggle in a larger war with an controlling government which, as such regimes often attempt, is attempting to stifle independence of thought, innovation and culture: all the personal, defiant ways in which humans can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The book opens with the finding of a collection of curious openings in the structure of the Earth's sky: windows that seem to open into other worlds. An example of a opening seems to be the origin of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The church, with the antagonist at its head, labels these openings as a challenge to the institution's doctrine and endeavors to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to shift from inflexible rationalism and return to feeling, yet, her belief that these locations must be preserved – that their significance and what they offer is mysteriously crucial – increases. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a Blakean tussle between purity and maturity is prepared.
Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
