Tings are falling apart in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the next of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that manifests, here more than ever, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Institutions are failing, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is draining from states, and gathering in the halls of theocrats, the coffers of conglomerates, the grasp of rioters. "Some force is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and strong are weakening and failing."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that something might be, and ways to oppose it, is the question that animates The Rose Field, which continues where its predecessor left off. This is, according to many, Pullman's final excursion into the elaborately built, deeply captivating universe he first revealed 30 years ago, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose terrain corresponds to that of our world, but whose chronicles diverges and shifts with ours; where the people appear and think and behave like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, essences in beast form; where the skies are populated with enchantresses and gryphons, but beneath those skies, transports are taken and tea is drunk, and mature academics carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in the first volume, the prequel with which the author began the series, is now a mature individual: still distinctly the spiky and tenacious main character of the prior volumes, but aged, melancholic, warier, less sure. This restraint is amplified by her split from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
His choice to depart in search of that youthful part of the heroine which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he represents as her "vision"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which followed Lyra undertake a picaresque voyage across the continent and into the Caucasus, facing with wonder and risk on the way. But from the start, underlying forces were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the religious controlling power, and Pullman's deliciously chilling representation of strict, procedural wickedness – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – our protagonist's family member, who blames her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of president of the church's High Council, and is set on using his newfound power to expand the church's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued baby Lyra to refuge along a overflowing river as an young boy in the prequel, is now an academic with a secondary role in spycraft: he is sent to a key location to find out more about Delamare's intentions. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and precious botanical extract which manifests mysteriously to be the origin of a social and economic disturbance emanating out from that area. The oil is regarded by various factions as a commercial commodity, by different parties as a empirical or spiritual miracle, and by further factions – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a wellspring of darkness; an insult that must be destroyed. The dilemma of its source, its meaning, and whether it should be eliminated or protected is becoming urgent.
As in the original trilogy, the heroine's actions, and her fate, are revealed to be inextricably connected with the future of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran mostly in side by side. In this final book, they merge. Similar to the original series, her choices and her fate are shown to be inseparably entwined with the destiny of the realm. Her personal quest to rejoin with her daemon and rediscover her creativity becomes the primary battleground in a wider conflict with an authoritarian government which, as these systems often attempt, is attempting to suppress independence of thinking, originality and art: all the inner, rebellious ways in which individuals can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The book opens with the discovery of a collection of strange cracks in the fabric of the world's atmosphere: windows that seem to give on to other worlds. An example of a portal manifests to be the point of the highly contested botanical substance. The authority, with the antagonist at its leadership, labels these windows as a problem to the institution's doctrine and aims to destroy them. As Lyra begins to move from inflexible reason and return to intuition, yet, her conviction that these locations must be defended – that what they stand for and their value is mysteriously crucial – increases. "The substance, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a philosophical tussle between naivety and knowledge is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
