Tings are unraveling in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the next of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that appears, in this volume especially, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from authorities, and pooling in the chambers of religious leaders, the treasuries of conglomerates, the control of rioters. "An element is at work, silently, gradually", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and strong are faltering and collapsing."
The Central Mystery and Her Quest
Precisely what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that animates this final volume, which continues where its predecessor concluded. This is, according to many, Pullman's last foray into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating universe he first unveiled three decades past, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose terrain corresponds to that of our world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the humans look and reason and act like us, but are paired by animal souls, souls in beast form; where the heavens are filled with sorceresses and gryphons, but below, vehicles are taken and drinks is consumed, and middle-aged professors carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first encountered as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in the prequel, the introductory book with which the author began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still recognisably the spiky and persistent protagonist of the prior volumes, but aged, sadder, more cautious, less certain. This circumscription is amplified by her separation from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the cause which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to go off in quest of that childlike part of her which she seems to have lost (an trait which he represents as her "imagination"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which chronicled Lyra undertake a adventurous voyage across the continent and into the Caucasus, facing with wonder and risk on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the faith's ruling body, and the author's deliciously chilling incarnation of rigid, procedural malice – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's relative, who blames her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the office of president of the Magisterium's High Council, and is determined on using his recently acquired authority to extend the church's dominium. A key character, who saved young the heroine to safety along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an academic with a sideline in spycraft: he is sent to Geneva to find out more about his aims. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and costly rose oil which seems mysteriously to be the origin of a societal and financial disturbance rippling out from that area. The extract is viewed by certain groups as a tradeable commodity, by different parties as a scientific or esoteric miracle, and by others still – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of evil; an affront that must be destroyed. The dilemma of its origins, its meaning, and if it should be destroyed or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.
Like the first series, the heroine's deeds, and her future, are demonstrated to be inseparably entwined with the future of the world
In the previous volume, these storylines ran broadly in side by side. In this final book, they come together. Similar to the first trilogy, Lyra's choices and her path are unveiled to be inextricably entwined with the fate of the realm. Her individual mission to rejoin with her soul and recover her vision becomes the primary battleground in a wider war with an oppressive government which, as such authorities typically do, is seeking to stifle freedom of thought, creativity and culture: all the internal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be independent.
Dimensional Rifts and Moral Battles
The book starts with the unveiling of a collection of curious openings in the fabric of the world's atmosphere: gateways that look to lead to other worlds. One such portal seems to be the origin of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The authority, with the antagonist at its leadership, labels these openings as a problem to the religion's doctrine and endeavors to destroy them. As our protagonist begins to move from strict rationalism and back to intuition, yet, her certainty that these places must be protected – that their meaning and their value is mysteriously crucial – strengthens. "The substance, or the extract, or the vision, or the field of roses, or whatever we call it," she says, "we require it." The scene for a philosophical tussle between naivety and experience is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
