Things are collapsing in the last installment of The Dust Trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a realm that seems, here more than ever, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Institutions are failing, or reorganizing themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from authorities, and pooling in the halls of theocrats, the vaults of conglomerates, the control of rioters. "Some force is at work, very quietly, gradually", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and strong are faltering and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Exactly what that something might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that propels The Rose Field, which resumes where its predecessor ended. This is, reportedly, Pullman's last foray into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting universe he first introduced 30 years ago, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose geography maps on to that of the real world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the people look and reason and act like us, but are joined by animal souls, essences in animal form; where the skies are populated with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, transports are ridden and tea is drunk, and mature academics carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a infant in La Belle Sauvage, the introductory book with which the author began the series, is now a young woman: still distinctly the spiky and tenacious protagonist of the prior volumes, but more mature, more sorrowful, warier, less certain. This limitation is amplified by her split from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to go off in search of that innocent part of her which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled Lyra undertake a wandering trek across Europe and into the mountain region, meeting with amazement and risk on the way. But from the beginning, deeper currents were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the religious ruling body, and the author's brilliantly sinister representation of strict, administrative malice – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – Lyra's uncle, who faults her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of president of the Magisterium's High Council, and is determined on using his newfound power to broaden the religion's control. A key character, who saved young Lyra to refuge along a swollen river as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a additional duty in espionage: he is dispatched to the city to learn more about his aims. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and valuable rose oil which appears mysteriously to be the cause of a societal and economic disturbance emanating out from that area. The substance is regarded by various factions as a commercial commodity, by different parties as a scientific or spiritual wonder, and by others still – the extremist "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of evil; an challenge that must be destroyed. The issue of its origins, its significance, and if it should be eliminated or protected is becoming urgent.
Similar to the original trilogy, the heroine's deeds, and her destiny, are shown to be inextricably entwined with the fate of the world
In the previous volume, these storylines ran mostly in side by side. In The Rose Field, they converge. Similar to the first trilogy, her choices and her fate are revealed to be inseparably linked with the destiny of the universe. Her private mission to rejoin with her daemon and recover her creativity becomes the primary conflict in a broader war with an authoritarian regime which, as such regimes typically do, is attempting to stifle freedom of reason, innovation and expression: all the personal, defiant ways in which humans can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The novel starts with the unveiling of a series of unusual openings in the makeup of the planet's sky: gateways that appear to lead to alternate realities. A particular opening manifests to be the origin of the highly contested botanical substance. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its leadership, classifies these openings as a problem to the church's orthodoxy and endeavors to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to move from strict logic and return to instinct, yet, her certainty that these sites must be protected – that their meaning and their value is mysteriously crucial – increases. "The substance, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or whatever we call it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a Blakean tussle between purity and experience is set.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
