Tings are unraveling in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a world that appears, now more than ever, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Establishments are failing, or reorganizing themselves along novel and troubling lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is flowing away from governments, and gathering in the halls of religious leaders, the vaults of business empires, the control of mobs. "Some force is at work, silently, gradually", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his place in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and strong are deteriorating and giving way."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the question that animates The Rose Field, which resumes where its predecessor concluded. This is, according to many, the author's final venture into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling universe he first unveiled three decades past, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose geography maps on to that of the real world, but whose chronicles diverges and shifts with ours; where the people appear and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, essences in beast form; where the air are teeming with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, transports are ridden and drinks is drunk, and middle-aged academics carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the prequel, the prequel with which Pullman began the series, is now a young woman: still distinctly the spiky and persistent heroine of the prior volumes, but older, sadder, more cautious, less certain. This restraint is heightened by her separation from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
The daemon's resolve to leave in quest of that innocent part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an quality which he symbolizes as her "creativity"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which saw Lyra undertake a adventurous voyage across Europe and into the mountain region, meeting with amazement and peril on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the religious governing authority, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister embodiment of austere, procedural malice – is under new leadership, and asserting its power. The antagonist – Lyra's relative, who holds responsible her for his sibling's death – has worked himself into the position of president of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is set on using his fresh influence to expand the church's control. Another protagonist, who saved young the heroine to security along a swollen river as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is sent to a key location to find out more about the antagonist's aims. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and valuable botanical extract which appears in some way to be the cause of a societal and financial upheaval rippling out from Central Asia. The substance is seen by some as a marketable commodity, by different parties as a empirical or spiritual phenomenon, and by further factions – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of darkness; an challenge that must be obliterated. The question of where it comes from, its meaning, and whether it should be removed or safeguarded is coming rapidly to the fore.
Like the original trilogy, the heroine's deeds, and her future, are demonstrated to be inextricably connected with the fate of the world
In its predecessor, these plots ran largely in parallel. In the conclusion, they come together. Like the original series, the protagonist's choices and her destiny are shown to be deeply entwined with the future of the world. Her personal journey to reconnect with her companion and rediscover her imagination becomes the key conflict in a larger war with an oppressive system which, as these systems always have, is attempting to stifle freedom of reason, creativity and culture: all the inner, defiant ways in which people can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The story starts with the finding of a series of strange fissures in the structure of the world's atmosphere: gateways that look to open into other worlds. One such opening seems to be the origin of the much debated rose oil. The authority, with its leader at its head, labels these openings as a threat to the religion's orthodoxy and endeavors to destroy them. As Lyra begins to turn away from strict logic and return to feeling, nevertheless, her belief that these places must be protected – that their significance and what they offer is somehow crucial – grows. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we require it." The setting for a philosophical conflict between purity and maturity is established.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
