Tings are falling apart in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the second of the author's grand trilogies set in a world that seems, now more than ever, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or reassembling themselves along novel and troubling lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is shifting from states, and gathering in the halls of religious leaders, the vaults of business empires, the grasp of rioters. "Some force is at work, stealthily, gradually", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and strong are deteriorating and failing."
The Central Mystery and The Protagonist's Path
Just what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that drives The Rose Field, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth concluded. This is, by all accounts, the author's last venture into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting universe he first introduced three decades past, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a world whose geography aligns with that of our world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the individuals appear and think and behave like us, but are joined by animal souls, souls in creature form; where the heavens are populated with witches and legendary creatures, but below, transports are taken and tea is consumed, and middle-aged academics carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a infant in La Belle Sauvage, the origin story with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a adult: still clearly the sharp and persistent heroine of the earlier books, but more mature, melancholic, more careful, less certain. This circumscription is heightened by her separation from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the cause which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to leave in pursuit of that childlike part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an trait which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her journey to reunite with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which saw the protagonist undertake a wandering trek across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with amazement and danger on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the faith's ruling body, and the author's deliciously chilling embodiment of rigid, bureaucratic wickedness – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's family member, who blames her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of leader of the Magisterium's High Council, and is intent on using his fresh authority to extend the religion's dominium. A key character, who carried infant the heroine to refuge along a overflowing Thames as an young boy in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a secondary role in espionage: he is sent to Geneva to discover more about his plans. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and costly botanical extract which seems somehow to be the source of a societal and economic crisis spreading out from Central Asia. The substance is viewed by some as a tradeable product, by others as a empirical or spiritual phenomenon, and by yet others – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an challenge that must be obliterated. The dilemma of its origins, its meaning, and whether it should be destroyed or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in the first series, the heroine's deeds, and her destiny, are shown to be deeply connected with the fate of the world
In the previous volume, these storylines ran largely in tandem. In this final book, they come together. Similar to the original series, Lyra's actions and her destiny are revealed to be deeply woven with the fate of the universe. Her personal journey to rejoin with her soul and regain her vision becomes the key conflict in a wider war with an oppressive regime which, as these systems typically do, is striving to quell independence of thought, creativity and art: all the personal, resistant ways in which humans can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The story begins with the unveiling of a set of strange cracks in the structure of the planet's atmosphere: gateways that look to give on to other worlds. A particular window seems to be the point of the much debated rose oil. The authority, with the antagonist at its helm, labels these windows as a problem to the religion's beliefs and sets out to destroy them. As Lyra begins to move from inflexible rationalism and revert to instinct, nevertheless, her conviction that these places must be preserved – that what they stand for and what they offer is in some way vital – grows. "Dust, or the extract, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a poetic tussle between naivety and maturity is established.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
