Tings are unraveling in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the second of the author's grand trilogies set in a universe that manifests, now more than ever, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or reorganizing themselves along new and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from governments, and gathering in the chambers of religious leaders, the coffers of conglomerates, the grasp of crowds. "Some force is at work, silently, very subtly", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his seat in an city cafe. "Things we thought were secure and solid are faltering and giving way."
The Central Mystery and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that propels this final volume, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final excursion into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling realm he first introduced 30 years ago, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose terrain maps on to that of this world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals appear and think and behave like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, souls in beast form; where the heavens are populated with sorceresses and gryphons, but beneath those skies, vehicles are caught and tea is consumed, and older academics carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a child in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the prequel, the prequel with which the author began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still distinctly the prickly and persistent protagonist of the earlier books, but more mature, sadder, warier, less sure. This circumscription is heightened by her split from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to depart in quest of that innocent part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an trait which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which saw the protagonist undertake a picaresque voyage across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with wonder and peril on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the faith's governing authority, and the author's masterfully eerie embodiment of austere, bureaucratic wickedness – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – Lyra's relative, who faults her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of president of the church's High Council, and is intent on using his fresh influence to broaden the religion's control. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued young Lyra to safety along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is dispatched to Geneva to discover more about the antagonist's intentions. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and valuable botanical extract which manifests in some way to be the source of a social and financial disturbance rippling out from that area. The extract is regarded by some as a tradeable commodity, by different parties as a empirical or esoteric wonder, and by others still – the zealous "highland figures" – as a source of evil; an insult that must be destroyed. The issue of where it comes from, its meaning, and if it should be destroyed or preserved is escalating in importance.
Like the original trilogy, Lyra's actions, and her fate, are revealed to be inseparably linked with the fate of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran broadly in parallel. In The Rose Field, they merge. As in His Dark Materials, the protagonist's actions and her destiny are revealed to be deeply linked with the fate of the world. Her individual quest to reconnect with her companion and regain her creativity becomes the primary struggle in a larger war with an controlling system which, as such authorities typically do, is attempting to stifle independence of thought, innovation and culture: all the inner, defiant ways in which humans can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The book opens with the unveiling of a collection of curious fissures in the fabric of the Earth's air: windows that look to open into other worlds. One such window seems to be the point of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The authority, with Delamare at its leadership, designates these openings as a challenge to the institution's doctrine and aims to destroy them. As Lyra begins to turn away from inflexible logic and revert to intuition, yet, her belief that these sites must be defended – that their meaning and what they provide is somehow essential – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the vision, or the field of roses, or no matter what we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a Blakean tussle between purity and knowledge is set.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
