Tings are falling apart in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the second of the author's grand trilogies set in a world that seems, here more than ever, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Institutions are failing, or restructuring themselves along novel and troubling lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from authorities, and pooling in the chambers of religious leaders, the vaults of corporations, the hands of mobs. "An element is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his place in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and durable are deteriorating and giving way."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that propels The Rose Field, which continues where its predecessor ended. This is, by all accounts, the author's final excursion into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting world he first revealed 30 years ago, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose landscape aligns with that of our world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the people appear and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by daemons, essences in creature form; where the air are teeming with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but below, vehicles are ridden and drinks is consumed, and middle-aged scholars carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still clearly the spiky and persistent heroine of the previous installments, but aged, sadder, warier, less certain. This limitation is amplified by her separation from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to go off in pursuit 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 incitements of its predecessor, which saw the protagonist undertake a picaresque journey across the continent and into the Caucasus, facing with wonder and peril on the way. But from the beginning, deeper currents were in play, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the church's governing authority, and the author's brilliantly sinister embodiment of strict, bureaucratic evil – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's family member, who blames her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the position of head of the authority's ruling assembly, and is set on using his recently acquired influence to expand the church's dominium. A key character, who saved baby Lyra to security along a flooded Thames as an child in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is assigned to a key location to learn more about the antagonist's plans. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and costly rose oil which manifests mysteriously to be the origin of a social and financial upheaval rippling out from that area. The oil is viewed by certain groups as a marketable commodity, by alternate groups as a research-based or spiritual phenomenon, and by yet others – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a origin of malevolence; an insult that must be obliterated. The dilemma of its source, its significance, and whether it should be removed or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.
Similar to the original trilogy, the heroine's actions, and her future, are demonstrated to be deeply linked with the fate of the realm
In the previous volume, these narratives ran mostly in parallel. In the conclusion, they merge. Similar to the original series, Lyra's actions and her path are shown to be inseparably linked with the future of the universe. Her private quest to reconnect with her daemon and recover her imagination becomes the primary struggle in a wider conflict with an controlling regime which, as these systems often attempt, is attempting to stifle independence of thought, innovation and expression: all the inner, defiant ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The book starts with the discovery of a series of unusual fissures in the makeup of the planet's sky: gateways that look to give on to different dimensions. A particular window manifests to be the point of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The church, with Delamare at its head, labels these windows as a challenge to the institution's doctrine and aims to destroy them. As the heroine begins to shift from strict rationalism and return to intuition, however, her belief that these places must be defended – that what they stand for and their value is mysteriously crucial – grows. "Dust, or the extract, or the vision, or the field of roses, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a Blakean tussle between innocence and maturity is set.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
