Tings are collapsing in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the second of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that manifests, now more than ever, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from states, and gathering in the offices of theocrats, the vaults of business empires, the hands of rioters. "An element is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and strong are deteriorating and giving way."
Key Puzzle and Her Quest
Precisely what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that drives The Rose Field, which resumes where the previous book concluded. This is, reportedly, the author's last venture into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling universe he first unveiled three decades past, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose terrain maps on to that of our world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the humans look and think and act like us, but are paired by daemons, souls in creature form; where the skies are filled with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, transports are taken and drinks is sipped, and mature scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in the first volume, the prequel with which Pullman began the series, is now a adult: still clearly the spiky and persistent heroine of the prior volumes, but older, sadder, more cautious, less sure. This restraint is amplified by her separation from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, ironically, the cause which made him desert her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to go off in quest of that youthful part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an quality which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a picaresque trek across the continent and into the mountain region, encountering with wonder and peril on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in motion, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the church's controlling power, and Pullman's deliciously chilling representation of strict, bureaucratic wickedness – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's uncle, who faults her for his sibling's death – has worked himself into the office of leader of the authority's governing body, and is intent on using his newfound influence to extend the religion's rule. Another protagonist, who saved young Lyra to refuge along a swollen Thames as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in spycraft: he is assigned to Geneva to discover more about his plans. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and precious essential oil which seems in some way to be the origin of a social and economic crisis rippling out from Central Asia. The oil is seen by some as a marketable product, by different parties as a research-based or mystical wonder, and by yet others – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a source of evil; an affront that must be destroyed. The issue of where it comes from, what it stands for, and whether it should be removed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
Like the original trilogy, Lyra's decisions, and her destiny, are revealed to be inseparably linked with the future of the realm
In its predecessor, these storylines ran largely in parallel. In this final book, they merge. Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's choices and her path are shown to be deeply linked with the destiny of the universe. Her individual journey to reconnect with her soul and rediscover her vision becomes the primary struggle in a larger battle with an oppressive government which, as such authorities always have, is attempting to stifle independence of thinking, originality and art: all the personal, defiant ways in which individuals can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The book begins with the discovery of a series of curious openings in the makeup of the Earth's sky: gateways that seem to lead to different dimensions. One such opening manifests to be the point of the highly contested mystical extract. The authority, with its leader at its helm, labels these portals as a problem to the institution's doctrine and aims to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to turn away from strict logic and back to intuition, however, her certainty that these places must be protected – that their significance and their value is in some way essential – increases. "Dust, or rose oil, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we require it." The scene for a poetic tussle between purity and experience is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
