Things are collapsing in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the next of the author's grand trilogies set in a universe that appears, here more than ever, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Power is draining from states, and pooling in the chambers of religious leaders, the vaults of conglomerates, the grasp of rioters. "Some force is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says businessman a trader character, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an city cafe. "Things we thought were firm and durable are deteriorating and giving way."
The Central Mystery and Her Quest
Precisely what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that animates this final volume, which picks up where its predecessor ended. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final venture into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating world he first revealed 30 years ago, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose terrain maps on to that of the real world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the people appear and think and act like us, but are joined by external spirits, beings in beast form; where the air are teeming with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but below, buses are ridden and tea is drunk, and older academics carry fancy shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first encountered as a child in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in the prequel, the prequel with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still clearly the spiky and determined heroine of the earlier books, but older, melancholic, more cautious, more doubtful. This circumscription is heightened by her split from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
His choice to leave in quest of that innocent part of her which she seems to have lost (an quality which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of the prior book, which followed the protagonist undertake a wandering trek across Europe and into the mountain region, meeting with marvel and danger on the way. But from the beginning, profound shifts were in action, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the faith's governing authority, and the author's brilliantly sinister incarnation of austere, administrative evil – is under new leadership, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – our protagonist's family member, who holds responsible her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the office of leader of the Magisterium's High Council, and is intent on using his newfound influence to expand the religion's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who carried baby Lyra to refuge along a overflowing Thames as an child in the first book, is now an academic with a sideline in spycraft: he is assigned to Geneva to learn more about Delamare's intentions. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the uncommon and precious botanical extract which seems somehow to be the origin of a societal and economic upheaval spreading out from that area. The oil is viewed by some as a marketable product, by others as a scientific or spiritual phenomenon, and by yet others – the zealous "highland figures" – as a origin of darkness; an affront that must be destroyed. The dilemma of where it comes from, what it stands for, and if it should be removed or preserved is becoming urgent.
As in the first series, our protagonist's decisions, and her future, are shown to be deeply linked with the future of the world
In the previous volume, these storylines ran largely in parallel. In The Rose Field, they converge. Similar to the first trilogy, Lyra's choices and her path are shown to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the world. Her individual quest to reunite with her companion and recover her imagination becomes the central struggle in a broader war with an oppressive system which, as these systems typically do, is seeking to stifle independence of reason, innovation and expression: all the personal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Ideological Conflicts
The book begins with the unveiling of a series of unusual openings in the makeup of the Earth's sky: gateways that look to give on to other worlds. One such window manifests to be the origin of the much debated botanical substance. The authority, with Delamare at its head, labels these portals as a challenge to the institution's orthodoxy and sets out to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to shift from strict rationalism and revert to intuition, nevertheless, her belief that these places must be defended – that their significance and what they provide is mysteriously crucial – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or whatever we label it," she says, "we require it." The scene for a poetic conflict between purity and maturity is set.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
