Things are collapsing in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the second of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a world that manifests, here more than ever, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Organizations are failing, or reassembling themselves along novel 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". Authority is draining from governments, and pooling in the offices of religious leaders, the vaults of business empires, the grasp of crowds. "Some force is at work, very quietly, gradually", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and solid are weakening and collapsing."
The Central Mystery and The Protagonist's Path
Exactly what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that propels The Rose Field, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's concluding foray into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating world he first introduced 30 years ago, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose geography aligns with that of this world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and think and behave like us, but are paired by daemons, beings in creature form; where the skies are filled with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, vehicles are taken and beverages is drunk, and older scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the first volume, the prequel with which Pullman began the series, is now a young woman: still recognisably the spiky and determined heroine of the earlier books, but aged, sadder, more cautious, less sure. This restraint is heightened by her separation from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
The daemon's resolve to go off in quest of that innocent part of her which she appears to have shed (an trait which he epitomises as her "vision"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed Lyra undertake a picaresque voyage across Europe and into the Caucasus, encountering with marvel and danger on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the faith's controlling power, and Pullman's deliciously chilling representation of rigid, bureaucratic malice – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – our protagonist's family member, who faults her for his sibling's death – has positioned himself into the position of leader of the church's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his fresh influence to broaden the institution's dominium. Another protagonist, who carried young Lyra to safety along a overflowing river as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an university scholar with a sideline in intelligence work: he is sent to Geneva to learn more about Delamare's intentions. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the rare and valuable essential oil which manifests somehow to be the origin of a societal and financial disturbance emanating out from that area. The extract is regarded by certain groups as a tradeable product, by others as a research-based or esoteric phenomenon, and by yet others – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a origin of malevolence; an affront that must be obliterated. The issue of where it comes from, what it stands for, and if it should be removed or safeguarded is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in His Dark Materials, the heroine's decisions, and her fate, are shown to be deeply connected with the fate of the universe
In its predecessor, these narratives ran broadly in parallel. In this final book, they merge. Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's actions and her fate are revealed to be inseparably woven with the fate of the world. Her individual mission to rejoin with her daemon and regain her creativity becomes the central battleground in a larger conflict with an authoritarian regime which, as such regimes typically do, is striving to suppress independence of reason, originality and expression: all the personal, rebellious ways in which people can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The story starts with the unveiling of a collection of strange fissures in the structure of the planet's sky: gateways that seem to lead to other worlds. One such portal seems to be the point of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its head, designates these openings as a challenge to the institution's doctrine and endeavors to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to move from rigid logic and return to instinct, nevertheless, her belief that these sites must be preserved – that their meaning and their value is mysteriously essential – grows. "The substance, or rose oil, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a Blakean tussle between naivety and maturity is set.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
