Tings are falling apart in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the second of the author's grand trilogies set in a world that appears, now more than ever, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Organizations are crumbling, or restructuring themselves along novel and troubling lines. An invisible force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from authorities, and gathering in the offices of theocrats, the coffers of conglomerates, the control of rioters. "Something is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says businessman a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his place in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and strong are deteriorating and failing."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the question that animates this final volume, which resumes where its predecessor concluded. This is, according to many, Pullman's concluding excursion into the elaborately built, deeply captivating world he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose terrain maps on to that of the real world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the people look and reason and behave like us, but are paired by external spirits, souls in beast form; where the heavens are teeming with witches and mythical beasts, but below, buses are ridden and drinks is consumed, and older professors carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still recognisably the prickly and persistent main character of the earlier books, but more mature, more sorrowful, warier, more doubtful. This restraint is heightened by her division from her daemon, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
His choice to leave in search of that childlike part of her which she appears to have shed (an trait which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which saw the protagonist undertake a picaresque voyage across Europe and into the mountain region, encountering with marvel and danger on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the church's ruling body, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of rigid, procedural evil – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – the heroine's uncle, who blames her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the role of head of the Magisterium's High Council, and is set on using his newfound power to broaden the church's rule. Another protagonist, who saved young the heroine to safety along a swollen Thames as an child in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a additional duty in espionage: he is sent to a key location to find out more about his plans. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and costly botanical extract which manifests in some way to be the origin of a social and economic crisis emanating out from the region. The oil is seen by some as a marketable commodity, by others as a empirical or esoteric phenomenon, and by further factions – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a source of darkness; an challenge that must be eradicated. The issue of its origins, what it stands for, and whether it should be removed or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
Similar to His Dark Materials, our protagonist's decisions, and her fate, are demonstrated to be inseparably linked with the destiny of the universe
In its predecessor, these plots ran broadly in tandem. In The Rose Field, they merge. As in the original series, the protagonist's choices and her fate are shown to be inextricably linked with the future of the world. Her private mission to reunite with her companion and rediscover her creativity becomes the central battleground in a broader conflict with an controlling system which, as these systems typically do, is striving to quell autonomy of thinking, innovation and culture: all the inner, resistant ways in which people can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The book begins with the unveiling of a series of strange cracks in the fabric of the Earth's air: portals that seem to lead to alternate realities. One such opening appears to be the origin of the much debated mystical extract. The church, with the antagonist at its leadership, labels these windows as a challenge to the church's orthodoxy and sets out to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to shift from inflexible rationalism and back to instinct, nevertheless, her belief that these sites must be preserved – that what they stand for and their value is mysteriously vital – strengthens. "The substance, or the substance, or the vision, or the field of roses, or whatever we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a Blakean tussle between innocence and knowledge is set.
Story Tempo and Personal Evolution
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
