Tings are collapsing in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a universe that manifests, now more than ever, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and troubling lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from governments, and pooling in the chambers of theocrats, the vaults of corporations, the hands of rioters. "An element is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says businessman a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his place in an city cafe. "Things we thought were firm and strong are weakening and collapsing."
The Central Mystery and The Protagonist's Path
Just what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that drives the concluding book, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, by all accounts, the author's last venture into the elaborately built, deeply captivating world he first revealed 30 years ago, with the launch of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose terrain aligns with that of this world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the individuals look and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, beings in beast form; where the air are teeming with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, transports are caught and beverages is consumed, and middle-aged academics carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a baby in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which the author began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the prickly and tenacious main character of the prior volumes, but aged, more sorrowful, warier, more doubtful. This circumscription is heightened by her separation from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the cause which made him desert her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
His choice to go off in pursuit of that childlike part of the heroine which she may have forgotten (an trait which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which saw the protagonist undertake a wandering trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, meeting with wonder and risk on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the faith's controlling power, and the author's masterfully eerie representation of strict, bureaucratic wickedness – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. The antagonist – our protagonist's family member, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the role of head of the authority's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his recently acquired authority to broaden the church's rule. A key character, who saved young Lyra to refuge along a overflowing river as an young boy in the first book, is now an university scholar with a secondary role in intelligence work: he is sent to a key location to learn more about Delamare's intentions. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and precious botanical extract which appears mysteriously to be the source of a societal and economic upheaval emanating out from that area. The substance is viewed by various factions as a marketable commodity, by different parties as a research-based or mystical wonder, and by further factions – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a source of evil; an insult that must be eradicated. The dilemma of its source, its meaning, and if it should be removed or safeguarded is coming rapidly to the fore.
Like the original trilogy, Lyra's decisions, and her destiny, are revealed to be inextricably connected with the fate of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran broadly in tandem. In The Rose Field, they come together. Similar to the first trilogy, her movements and her path are shown to be inseparably entwined with the destiny of the world. Her private quest to reconnect with her companion and rediscover her vision becomes the key conflict in a broader war with an authoritarian government which, as such authorities often attempt, is seeking to stifle autonomy of thinking, creativity and culture: all the internal, resistant ways in which people can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The novel starts with the unveiling of a collection of curious fissures in the makeup of the Earth's sky: gateways that look to give on to other worlds. An example of a portal manifests to be the source of the highly contested mystical extract. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its head, labels these openings as a challenge to the institution's orthodoxy and endeavors to destroy them. As our protagonist begins to turn away from inflexible reason and return to intuition, however, her belief that these sites must be protected – that their significance and what they offer is somehow vital – grows. "The substance, or the substance, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or whatever we label it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a philosophical tussle between purity and knowledge is established.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
