Tings are collapsing in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a universe that manifests, in this volume especially, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Establishments are failing, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Power is flowing away from governments, and accumulating in the offices of theocrats, the coffers of business empires, the hands of mobs. "An element is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his place in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and strong are deteriorating and failing."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that animates The Rose Field, which resumes where the previous book left off. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final venture into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting realm he first revealed in the distant past, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose terrain corresponds to that of our world, but whose past diverges and shifts with ours; where the humans appear and think and act like us, but are paired by daemons, beings in beast form; where the skies are filled with witches and mythical beasts, but underneath, transports are taken and drinks is sipped, and older professors carry luxury shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the sharp and persistent protagonist of the previous installments, but older, melancholic, more cautious, less sure. This restraint is amplified by her separation from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the cause which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
His choice to go off in search of that childlike part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an quality which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which saw Lyra undertake a adventurous voyage across the continent and into the mountain region, meeting with amazement and danger on the way. But from the beginning, profound shifts were in motion, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the church's controlling power, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of rigid, bureaucratic evil – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – Lyra's family member, who blames her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the position of president of the authority's governing body, and is intent on using his recently acquired power to broaden the church's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who carried baby the heroine to safety along a overflowing river as an child in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a sideline in espionage: he is dispatched to the city to learn more about his aims. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and costly botanical extract which seems mysteriously to be the cause of a societal and financial disturbance emanating out from the region. The extract is seen by some as a commercial good, by others as a empirical or spiritual wonder, and by further factions – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a source of evil; an challenge that must be destroyed. The dilemma of its origins, what it stands for, and if it should be destroyed or preserved is escalating in importance.
As in the original trilogy, Lyra's actions, and her future, are revealed to be deeply connected with the fate of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran mostly in parallel. In this final book, they converge. Like His Dark Materials, the protagonist's movements and her path are revealed to be inextricably linked with the future of the world. Her individual journey to reunite with her companion and recover her imagination becomes the key battleground in a broader war with an controlling regime which, as such authorities typically do, is attempting to quell autonomy of reason, originality and expression: all the inner, resistant ways in which people can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Moral Battles
The book begins with the unveiling of a collection of unusual cracks in the structure of the world's air: windows that appear to open into other worlds. A particular window seems to be the point of the much debated rose oil. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its helm, labels these openings as a problem to the church's beliefs and endeavors to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to move from inflexible rationalism and back to feeling, however, her belief that these places must be protected – that their significance and what they offer is in some way crucial – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a Blakean tussle between naivety and experience is set.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
