Tings are unraveling in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a world that manifests, in this volume especially, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Control is shifting from authorities, and gathering in the halls of theocrats, the coffers of conglomerates, the control of crowds. "An element is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and durable are faltering and collapsing."
Core Enigma and The Protagonist's Path
Just what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that drives The Rose Field, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, according to many, the author's final excursion into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating realm he first introduced three decades past, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a world whose geography aligns with that of our world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the individuals appear and think and act like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, essences in creature form; where the skies are populated with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, vehicles are ridden and drinks is consumed, and older professors carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a child in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a baby in the first volume, the introductory book with which Pullman began the series, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the prickly and determined main character of the previous installments, but aged, more sorrowful, more cautious, less certain. This restraint is heightened by her split from her daemon, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which made him desert her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to leave in search of that youthful part of her which she may have forgotten (an quality which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a adventurous journey across the continent and into the Caucasus, meeting with amazement and peril on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the faith's ruling body, and Pullman's masterfully eerie embodiment of strict, bureaucratic malice – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. The antagonist – the heroine's family member, who blames her for his sibling's death – has positioned himself into the office of president of the authority's High Council, and is determined on using his recently acquired authority to extend the institution's rule. Another protagonist, who rescued infant the heroine to security along a swollen Thames as an child in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in spycraft: he is dispatched to Geneva to find out more about Delamare's plans. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and precious rose oil which manifests mysteriously to be the cause of a social and economic crisis spreading out from the region. The oil is viewed by certain groups as a commercial good, by alternate groups as a scientific or esoteric phenomenon, and by others still – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a source of evil; an challenge that must be destroyed. The dilemma of its source, what it stands for, and whether it should be eliminated or protected is escalating in importance.
Similar to the original trilogy, our protagonist's decisions, and her fate, are revealed to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the universe
In the previous volume, these storylines ran broadly in parallel. In this final book, they merge. Similar to the first trilogy, the protagonist's choices and her fate are unveiled to be inextricably linked with the destiny of the world. Her private quest to rejoin with her daemon and rediscover her vision becomes the central struggle in a wider war with an oppressive government which, as these systems typically do, is seeking to stifle freedom of thinking, innovation and culture: all the inner, resistant ways in which humans can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The book starts with the finding of a series of strange fissures in the makeup of the world's atmosphere: gateways that look to give on to other worlds. One such portal seems to be the point of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The authority, with the antagonist at its helm, classifies these portals as a challenge to the church's beliefs and aims to destroy them. As Lyra begins to turn away from inflexible rationalism and revert to intuition, yet, her conviction that these sites must be preserved – that their significance and what they provide is mysteriously essential – increases. "The substance, or the extract, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or whatever we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a Blakean struggle between purity and experience is established.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
