Things are falling apart in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a world that appears, now more than ever, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Organizations are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along new and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Control is shifting from authorities, and accumulating in the halls of religious leaders, the treasuries of corporations, the control of mobs. "Something is at work, stealthily, gradually", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and strong are deteriorating and giving way."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that drives the concluding book, which picks up where its predecessor concluded. This is, reportedly, the author's concluding excursion into the elaborately built, infinitely beguiling universe he first revealed in the distant past, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose landscape maps on to that of our world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the individuals appear and think and act like us, but are paired by animal souls, beings in animal form; where the heavens are populated with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but below, vehicles are taken and drinks is consumed, and older academics carry luxury shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in the first volume, the introductory book with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the spiky and persistent heroine of the previous installments, but older, sadder, warier, less certain. This circumscription is intensified by her division from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to leave in pursuit of that youthful part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an quality which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed the protagonist undertake a wandering journey across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with wonder and danger on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the religious governing authority, and Pullman's deliciously chilling incarnation of austere, procedural wickedness – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. The antagonist – the heroine's relative, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the office of leader of the Magisterium's High Council, and is determined on using his fresh power to broaden the religion's dominium. Another protagonist, who carried baby the heroine to safety along a flooded Thames as an child in La Belle Sauvage, is now an university scholar with a secondary role in spycraft: he is sent to Geneva to learn more about his aims. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and costly botanical extract which seems somehow to be the origin of a social and economic crisis emanating out from Central Asia. The substance is regarded by certain groups as a tradeable commodity, by alternate groups as a research-based or mystical phenomenon, and by others still – the zealous "highland figures" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an insult that must be destroyed. The issue of its source, its meaning, and if it should be removed or protected is coming rapidly to the fore.
Like His Dark Materials, our protagonist's deeds, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be inextricably entwined with the fate of the realm
In its predecessor, these narratives ran largely in tandem. In The Rose Field, they merge. Similar to the first trilogy, Lyra's choices and her fate are shown to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the realm. Her private journey to reunite with her companion and regain her creativity becomes the primary struggle in a wider battle with an oppressive system which, as such regimes typically do, is attempting to stifle freedom of thinking, originality and expression: all the internal, rebellious ways in which humans can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The book opens with the unveiling of a series of unusual cracks in the makeup of the Earth's air: windows that seem to open into other worlds. One such window appears to be the origin of the highly contested botanical substance. The authority, with the antagonist at its helm, designates these windows as a problem to the religion's orthodoxy and endeavors to destroy them. As our protagonist begins to turn away from strict rationalism and revert to feeling, yet, her conviction that these locations must be defended – that what they stand for and what they provide is mysteriously essential – grows. "Dust, or rose oil, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a philosophical tussle between innocence and experience is established.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
