Things are collapsing in the last installment of The Dust Trilogy, the second of the author's masterful trilogies set in a universe that manifests, here more than ever, as a intense and slanted version of our own. Establishments are failing, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from states, and gathering in the offices of religious leaders, the coffers of conglomerates, the grasp of rioters. "Something is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says trader a trader character, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his place in an city cafe. "Things we thought were firm and durable are deteriorating and failing."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that animates the concluding book, which picks up where its predecessor concluded. This is, by all accounts, the author's final foray into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting realm he first unveiled in the distant past, with the publication of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose landscape maps on to that of this world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the people appear and think and behave like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, beings in animal form; where the skies are teeming with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, buses are ridden and drinks is sipped, and mature scholars carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a child in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in the prequel, the introductory book with which the author began the series, is now a young woman: still distinctly the spiky and tenacious heroine of the prior volumes, but more mature, more sorrowful, warier, less certain. This restraint is amplified by her division from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
His choice to go off in pursuit of that childlike part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an trait which he represents as her "vision"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed the protagonist undertake a adventurous journey across Europe and into the Caucasus, facing with wonder and peril on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the religious controlling power, and Pullman's masterfully eerie embodiment of strict, procedural wickedness – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – our protagonist's family member, who blames her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the office of president of the authority's governing body, and is set on using his fresh authority to expand the institution's dominium. Another protagonist, who carried infant Lyra to refuge along a flooded Thames as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in espionage: he is sent to a key location to learn more about Delamare's aims. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and costly botanical extract which seems in some way to be the cause of a societal and financial upheaval rippling out from the region. The oil is seen by various factions as a commercial good, by others as a scientific or spiritual wonder, and by others still – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a origin of darkness; an affront that must be obliterated. The dilemma of its origins, its meaning, and if it should be destroyed or preserved is becoming urgent.
As in the first series, our protagonist's actions, and her fate, are shown to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran mostly in side by side. In the conclusion, they merge. Like His Dark Materials, the protagonist's choices and her path are shown to be inextricably linked with the destiny of the universe. Her personal quest to reunite with her companion and regain her vision becomes the primary conflict in a wider war with an oppressive government which, as such authorities typically do, is attempting to stifle independence of reason, creativity and culture: all the inner, defiant ways in which people can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The story opens with the discovery of a collection of unusual fissures in the makeup of the planet's sky: portals that seem to lead to other worlds. One such window manifests to be the origin of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The authority, with its leader at its helm, designates these openings as a problem to the church's doctrine and aims to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to move from strict logic and back to feeling, yet, her conviction that these sites must be protected – that their significance and what they provide is somehow vital – strengthens. "Dust, or the substance, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a poetic conflict between naivety and experience is set.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
