Things are falling apart in the last installment of The Dust Trilogy, the second of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that appears, here more than ever, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Control is draining from states, and gathering in the halls of theocrats, the coffers of business empires, the control of rioters. "Some force is at work, stealthily, very subtly", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a watchful eye on the Silk Roads from his post in an city cafe. "Things we thought were secure and solid are deteriorating and failing."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Just what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that drives The Rose Field, which resumes where its predecessor left off. This is, reportedly, the author's concluding foray into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting world he first introduced 30 years ago, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose landscape corresponds to that of our world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals appear and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by daemons, souls in creature form; where the skies are teeming with sorceresses and gryphons, but beneath those skies, transports are taken and drinks is sipped, and older academics carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a infant in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which Pullman began the series, is now a mature individual: still distinctly the prickly and persistent heroine of the previous installments, but more mature, sadder, warier, more doubtful. This restraint is heightened by her separation from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to go off in quest of that innocent part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he epitomises as her "vision"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which chronicled Lyra undertake a picaresque voyage across the continent and into the Caucasus, facing with amazement and danger on the way. But from the beginning, profound shifts were in action, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the religious controlling power, and Pullman's deliciously chilling incarnation of strict, bureaucratic malice – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – our protagonist's family member, who holds responsible her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of leader of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is set on using his recently acquired power to extend the institution's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who saved young the heroine to security along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a secondary role in espionage: he is sent to Geneva to learn more about the antagonist's aims. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and precious botanical extract which appears mysteriously to be the cause of a societal and financial upheaval spreading out from that area. The extract is viewed by various factions as a commercial good, by others as a research-based or esoteric wonder, and by further factions – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a origin of malevolence; an insult that must be obliterated. The dilemma of its source, what it stands for, and if it should be eliminated or preserved is escalating in importance.
As in the original trilogy, the heroine's decisions, and her destiny, are revealed to be deeply linked with the destiny of the realm
In its predecessor, these narratives ran largely in parallel. In the conclusion, they come together. Similar to the original series, Lyra's actions and her fate are shown to be inseparably entwined with the destiny of the world. Her individual mission to reconnect with her companion and regain her creativity becomes the primary struggle in a broader war with an oppressive government which, as these systems typically do, is striving to quell autonomy of thinking, innovation and art: all the inner, rebellious ways in which people can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Moral Battles
The book starts with the unveiling of a collection of unusual cracks in the fabric of the planet's sky: gateways that appear to give on to different dimensions. A particular portal appears to be the point of the much debated rose oil. The authority, with its leader at its head, labels these windows as a challenge to the institution's doctrine and endeavors to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to turn away from strict rationalism and revert to intuition, yet, her belief that these places must be protected – that their significance and their value is mysteriously essential – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we require it." The scene for a poetic conflict between innocence and experience is set.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
