Things are falling apart in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that manifests, in this volume especially, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reassembling themselves along new and troubling lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from authorities, and pooling in the chambers of theocrats, the vaults of business empires, the grasp of rioters. "An element is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and strong are weakening and failing."
The Central Mystery and Her Quest
Precisely what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that drives this final volume, which continues where its predecessor left off. This is, reportedly, the author's final venture into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating world he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose geography corresponds to that of our world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and think and act like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, souls in creature form; where the skies are teeming with witches and mythical beasts, but underneath, transports are ridden and beverages is drunk, and middle-aged professors carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in the first volume, the introductory book with which Pullman began the series, is now a young woman: still distinctly the spiky and tenacious heroine of the previous installments, but more mature, sadder, more cautious, more doubtful. This circumscription is heightened by her separation from her animal guide, her daemon – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which made him desert her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
His choice to leave in quest of that innocent part of the heroine which she appears to have shed (an quality which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which saw the protagonist undertake a picaresque voyage across the continent and into the Caucasus, facing with wonder and danger on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the faith's controlling power, and Pullman's deliciously chilling incarnation of strict, procedural malice – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's family member, who blames her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the position of president of the Magisterium's governing body, and is set on using his newfound authority to extend the institution's dominium. A key character, who rescued young the heroine to refuge along a overflowing Thames as an child in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a sideline in espionage: he is sent to the city to discover more about Delamare's aims. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and valuable rose oil which manifests somehow to be the cause of a social and financial crisis rippling out from the region. The oil is seen by some as a tradeable commodity, by others as a empirical or esoteric wonder, and by others still – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a source of evil; an affront that must be destroyed. The dilemma of its source, its meaning, and if it should be eliminated or safeguarded is coming rapidly to the fore.
Similar to the original trilogy, Lyra's actions, and her future, are demonstrated to be deeply entwined with the future of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran mostly in side by side. In the conclusion, they merge. As in the first trilogy, the protagonist's choices and her fate are revealed to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the universe. Her private mission to rejoin with her companion and regain her imagination becomes the primary conflict in a larger war with an oppressive government which, as such authorities often attempt, is striving to stifle autonomy of reason, creativity and art: all the inner, resistant ways in which individuals can be independent.
Dimensional Rifts and Ideological Conflicts
The novel starts with the discovery of a series of strange cracks in the makeup of the world's sky: portals that appear to lead to different dimensions. An example of a portal seems to be the origin of the highly contested rose oil. The church, with its leader at its helm, classifies these windows as a threat to the religion's beliefs and endeavors to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to move from strict rationalism and revert to instinct, yet, her certainty that these places must be protected – that their meaning and what they offer is in some way crucial – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or no matter what we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a poetic tussle between purity and knowledge is set.
Story Tempo and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
