Tings are collapsing in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the second of the author's masterful trilogies set in a world that appears, here more than ever, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and troubling lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from authorities, and pooling in the chambers of religious leaders, the vaults of conglomerates, the grasp of rioters. "An element is at work, very quietly, imperceptibly", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his post in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and strong are faltering and giving way."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that drives the concluding book, which resumes where the previous book ended. This is, reportedly, the author's last foray into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling realm he first unveiled in the distant past, with the launch of Northern Lights. It's a world whose terrain maps on to that of this world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the people look and reason and act like us, but are paired by daemons, essences in beast form; where the skies are filled with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but below, buses are taken and drinks is drunk, and mature scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the prequel, the introductory book with which Pullman began the series, is now a young woman: still clearly the sharp and determined protagonist of the previous installments, but older, melancholic, more careful, less sure. This limitation is intensified by her split from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the cause which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to leave in search of that childlike part of the heroine which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her mission to reunite with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw Lyra undertake a picaresque voyage across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with marvel and peril on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in action, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the faith's governing authority, and the author's masterfully eerie representation of rigid, bureaucratic wickedness – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's uncle, who holds responsible her for his sibling's death – has worked himself into the role of head of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his fresh influence to broaden the religion's rule. A key character, who rescued baby Lyra to security along a flooded river as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a secondary role in spycraft: he is assigned to a key location to find out more about his aims. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and precious botanical extract which appears in some way to be the origin of a societal and economic crisis rippling out from that area. The oil is seen by certain groups as a tradeable good, by others as a research-based or mystical miracle, and by further factions – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a wellspring of evil; an challenge that must be destroyed. The issue of its source, its meaning, and whether it should be eliminated or protected is escalating in importance.
Like the original trilogy, our protagonist's actions, and her fate, are demonstrated to be inseparably entwined with the destiny of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran largely in tandem. In the conclusion, they come together. Similar to the original series, the protagonist's movements and her destiny are shown to be inseparably woven with the fate of the realm. Her individual journey to rejoin with her daemon and recover her creativity becomes the central battleground in a broader war with an oppressive system which, as these systems often attempt, is seeking to stifle freedom of thought, originality and expression: all the personal, defiant ways in which individuals can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The book begins with the finding of a set of curious cracks in the fabric of the planet's air: gateways that look to give on to different dimensions. A particular portal appears to be the source of the highly contested rose oil. The church, with Delamare at its helm, labels these openings as a problem to the church's doctrine and sets out to eradicate them. As our protagonist begins to turn away from rigid logic and revert to feeling, yet, her conviction that these locations must be defended – that what they stand for and their value is somehow crucial – grows. "Dust, or the substance, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a philosophical tussle between naivety and knowledge is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
