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 charged and skewed version of our own. Organizations are failing, or reorganizing themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from authorities, and pooling in the halls of theocrats, the vaults of corporations, the grasp of mobs. "An element is at work, very quietly, imperceptibly", says merchant a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the Silk Roads from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and solid are weakening and failing."
The Central Mystery and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that animates The Rose Field, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, reportedly, Pullman's concluding foray into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling universe he first introduced three decades past, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a world whose terrain maps on to that of our world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals look and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, essences in beast form; where the skies are filled with witches and gryphons, but underneath, vehicles are ridden and drinks is drunk, and middle-aged professors carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a child in the first trilogy, and then saw again as a baby in the prequel, the origin story with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still recognisably the spiky and persistent protagonist of the previous installments, but aged, more sorrowful, warier, more doubtful. This restraint is intensified by her division from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
The daemon's resolve to go off in pursuit of that childlike part of the heroine which she appears to have shed (an quality which he represents as her "creativity"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which followed the protagonist undertake a adventurous trek across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with wonder and danger on the way. But from the beginning, deeper currents were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the religious ruling body, and the author's masterfully eerie representation of rigid, bureaucratic malice – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – our protagonist's relative, who faults her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of leader of the church's governing body, and is determined on using his fresh authority to broaden the church's rule. A key character, who saved young Lyra to refuge along a flooded Thames as an child in the first book, is now an academic with a secondary role in spycraft: he is assigned to a key location to learn more about the antagonist's plans. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the rare and valuable essential oil which manifests in some way to be the origin of a social and economic disturbance emanating out from Central Asia. The substance is seen by some as a tradeable product, by others as a research-based or mystical wonder, and by others still – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a origin of evil; an affront that must be destroyed. The question of its source, what it stands for, and if it should be eliminated or protected is becoming urgent.
As in His Dark Materials, our protagonist's deeds, and her fate, are demonstrated to be inseparably connected with the destiny of the world
In its predecessor, these storylines ran broadly in side by side. In the conclusion, they converge. Similar to the original series, Lyra's choices and her fate are unveiled to be deeply linked with the destiny of the realm. Her private mission to rejoin with her soul and regain her vision becomes the key battleground in a wider battle with an authoritarian regime which, as such regimes typically do, is striving to stifle autonomy of thought, originality and art: all the internal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be independent.
Dimensional Rifts and Moral Battles
The story begins with the finding of a series of curious cracks in the fabric of the world's air: windows that seem to lead to other worlds. One such opening seems to be the point of the highly contested botanical substance. The Magisterium, with its leader at its leadership, labels these portals as a threat to the religion's beliefs and sets out to destroy them. As Lyra begins to turn away from rigid logic and revert to feeling, nevertheless, her certainty that these places must be defended – that their meaning and what they offer is mysteriously vital – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the vision, or the field of roses, or no matter what we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a poetic conflict between purity and maturity is established.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
