Things are falling apart in the last installment of The Dust Trilogy, the second of the author's masterful trilogies set in a world that appears, here more than ever, as a charged and slanted version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along novel and troubling lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is draining from governments, and accumulating in the offices of religious leaders, the coffers of conglomerates, the control of mobs. "Something is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and strong are weakening and failing."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Exactly what that element 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, Pullman's last foray into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating realm he first revealed 30 years ago, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose terrain aligns with that of this world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals look and reason and act like us, but are paired by daemons, essences in beast form; where the air are populated with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but below, transports are taken and drinks is drunk, and older academics carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in the first volume, the origin story with which the author began this trilogy, is now a adult: still recognisably the spiky and persistent protagonist of the prior volumes, but older, sadder, more careful, less sure. This circumscription is heightened by her split from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
His choice to leave in pursuit of that innocent part of her which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "creativity"), and her mission to reunite with him, were the driving forces of the prior book, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a adventurous trek across the continent and into the mountain region, meeting with wonder and risk on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the religious controlling power, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister embodiment of strict, administrative evil – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's family member, who faults her for his family member's death – has positioned himself into the office of president of the authority's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his recently acquired power to broaden the institution's rule. A key character, who carried baby Lyra to safety along a swollen Thames as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in spycraft: he is assigned to the city to discover more about Delamare's aims. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the uncommon and costly essential oil which manifests somehow to be the source of a social and economic disturbance spreading out from the region. The extract is regarded by various factions as a commercial commodity, by different parties as a empirical or mystical phenomenon, and by further factions – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a source of evil; an insult that must be destroyed. The issue of its source, its meaning, and if it should be eliminated or protected is escalating in importance.
Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's actions, and her destiny, are shown to be inseparably entwined with the destiny of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran broadly in side by side. In the conclusion, they come together. Similar to the original series, the protagonist's movements and her path are unveiled to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the universe. Her private mission to reunite with her soul and rediscover her vision becomes the central conflict in a larger war with an authoritarian regime which, as these systems always have, is seeking to stifle independence of thought, creativity and art: all the internal, defiant ways in which people can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The book opens with the unveiling of a series of curious openings in the structure of the Earth's sky: portals that appear to open into alternate realities. A particular window seems to be the source of the highly contested rose oil. The Magisterium, with its leader at its helm, designates these openings as a challenge to the religion's beliefs and aims to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to move from rigid logic and return to intuition, however, her conviction that these sites must be preserved – that their meaning and what they offer is mysteriously vital – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the vision, or the field of roses, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a poetic tussle between innocence and maturity is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
