Things are falling apart in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a universe that manifests, now more than ever, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Organizations are crumbling, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from authorities, and pooling in the offices of religious leaders, the treasuries of corporations, the control of rioters. "Some force is at work, silently, very subtly", says merchant a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and durable are weakening and giving way."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that propels the concluding book, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, by all accounts, the author's final excursion into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling realm he first introduced three decades past, with the launch of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose geography maps on to that of the real world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and think and behave like us, but are joined by animal souls, essences in animal form; where the air are filled with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but below, vehicles are caught and beverages is consumed, and older academics carry fancy shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first met as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in the prequel, the origin story with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still distinctly the sharp and tenacious heroine of the earlier books, but aged, sadder, more cautious, less certain. This circumscription is amplified by her division from her daemon, Pan – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to go off in pursuit of that youthful part of her which she seems to have lost (an trait which he represents as her "vision"), and her mission to reunite with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which saw Lyra undertake a picaresque trek across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with marvel and risk on the way. But from the beginning, profound shifts were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the church's controlling power, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister embodiment of rigid, bureaucratic evil – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. The antagonist – the heroine's family member, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the office of head of the church's High Council, and is set on using his fresh power to extend the church's rule. A key character, who saved baby Lyra to safety along a swollen river as an child in La Belle Sauvage, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in intelligence work: he is sent to the city to discover more about Delamare's plans. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and precious botanical extract which appears mysteriously to be the source of a societal and economic crisis emanating out from the region. The oil is regarded by certain groups as a commercial good, by others as a research-based or esoteric phenomenon, and by others still – the extremist "highland figures" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an affront that must be destroyed. The question of its origins, what it stands for, and whether it should be eliminated or safeguarded is coming rapidly to the fore.
Like the original trilogy, the heroine's decisions, and her future, are demonstrated to be inseparably connected with the destiny of the universe
In its predecessor, these storylines ran largely in tandem. In The Rose Field, they merge. Similar to the first trilogy, the protagonist's actions and her path are unveiled to be deeply entwined with the future of the universe. Her personal mission to reunite with her companion and rediscover her vision becomes the central battleground in a broader battle with an authoritarian regime which, as these systems always have, is attempting to suppress independence of reason, innovation and art: all the internal, resistant ways in which humans can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The book opens with the unveiling of a series of curious fissures in the fabric of the Earth's atmosphere: portals that look to give on to other worlds. A particular window manifests to be the origin of the highly contested rose oil. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its leadership, labels these windows as a challenge to the church's beliefs and sets out to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to move from strict rationalism and back to instinct, nevertheless, her conviction that these sites must be protected – that their significance and what they offer is mysteriously crucial – increases. "The substance, or the substance, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or whatever we label it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a philosophical tussle between innocence and knowledge is established.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
