Tings are unraveling in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that manifests, here more than ever, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or reassembling themselves along new and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from states, and pooling in the halls of religious leaders, the coffers of business empires, the grasp of rioters. "Something is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and strong are weakening and giving way."
The Central Mystery and Her Quest
Exactly what that something might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that animates the concluding book, which resumes where the previous book left off. This is, reportedly, the author's concluding excursion into the elaborately built, deeply captivating realm he first introduced in the distant past, with the publication of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose terrain aligns with that of the real world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals appear and think and behave like us, but are joined by daemons, essences in creature form; where the air are populated with enchantresses and gryphons, but below, vehicles are taken and beverages is drunk, and mature scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a baby in La Belle Sauvage, the origin story with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still clearly the spiky and persistent heroine of the prior volumes, but older, more sorrowful, warier, less sure. This circumscription is heightened by her split from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the cause which led him to leave her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
The daemon's resolve to depart in search of that childlike part of her which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her journey to reunite with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw the protagonist undertake a picaresque journey across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with amazement and danger on the way. But from the beginning, profound shifts were in motion, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the church's controlling power, and the author's brilliantly sinister incarnation of rigid, administrative evil – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. The antagonist – our protagonist's relative, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the role of president of the authority's governing body, and is determined on using his fresh authority to extend the church's rule. A key character, who rescued young the heroine to refuge along a swollen Thames as an child in the prequel, is now an academic with a sideline in spycraft: he is assigned to the city to learn more about Delamare's aims. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and valuable rose oil which appears mysteriously to be the cause of a social and economic crisis rippling out from Central Asia. The extract is seen by various factions as a tradeable product, by different parties as a empirical or spiritual wonder, and by further factions – the zealous "highland figures" – as a origin of darkness; an insult that must be destroyed. The issue of its origins, its meaning, and if it should be destroyed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
Similar to His Dark Materials, our protagonist's decisions, and her fate, are revealed to be inextricably linked with the future of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran broadly in parallel. In the conclusion, they converge. Like the first trilogy, her choices and her destiny are shown to be deeply woven with the destiny of the world. Her private quest to reconnect with her daemon and recover her imagination becomes the primary conflict in a larger war with an oppressive system which, as such authorities always have, is striving to stifle independence of reason, creativity and culture: all the inner, rebellious ways in which humans can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The novel starts with the unveiling of a series of unusual fissures in the structure of the world's sky: windows that look to lead to other worlds. One such window appears to be the origin of the much debated botanical substance. The Magisterium, with its leader at its leadership, classifies these openings as a threat to the institution's orthodoxy and endeavors to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to shift from rigid rationalism and return to feeling, yet, her belief that these places must be defended – that their significance and what they provide is in some way essential – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or whatever we label it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a philosophical struggle between purity and maturity is established.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
