Tings are collapsing in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a world that appears, now more than ever, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Organizations are failing, or restructuring themselves along new and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from authorities, and gathering in the chambers of theocrats, the treasuries of corporations, the control of mobs. "Some force is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the Silk Roads from his place in an city cafe. "Things we thought were secure and strong are weakening and giving way."
The Central Mystery and Her Quest
Exactly what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that drives The Rose Field, which resumes where the previous book ended. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's final excursion into the elaborately built, deeply captivating universe he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the launch of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose landscape maps on to that of this world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the individuals appear and think and behave like us, but are joined by animal souls, souls in animal form; where the air are populated with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, transports are ridden and beverages is sipped, and middle-aged scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a child in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still recognisably the prickly and determined heroine of the earlier books, but more mature, sadder, more careful, less certain. This restraint is intensified by her separation from her animal guide, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
The daemon's resolve to leave in quest of that childlike part of her which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he represents as her "imagination"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a picaresque voyage across Europe and into the mountain region, meeting with marvel and peril on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the religious ruling body, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister representation of austere, administrative evil – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's uncle, who faults her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of leader of the authority's High Council, and is determined on using his newfound influence to broaden the institution's control. Malcolm Polstead, who saved baby the heroine to safety along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a secondary role in espionage: he is sent to a key location to find out more about the antagonist's intentions. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and costly essential oil which seems somehow to be the cause of a social and financial upheaval emanating out from the region. The substance is viewed by some as a commercial good, by different parties as a empirical or mystical wonder, and by further factions – the zealous "highland figures" – as a origin of malevolence; an affront that must be eradicated. The question of its source, its significance, and if it should be eliminated or protected is becoming urgent.
As in the first series, the heroine's actions, and her fate, are demonstrated to be inextricably linked with the fate of the realm
In its predecessor, these narratives ran mostly in parallel. In The Rose Field, they converge. Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's choices and her path are shown to be deeply entwined with the future of the realm. Her individual mission to reunite with her soul and rediscover her imagination becomes the primary battleground in a wider war with an oppressive government which, as such authorities typically do, is striving to suppress independence of reason, innovation and culture: all the inner, resistant ways in which individuals can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The story opens with the finding of a collection of strange cracks in the fabric of the world's air: gateways that appear to lead to alternate realities. A particular window seems to be the origin of the highly contested rose oil. The church, with Delamare at its head, classifies these openings as a challenge to the religion's orthodoxy and endeavors to eradicate them. As our protagonist begins to shift from strict rationalism and back to feeling, nevertheless, her certainty that these places must be protected – that their meaning and what they provide is in some way essential – grows. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or whatever we call it," she says, "we require it." The setting for a Blakean tussle between purity and experience is prepared.
Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
