Tings are falling apart in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the next of the author's masterful trilogies set in a realm that seems, here more than ever, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Power is draining from states, and pooling in the chambers of theocrats, the coffers of conglomerates, the control of rioters. "Something is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says merchant a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his post in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and solid are weakening and giving way."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that drives The Rose Field, which resumes where the previous book left off. This is, reportedly, Pullman's concluding excursion into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting universe he first revealed three decades past, with the launch of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose terrain corresponds to that of this world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the humans look and think and behave like us, but are joined by animal souls, beings in animal form; where the skies are filled with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, vehicles are ridden and drinks is drunk, and mature professors carry fancy shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first encountered as a child in the first trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the first volume, the prequel with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still clearly the sharp and determined heroine of the previous installments, but aged, sadder, more careful, less certain. This restraint is amplified by her separation from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, paradoxically, the cause which made him desert her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
The daemon's resolve to leave in quest of that innocent part of her which she seems to have lost (an trait which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a picaresque trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, facing with wonder and peril on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in play, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the faith's governing authority, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of strict, procedural evil – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – Lyra's uncle, who faults her for his family member's death – has positioned himself into the role of leader of the church's governing body, and is set on using his newfound authority to extend the religion's rule. A key character, who saved young Lyra to security along a overflowing river as an child in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a secondary role in intelligence work: he is assigned to a key location to find out more about the antagonist's intentions. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and costly essential oil which seems in some way to be the source of a societal and financial upheaval emanating out from the region. The substance is viewed by various factions as a marketable product, by alternate groups as a scientific or mystical miracle, and by yet others – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a origin of malevolence; an affront that must be destroyed. The question of its source, its significance, and if it should be removed or protected is becoming urgent.
As in the original trilogy, the heroine's actions, and her fate, are shown to be inextricably linked with the destiny of the realm
In its predecessor, these narratives ran broadly in tandem. In this final book, they converge. As in the first trilogy, the protagonist's actions and her fate are shown to be inseparably linked with the future of the universe. Her individual quest to rejoin with her companion and recover her imagination becomes the primary battleground in a larger battle with an oppressive regime which, as these systems always have, is striving to suppress independence of thinking, originality and expression: all the inner, rebellious ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The novel starts with the discovery of a series of unusual openings in the makeup of the planet's atmosphere: gateways that appear to open into different dimensions. A particular window appears to be the source of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its head, designates these portals as a problem to the church's beliefs and aims to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to shift from strict logic and return to instinct, nevertheless, her certainty that these sites must be defended – that their meaning and what they offer is in some way vital – grows. "Dust, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a philosophical conflict between naivety and knowledge is set.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
