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, here more than ever, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and troubling lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from states, and pooling in the chambers of theocrats, the coffers of business empires, the control of crowds. "Something is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the Silk Roads from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were firm and durable are weakening and giving way."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Just what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that animates The Rose Field, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, according to many, Pullman's final foray into the elaborately built, infinitely beguiling universe he first introduced in the distant past, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose geography corresponds to that of our world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the humans look and reason and act like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, beings in animal form; where the air are filled with witches and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, vehicles are taken and beverages is drunk, and mature scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a child in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in the first volume, the prequel with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still distinctly the prickly and persistent heroine of the previous installments, but more mature, sadder, more careful, less certain. This limitation is amplified by her separation from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to leave in quest of that childlike part of her which she appears to have shed (an trait which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which chronicled Lyra undertake a wandering voyage across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with wonder and risk on the way. But from the beginning, profound shifts were in motion, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the faith's ruling body, and Pullman's masterfully eerie incarnation of rigid, bureaucratic wickedness – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. The antagonist – Lyra's uncle, who blames her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the position of head of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his fresh influence to extend the institution's control. Another protagonist, who carried young the heroine to refuge along a flooded Thames as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in espionage: he is sent to the city to find out more about the antagonist's plans. And beneath all of this is the puzzle surrounding the uncommon and costly rose oil which manifests in some way to be the source of a societal and economic crisis spreading out from that area. The substance is seen by certain groups as a commercial product, by different parties as a scientific or mystical wonder, and by yet others – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a source of evil; an affront that must be eradicated. The question of where it comes from, its significance, and whether it should be eliminated or preserved is escalating in importance.
Similar to the first series, Lyra's actions, and her fate, are demonstrated to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the world
In the previous volume, these narratives ran broadly in tandem. In the conclusion, they merge. Like the original series, the protagonist's actions and her destiny are unveiled to be inextricably woven with the fate of the world. Her private mission to rejoin with her companion and rediscover her imagination becomes the key battleground in a broader conflict with an oppressive government which, as these systems always have, is attempting to stifle autonomy of thought, creativity and art: all the personal, resistant ways in which people can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The story begins with the discovery of a set of curious openings in the fabric of the Earth's air: gateways that look to give on to different dimensions. A particular portal appears to be the source of the fiercely disputed mystical extract. The authority, with the antagonist at its leadership, designates these windows as a problem to the church's orthodoxy and aims to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to move from rigid reason and back to instinct, yet, her belief that these sites must be defended – that their significance and their value is somehow essential – grows. "Dust, or rose oil, or the imagination, or the field of roses, or whatever we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a philosophical conflict between purity and knowledge is set.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
