Things are unraveling in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the second of the author's grand trilogies set in a world that manifests, now more than ever, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along new and troubling lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from governments, and gathering in the chambers of religious leaders, the vaults of business empires, the grasp of crowds. "Some force is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and durable are faltering and giving way."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Just what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the question that propels the concluding book, which picks up where the previous book left off. This is, according to many, Pullman's concluding foray into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting universe he first introduced 30 years ago, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose terrain corresponds to that of this world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and think and act like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, beings in creature form; where the air are populated with witches and mythical beasts, but underneath, vehicles are caught and beverages is sipped, and middle-aged scholars carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a baby in the prequel, the introductory book with which the author began the series, is now a adult: still clearly the prickly and persistent heroine of the previous installments, but aged, sadder, more careful, less certain. This limitation is amplified by her split from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
His choice to depart in pursuit of that childlike part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an trait which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which followed Lyra undertake a picaresque voyage across Europe and into the Caucasus, meeting with marvel and danger on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the faith's controlling power, and the author's masterfully eerie representation of rigid, administrative wickedness – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – Lyra's relative, who blames her for his sibling's death – has worked himself into the office of head of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his newfound power to extend the religion's control. A key character, who rescued infant Lyra to safety along a flooded river as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in espionage: he is dispatched to a key location to find out more about his intentions. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and precious essential oil which appears in some way to be the origin of a social and economic crisis emanating out from that area. The oil is viewed by some as a marketable product, by different parties as a research-based or mystical miracle, and by others still – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a wellspring of evil; an affront that must be destroyed. The issue of where it comes from, its significance, and if it should be destroyed or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in the original trilogy, the heroine's actions, and her future, are shown to be inextricably entwined with the fate of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran broadly in side by side. In The Rose Field, they converge. Similar to the first trilogy, the protagonist's actions and her destiny are shown to be deeply woven with the destiny of the universe. Her personal journey to rejoin with her soul and regain her imagination becomes the key conflict in a broader battle with an controlling government which, as these systems always have, is seeking to suppress freedom of thought, creativity and art: all the inner, rebellious ways in which people can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The novel starts with the discovery of a set of unusual openings in the structure of the Earth's atmosphere: gateways that look to lead to alternate realities. An example of a window appears to be the origin of the fiercely disputed mystical extract. The Magisterium, with its leader at its helm, labels these windows as a threat to the institution's orthodoxy and endeavors to destroy them. As Lyra begins to turn away from rigid rationalism and revert to intuition, however, her certainty that these locations must be protected – that their significance and what they offer is somehow crucial – grows. "Dust, or rose oil, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a poetic tussle between purity and maturity is set.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
