Tings are falling apart in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that seems, now more than ever, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or restructuring themselves along new and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from states, and accumulating in the chambers of theocrats, the coffers of conglomerates, the grasp of rioters. "Something is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says businessman a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and solid are faltering and giving way."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the question that animates The Rose Field, which resumes where its predecessor ended. This is, reportedly, Pullman's concluding foray into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting world he first introduced 30 years ago, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose terrain maps on to that of our world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the humans appear and think and behave like us, but are joined by external spirits, souls in animal form; where the heavens are filled with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but below, transports are ridden and drinks is sipped, and older professors carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first encountered as a child in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a infant in the first volume, the origin story with which Pullman began the series, is now a mature individual: still clearly the prickly and persistent main character of the earlier books, but older, more sorrowful, more careful, more doubtful. This circumscription is heightened by her division from her animal guide, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
His choice to depart in quest of that childlike part of the heroine which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her mission to reunite with him, were the driving forces of the prior book, which saw the protagonist undertake a wandering trek across Europe and into the Caucasus, encountering with amazement and danger on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the church's controlling power, and the author's brilliantly sinister embodiment of rigid, procedural evil – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – Lyra's relative, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the position of president of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is set on using his newfound power to broaden the religion's rule. A key character, who saved baby Lyra to safety along a overflowing river as an young boy in the first book, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in spycraft: he is assigned to a key location to find out more about his intentions. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and precious botanical extract which seems somehow to be the cause of a societal and economic disturbance spreading out from the region. The extract is viewed by some as a tradeable good, by different parties as a scientific or esoteric phenomenon, and by further factions – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a source of malevolence; an challenge that must be eradicated. The issue of its origins, its significance, and if it should be removed or preserved is becoming urgent.
Similar to His Dark Materials, the heroine's actions, and her destiny, are revealed to be deeply linked with the fate of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran broadly in tandem. In the conclusion, they merge. Like the first trilogy, Lyra's movements and her fate are revealed to be inextricably woven with the destiny of the world. Her private quest to reunite with her companion and regain her creativity becomes the primary battleground in a larger battle with an authoritarian regime which, as these systems always have, is striving to quell independence of reason, innovation and expression: all the internal, resistant ways in which people can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles
The novel opens with the finding of a set of strange openings in the fabric of the planet's sky: portals that appear to open into other worlds. A particular portal manifests to be the origin of the highly contested botanical substance. The authority, with the antagonist at its leadership, labels these openings as a challenge to the religion's beliefs and endeavors to destroy them. As our protagonist begins to turn away from rigid logic and return to feeling, however, her belief that these sites must be protected – that their significance and their value is mysteriously vital – increases. "The substance, or the extract, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we require it." The setting for a Blakean conflict between purity and experience is set.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
