Tings are unraveling in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the second of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that appears, now more than ever, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Establishments are failing, or restructuring themselves along new and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is draining from states, and accumulating in the chambers of theocrats, the treasuries of conglomerates, the hands of crowds. "An element is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says merchant a trader character, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his seat in an city cafe. "Things we thought were stable and durable are deteriorating and collapsing."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that animates the concluding book, which continues where the previous book concluded. This is, according to many, the author's last venture into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating world he first revealed 30 years ago, with the launch of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose geography aligns with that of our world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the people appear and reason and act like us, but are joined by animal souls, beings in beast form; where the skies are teeming with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but below, vehicles are ridden and tea is drunk, and mature academics carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the prequel, the prequel with which the author began the series, is now a young woman: still distinctly the spiky and tenacious main character of the prior volumes, but more mature, melancholic, more careful, more doubtful. This restraint is heightened by her split from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to leave in search of that innocent part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an quality which he represents as her "imagination"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled Lyra undertake a adventurous voyage across Europe and into the mountain region, meeting with wonder and peril on the way. But from the beginning, deeper currents were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the church's controlling power, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of strict, bureaucratic evil – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's uncle, who faults her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the position of head of the authority's High Council, and is determined on using his fresh authority to extend the religion's dominium. Another protagonist, who saved baby Lyra to security along a overflowing river as an child in the prequel, is now an academic with a secondary role in espionage: he is sent to Geneva to discover more about his aims. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and precious botanical extract which appears somehow to be the source of a societal and economic upheaval rippling out from Central Asia. The oil is seen by various factions as a tradeable product, by different parties as a scientific or esoteric wonder, and by further factions – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a source of malevolence; an insult that must be obliterated. The issue of its source, its significance, and if it should be destroyed or protected is becoming urgent.
As in the original trilogy, our protagonist's decisions, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be inextricably linked with the fate of the world
In the previous volume, these plots ran largely in tandem. In The Rose Field, they merge. Similar to the original series, Lyra's actions and her destiny are revealed to be inextricably woven with the destiny of the realm. Her private mission to reunite with her soul and recover her creativity becomes the primary struggle in a larger battle with an authoritarian system which, as these systems always have, is attempting to stifle autonomy of reason, originality and expression: all the internal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Moral Battles
The novel starts with the unveiling of a collection of strange cracks in the structure of the world's atmosphere: portals that look to lead to alternate realities. An example of a opening manifests to be the origin of the highly contested rose oil. The church, with the antagonist at its helm, classifies these openings as a threat to the religion's doctrine and sets out to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to move from strict logic and back to instinct, nevertheless, her conviction that these sites must be preserved – that what they stand for and what they provide is in some way crucial – grows. "Dust, or the substance, or the imagination, or the field of roses, or whatever we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a poetic conflict between innocence and experience is established.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
