Things are unraveling in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a world that appears, in this volume especially, as a charged and slanted version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or reassembling themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from authorities, and pooling in the offices of theocrats, the vaults of business empires, the grasp of crowds. "An element is at work, stealthily, gradually", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his seat in an city cafe. "Things we thought were stable and durable are deteriorating and failing."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that drives the concluding book, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth concluded. This is, according to many, Pullman's concluding foray into the elaborately built, endlessly enchanting universe he first revealed three decades past, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose geography aligns with that of the real world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and think and behave like us, but are joined by external spirits, essences in animal form; where the air are populated with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, buses are ridden and drinks is consumed, and middle-aged scholars carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then revisited as a infant in the prequel, the introductory book with which the author began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the sharp and persistent protagonist of the previous installments, but aged, more sorrowful, warier, more doubtful. This limitation is heightened by her separation from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
His choice to depart in search of that youthful part of her which she seems to have lost (an trait which he represents as her "imagination"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a picaresque trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, facing with wonder and risk on the way. But from the start, underlying forces were in action, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the faith's ruling body, and the author's masterfully eerie embodiment of strict, administrative wickedness – is under new leadership, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's uncle, who holds responsible her for his sibling's death – has worked himself into the role of president of the church's governing body, and is set on using his recently acquired authority to broaden the religion's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who saved infant the heroine to safety along a flooded river as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in espionage: he is dispatched to the city to discover more about the antagonist's intentions. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and costly essential oil which seems somehow to be the source of a social and financial disturbance rippling out from Central Asia. The substance is seen by some as a tradeable product, by others as a research-based or spiritual phenomenon, and by yet others – the zealous "highland figures" – as a source of darkness; an challenge that must be obliterated. The issue of where it comes from, what it stands for, and whether it should be eliminated or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.
Similar to the original trilogy, the heroine's decisions, and her fate, are revealed to be deeply connected with the fate of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran broadly in tandem. In The Rose Field, they come together. Similar to His Dark Materials, her actions and her destiny are unveiled to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the universe. Her individual mission to reconnect with her companion and rediscover her vision becomes the central conflict in a wider conflict with an controlling system which, as such regimes often attempt, is striving to stifle autonomy of thinking, innovation and expression: all the personal, resistant ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The book begins with the discovery of a series of curious cracks in the fabric of the planet's sky: portals that seem to give on to alternate realities. An example of a window appears to be the point of the much debated rose oil. The Magisterium, with its leader at its leadership, classifies these openings as a problem to the religion's doctrine and sets out to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to shift from strict logic and back to instinct, nevertheless, her conviction that these locations must be protected – that what they stand for and what they provide is in some way vital – grows. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a Blakean struggle between naivety and maturity is set.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
