Things are unraveling in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a universe that seems, now more than ever, as a intense and slanted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along new and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from authorities, and accumulating in the halls of religious leaders, the coffers of corporations, the grasp of rioters. "Some force is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says trader a trader character, keeping a vigilant eye on the Silk Roads from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were firm and durable are faltering and giving way."
Core Enigma and The Protagonist's Path
Exactly what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that propels The Rose Field, which continues where the previous book ended. This is, according to many, the author's final venture into the elaborately built, infinitely beguiling realm he first introduced in the distant past, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose geography aligns with that of our world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the individuals look and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, beings in creature form; where the heavens are filled with enchantresses and gryphons, but below, transports are ridden and drinks is consumed, and older academics carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in the prequel, the prequel with which the author began the series, is now a young woman: still distinctly the sharp and determined protagonist of the previous installments, but more mature, sadder, more careful, less certain. This limitation is amplified by her split from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
His choice to go off in quest of that childlike part of her which she may have forgotten (an trait which he epitomises as her "vision"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed Lyra undertake a picaresque trek across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with amazement and danger on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the faith's controlling power, and Pullman's masterfully eerie representation of austere, procedural malice – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's relative, who faults her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the office of head of the church's governing body, and is set on using his newfound influence to extend the church's rule. Another protagonist, who carried young the heroine to safety along a flooded river as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a sideline in espionage: he is assigned to Geneva to learn more about Delamare's plans. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and costly botanical extract which manifests somehow to be the cause of a social and financial upheaval spreading out from Central Asia. The extract is viewed by various factions as a marketable good, by different parties as a research-based or esoteric phenomenon, and by yet others – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a origin of evil; an affront that must be eradicated. The dilemma of its source, what it stands for, and if it should be destroyed or protected is escalating in importance.
As in His Dark Materials, our protagonist's actions, and her fate, are demonstrated to be inseparably connected with the fate of the universe
In the previous volume, these storylines ran mostly in parallel. In the conclusion, they come together. As in the original series, Lyra's actions and her destiny are unveiled to be inextricably entwined with the fate of the universe. Her private journey to rejoin with her soul and rediscover her creativity becomes the primary conflict in a wider war with an controlling government which, as such regimes typically do, is seeking to quell autonomy of reason, creativity and culture: all the inner, rebellious ways in which humans can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Ideological Conflicts
The novel starts with the finding of a collection of unusual cracks in the structure of the Earth's air: portals that look to lead to different dimensions. A particular window appears to be the point of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The authority, with its leader at its head, designates these windows as a threat to the religion's orthodoxy and aims to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to turn away from inflexible reason and revert to instinct, yet, her certainty that these locations must be defended – that their meaning and their value is mysteriously essential – strengthens. "The substance, or the substance, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a Blakean tussle between purity and experience is established.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
