Things are falling apart in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the second of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a world that appears, in this volume especially, as a intense and slanted version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along new and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is draining from authorities, and gathering in the offices of religious leaders, the coffers of business empires, the grasp of rioters. "Something is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says trader a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were firm and strong are weakening and giving way."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Just what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that animates the concluding book, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth concluded. This is, according to many, the author's concluding excursion into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting universe he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose landscape aligns with that of our world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the people look and reason and behave like us, but are paired by daemons, souls in animal form; where the heavens are filled with witches and gryphons, but below, transports are ridden and tea is consumed, and middle-aged professors carry luxury shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the first volume, the introductory book with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still recognisably the prickly and tenacious heroine of the prior volumes, but older, more sorrowful, more cautious, less sure. This limitation is heightened by her split from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the cause which made him desert her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to leave in pursuit of that childlike part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an trait which he represents as her "imagination"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which saw the protagonist undertake a adventurous voyage across the continent and into the mountain region, encountering with marvel and risk on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in action, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the church's ruling body, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister incarnation of rigid, bureaucratic malice – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's relative, who faults her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of head of the church's High Council, and is set on using his newfound power to expand the religion's dominium. A key character, who carried baby Lyra to safety along a swollen Thames as an young boy in the first book, is now an university scholar with a secondary role in intelligence work: he is assigned to Geneva to find out more about Delamare's aims. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and costly essential oil which manifests in some way to be the origin of a societal and financial disturbance spreading out from the region. The oil is seen by various factions as a commercial commodity, by alternate groups as a empirical or spiritual wonder, and by yet others – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of malevolence; an affront that must be destroyed. The issue of where it comes from, its meaning, and whether it should be eliminated or safeguarded is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in the first series, our protagonist's actions, and her future, are shown to be inextricably linked with the future of the realm
In its predecessor, these narratives ran largely in tandem. In the conclusion, they come together. Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's movements and her destiny are shown to be inseparably entwined with the destiny of the realm. Her individual quest to reconnect with her soul and regain her imagination becomes the primary battleground in a larger battle with an oppressive system which, as such authorities always have, is seeking to suppress freedom of reason, originality and culture: all the internal, defiant ways in which people can be free.
Dimensional Rifts and Moral Battles
The story starts with the discovery of a set of unusual cracks in the fabric of the planet's air: gateways that appear to lead to different dimensions. A particular opening seems to be the origin of the much debated botanical substance. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its helm, labels these openings as a challenge to the church's beliefs and sets out to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to move from strict reason and revert to feeling, yet, her conviction that these locations must be preserved – that what they stand for and what they provide is somehow essential – grows. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the imagination, or the field of roses, or whatever we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a Blakean conflict between innocence and experience is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
