Tings are falling apart in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a realm that appears, in this volume especially, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or restructuring themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from states, and gathering in the chambers of religious leaders, the vaults of conglomerates, the control of mobs. "Some force is at work, very quietly, gradually", says trader a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his post in an city cafe. "Things we thought were firm and durable are weakening and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and Her Quest
Precisely what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that propels the concluding book, which picks up where its predecessor ended. This is, according to many, Pullman's final foray into the elaborately built, deeply captivating world he first introduced 30 years ago, with the launch of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose geography aligns with that of our world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the people look and think and behave like us, but are paired by animal souls, beings in beast form; where the heavens are populated with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but underneath, transports are ridden and drinks is sipped, and middle-aged academics carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first encountered as a child in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the prequel, the origin story with which the author began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the spiky and persistent protagonist of the previous installments, but older, melancholic, more cautious, less sure. This restraint is amplified by her separation from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to depart in quest of that innocent part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "creativity"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which chronicled Lyra undertake a adventurous journey across Europe and into the mountain region, meeting with wonder and danger on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in action, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the faith's controlling power, and the author's masterfully eerie embodiment of strict, administrative malice – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – our protagonist's relative, who blames her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the role of leader of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his recently acquired influence to extend the institution's control. Another protagonist, who carried infant the heroine to safety along a overflowing river as an young boy in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a sideline in espionage: he is sent to the city to discover more about Delamare's plans. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the rare and precious botanical extract which seems somehow to be the source of a social and economic crisis emanating out from Central Asia. The oil is seen by certain groups as a commercial good, by different parties as a empirical or mystical wonder, and by further factions – the extremist "highland figures" – as a origin of evil; an insult that must be eradicated. The issue of where it comes from, what it stands for, and whether it should be removed or protected is escalating in importance.
Like the first series, our protagonist's deeds, and her fate, are demonstrated to be inextricably connected with the future of the world
In the previous volume, these narratives ran broadly in side by side. In the conclusion, they come together. As in the first trilogy, the protagonist's actions and her destiny are shown to be inextricably linked with the destiny of the world. Her private mission to reunite with her daemon and rediscover her creativity becomes the key conflict in a broader war with an oppressive government which, as such regimes always have, is striving to quell independence of thinking, originality and culture: all the personal, resistant ways in which humans can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The book opens with the unveiling of a set of curious fissures in the fabric of the planet's air: portals that appear to give on to other worlds. An example of a opening appears to be the source of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The church, with the antagonist at its helm, labels these portals as a problem to the institution's doctrine and endeavors to destroy them. As Lyra begins to move from rigid logic and return to feeling, yet, her certainty that these places must be protected – that their significance and their value is somehow essential – increases. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or whatever we name it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a poetic conflict between naivety and maturity is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
