Tings are collapsing in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that appears, now more than ever, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Power is flowing away from states, and gathering in the offices of theocrats, the coffers of conglomerates, the control of mobs. "Some force is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says businessman a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and solid are weakening and failing."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that drives this final volume, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, according to many, the author's final foray into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating world he first introduced 30 years ago, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a world whose geography corresponds to that of this world, but whose chronicles diverges and shifts with ours; where the people appear and reason and behave like us, but are joined by external spirits, beings in animal form; where the air are teeming with enchantresses and gryphons, but underneath, vehicles are ridden and drinks is sipped, and mature academics carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the prequel, the prequel with which the author began this trilogy, is now a adult: still distinctly the prickly and determined protagonist of the earlier books, but more mature, melancholic, more cautious, less sure. This circumscription is intensified by her separation from her daemon, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to leave in search of that childlike part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an trait which he symbolizes as her "creativity"), and her mission to reunite with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which saw the protagonist undertake a picaresque trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with wonder and peril on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in play, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the church's governing authority, and the author's masterfully eerie embodiment of rigid, administrative evil – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's uncle, who faults her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of leader of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is set on using his fresh influence to broaden the religion's control. Another protagonist, who saved baby Lyra to security along a flooded Thames as an young boy in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a additional duty in spycraft: he is assigned to Geneva to learn more about Delamare's aims. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and costly botanical extract which manifests in some way to be the source of a social and financial disturbance emanating out from the region. The extract is regarded by various factions as a tradeable commodity, by alternate groups as a research-based or mystical miracle, and by yet others – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of darkness; an affront that must be eradicated. The question of its origins, its significance, and whether it should be destroyed or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
Similar to the original trilogy, our protagonist's deeds, and her fate, are demonstrated to be inseparably linked with the destiny of the world
In its predecessor, these storylines ran largely in side by side. In The Rose Field, they come together. Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's actions and her path are unveiled to be deeply linked with the destiny of the realm. Her private journey to rejoin with her soul and recover her creativity becomes the central battleground in a wider war with an authoritarian system which, as such authorities always have, is attempting to quell freedom of reason, innovation and expression: all the internal, rebellious ways in which people can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The novel starts with the unveiling of a collection of strange cracks in the makeup of the world's sky: gateways that look to lead to different dimensions. One such window seems to be the origin of the much debated botanical substance. The church, with Delamare at its helm, classifies these portals as a threat to the church's doctrine and sets out to destroy them. As our protagonist begins to move from inflexible rationalism and back to feeling, yet, her certainty that these locations must be preserved – that what they stand for and what they provide is in some way crucial – grows. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or no matter what we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a poetic tussle between innocence and maturity is established.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
