Things are unraveling in the last installment of The Dust Trilogy, the second of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that manifests, here more than ever, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or reassembling themselves along novel and troubling lines. An invisible force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from authorities, and accumulating in the chambers of religious leaders, the vaults of corporations, the hands of crowds. "An element is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says merchant a trader character, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his place in an city cafe. "Things we thought were secure and strong are faltering and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and Her Quest
Precisely what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that propels this final volume, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's concluding venture into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating universe he first revealed three decades past, with the publication of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose terrain corresponds to that of the real world, but whose past diverges and shifts with ours; where the humans appear and reason and behave like us, but are joined by external spirits, beings in creature form; where the air are teeming with witches and legendary creatures, but underneath, transports are ridden and beverages is sipped, and mature academics carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then revisited as a baby in the first volume, the introductory book with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a adult: still clearly the spiky and tenacious main character of the previous installments, but older, more sorrowful, more careful, more doubtful. This circumscription is intensified by her separation from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the cause which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
The daemon's resolve to depart in pursuit of that childlike part of her which she appears to have shed (an trait which he symbolizes as her "creativity"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the driving forces of the prior book, which saw Lyra undertake a wandering trek across Europe and into the Caucasus, encountering with amazement and danger on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the faith's ruling body, and the author's deliciously chilling incarnation of strict, procedural wickedness – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – our protagonist's relative, who blames her for his sibling's death – has positioned himself into the role of leader of the church's governing body, and is intent on using his recently acquired influence to broaden the institution's dominium. Another protagonist, who saved infant Lyra to refuge along a swollen river as an child in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in spycraft: he is sent to a key location to find out more about his plans. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and valuable botanical extract which seems somehow to be the source of a social and economic disturbance spreading out from the region. The substance is seen by some as a marketable product, by alternate groups as a scientific or spiritual phenomenon, and by others still – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a origin of evil; an insult that must be destroyed. The dilemma of its origins, its meaning, and if it should be eliminated or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
Like the original trilogy, Lyra's actions, and her future, are shown to be inextricably connected with the fate of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran mostly in side by side. In The Rose Field, they merge. Similar to the original series, Lyra's choices and her path are revealed to be inextricably woven with the future of the universe. Her personal journey to rejoin with her companion and rediscover her vision becomes the key struggle in a larger battle with an oppressive regime which, as these systems always have, is attempting to suppress independence of reason, creativity and culture: all the inner, rebellious ways in which people can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The book starts with the finding of a collection of curious openings in the makeup of the Earth's sky: gateways that look to lead to other worlds. A particular opening manifests to be the source of the much debated rose oil. The church, with the antagonist at its helm, labels these portals as a challenge to the institution's beliefs and aims to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to move from strict rationalism and return to instinct, however, her conviction that these places must be protected – that their significance and what they offer is in some way crucial – increases. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a poetic tussle between naivety and experience is established.
Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
