Tings are unraveling in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the second of the author's masterful trilogies set in a universe that seems, now more than ever, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Institutions are failing, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from states, and gathering in the chambers of religious leaders, the treasuries of business empires, the grasp of rioters. "An element is at work, silently, gradually", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and durable are deteriorating and giving way."
The Central Mystery and The Protagonist's Path
Exactly what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the question that animates The Rose Field, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, according to many, Pullman's final excursion into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling universe he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a world whose terrain maps on to that of this world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals appear and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, souls in creature form; where the heavens are populated with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, buses are taken and beverages is drunk, 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 met once more as a baby in the prequel, the origin story with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still distinctly the spiky and determined heroine of the earlier books, but aged, more sorrowful, more careful, more doubtful. This circumscription is intensified by her division from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the cause which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to depart in search of that youthful part of her which she seems to have lost (an trait which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled Lyra undertake a wandering voyage across the continent and into the Caucasus, facing with wonder and danger on the way. But from the beginning, deeper currents were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the religious controlling power, and Pullman's deliciously chilling incarnation of austere, procedural wickedness – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's family member, who faults her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the office of president of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his recently acquired power to extend the religion's control. Another protagonist, who carried baby the heroine to safety along a overflowing river as an young boy in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a secondary role in intelligence work: he is assigned to Geneva to find out more about the antagonist's aims. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the uncommon and costly botanical extract which manifests somehow to be the cause of a societal and financial crisis emanating out from Central Asia. The oil is seen by some as a marketable product, by others as a research-based or esoteric wonder, and by further factions – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an insult that must be destroyed. The issue of where it comes from, its significance, and if it should be removed or protected is escalating in importance.
Similar to the first series, Lyra's actions, and her future, are shown to be inseparably entwined with the future of the world
In its predecessor, these storylines ran mostly in tandem. In the conclusion, they converge. Similar to the first trilogy, her choices and her fate are revealed to be inextricably entwined with the fate of the world. Her individual mission to reunite with her companion and rediscover her imagination becomes the key struggle in a wider war with an authoritarian regime which, as these systems always have, is striving to stifle freedom of thinking, creativity and expression: all the personal, rebellious ways in which people can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The story starts with the discovery of a collection of curious fissures in the structure of the planet's air: portals that seem to lead to alternate realities. An example of a opening appears to be the origin of the much debated rose oil. The church, with Delamare at its leadership, designates these windows as a challenge to the church's beliefs and aims to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to turn away from strict reason and back to intuition, however, her belief that these sites must be defended – that what they stand for and what they offer is mysteriously essential – increases. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or whatever we call it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a philosophical struggle between innocence and experience is set.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
