Things are falling apart in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the second of the author's grand trilogies set in a realm that manifests, now more than ever, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or reassembling themselves along new and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Control is shifting from states, and gathering in the offices of theocrats, the vaults of corporations, the control of mobs. "Some force is at work, silently, gradually", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his post in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and strong are weakening and failing."
Core Enigma and The Protagonist's Path
Exactly what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that drives this final volume, which continues where its predecessor concluded. This is, reportedly, the author's concluding excursion into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting universe he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose geography maps on to that of the real world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the humans appear and reason and behave like us, but are paired by external spirits, beings in beast form; where the skies are teeming with enchantresses and gryphons, but beneath those skies, vehicles are taken and beverages is sipped, and older professors carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a child in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in the prequel, the introductory book with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a young woman: still distinctly the sharp and tenacious protagonist of the prior volumes, but more mature, sadder, warier, less certain. This limitation is intensified by her split from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to depart in quest of that childlike part of the heroine which she appears to have shed (an trait which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which followed Lyra undertake a picaresque trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with amazement and risk on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in play, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the church's controlling power, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of rigid, bureaucratic evil – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's family member, who blames her for his family member's death – has positioned himself into the role of leader of the Magisterium's High Council, and is determined on using his recently acquired authority to expand the religion's control. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued baby Lyra to security along a flooded Thames as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in intelligence work: he is sent to Geneva to find out more about Delamare's aims. And underlying 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 upheaval spreading out from the region. The extract is regarded by certain groups as a tradeable good, by different parties as a research-based or spiritual miracle, and by further factions – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a source of darkness; an affront that must be eradicated. The issue of its source, its meaning, and if it should be destroyed or protected is becoming urgent.
Like the first series, our protagonist's decisions, and her future, are shown to be inextricably connected with the fate of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran broadly in tandem. In The Rose Field, they merge. Similar to the first trilogy, the protagonist's movements and her destiny are shown to be inseparably linked with the future of the world. Her individual mission to rejoin with her soul and regain her vision becomes the primary conflict in a wider battle with an controlling government which, as such authorities typically do, is seeking to suppress independence of reason, originality and expression: all the internal, defiant ways in which individuals can be independent.
Cosmic Openings and Moral Battles
The book opens with the finding of a set of curious fissures in the makeup of the Earth's air: windows that look to lead to alternate realities. An example of a portal manifests to be the point of the highly contested mystical extract. The authority, with its leader at its helm, labels these windows as a challenge to the church's doctrine and aims to destroy them. As Lyra begins to shift from strict reason and return to instinct, nevertheless, her conviction that these places must be defended – that their meaning and what they offer is somehow vital – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a philosophical struggle between naivety and knowledge is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
