Tings are unraveling in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the next of the author's grand trilogies set in a world that seems, in this volume especially, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Establishments are failing, or reorganizing themselves along new and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from governments, and gathering in the chambers of religious leaders, the vaults of corporations, the hands of crowds. "Something is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and durable are deteriorating and giving way."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Exactly what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that animates the concluding book, which picks up where the previous book ended. This is, by all accounts, the author's final foray into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating realm he first introduced in the distant past, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose geography maps on to that of this world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and reason and act like us, but are joined by external spirits, beings in creature form; where the skies are teeming with witches and legendary creatures, but underneath, transports are ridden and beverages is drunk, and mature scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a baby in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which Pullman began the series, is now a adult: still distinctly the prickly and tenacious main character of the earlier books, but more mature, melancholic, warier, less sure. This limitation is heightened by her split from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to leave in search of that innocent part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an trait which he represents as her "vision"), and her journey to reunite with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which followed the protagonist undertake a wandering journey across Europe and into the Caucasus, facing with marvel and peril on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the religious governing authority, and the author's deliciously chilling incarnation of austere, bureaucratic wickedness – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. The antagonist – our protagonist's relative, who blames her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the position of leader of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his fresh authority to broaden the institution's dominium. Another protagonist, who carried young the heroine to safety along a overflowing river as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a sideline in intelligence work: he is sent to a key location to learn more about Delamare's plans. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and costly essential oil which appears somehow to be the cause of a social and financial upheaval emanating out from Central Asia. The substance is seen by various factions as a commercial product, by alternate groups as a empirical or esoteric phenomenon, and by yet others – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a source of darkness; an insult that must be obliterated. The issue of its origins, its meaning, and whether it should be destroyed or protected is escalating in importance.
As in the first series, the heroine's deeds, and her destiny, are shown to be deeply connected with the destiny of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran broadly in tandem. In The Rose Field, they merge. Similar to the original series, the protagonist's choices and her destiny are revealed to be deeply entwined with the fate of the realm. Her personal journey to reunite with her companion and regain her vision becomes the key battleground in a wider conflict with an authoritarian government which, as such regimes often attempt, is striving to quell autonomy of thinking, creativity and culture: all the internal, resistant ways in which individuals can be independent.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The book begins with the discovery of a collection of curious openings in the makeup of the world's air: windows that appear to give on to different dimensions. One such opening seems to be the source of the highly contested botanical substance. The church, with the antagonist at its head, labels these portals as a threat to the church's doctrine and endeavors to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to shift from strict reason and back to intuition, nevertheless, her conviction that these locations must be defended – that what they stand for and what they provide is mysteriously crucial – strengthens. "Dust, or the extract, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or whatever we call it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a philosophical tussle between naivety and maturity is set.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
