Tings are unraveling in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a world that appears, now more than ever, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and troubling lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from governments, and gathering in the halls of religious leaders, the vaults of corporations, the hands of rioters. "Something is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his post in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and solid are faltering and failing."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Just what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that drives The Rose Field, which continues where its predecessor ended. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's last excursion into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling world he first unveiled in the distant past, with the publication of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose terrain corresponds to that of the real world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the people look and think and behave like us, but are paired by animal souls, essences in beast form; where the air are populated with witches and gryphons, but beneath those skies, vehicles are ridden and drinks is sipped, and middle-aged scholars carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the first volume, the origin story with which the author began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the sharp and determined protagonist of the prior volumes, but more mature, more sorrowful, more cautious, less certain. This circumscription is intensified by her split from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to go off in quest of that innocent part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an quality which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw the protagonist undertake a adventurous journey across Europe and into the Caucasus, facing with marvel and peril on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the religious controlling power, and the author's brilliantly sinister representation of strict, administrative wickedness – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. The antagonist – our protagonist's relative, who blames her for his sibling's death – has worked himself into the position of head of the authority's governing body, and is intent on using his recently acquired power to expand the institution's rule. A key character, who carried baby the heroine to safety along a swollen Thames as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a secondary role in spycraft: he is dispatched to a key location to learn more about his intentions. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the rare and precious rose oil which seems in some way to be the origin of a social and economic disturbance emanating out from that area. The extract is seen by some as a commercial product, by alternate groups as a research-based or mystical miracle, and by further factions – the zealous "highland figures" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an challenge that must be eradicated. The issue of its source, its significance, and whether it should be eliminated or protected is becoming urgent.
As in the original trilogy, our protagonist's deeds, and her fate, are revealed to be inseparably entwined with the destiny of the realm
In its predecessor, these narratives ran largely in side by side. In the conclusion, they come together. As in the first trilogy, the protagonist's actions and her fate are shown to be inextricably woven with the destiny of the universe. Her individual journey to reconnect with her daemon and regain her imagination becomes the primary conflict in a wider conflict with an authoritarian government which, as these systems always have, is striving to suppress independence of thinking, innovation and expression: all the personal, resistant ways in which individuals can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The story opens with the discovery of a set of strange fissures in the fabric of the Earth's sky: windows that seem to open into different dimensions. A particular window seems to be the source of the fiercely disputed mystical extract. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its head, labels these windows as a threat to the religion's doctrine and endeavors to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to shift from strict rationalism and return to instinct, nevertheless, her belief that these locations must be preserved – that what they stand for and what they provide is in some way essential – strengthens. "Dust, or rose oil, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or whatever we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a Blakean tussle between naivety and knowledge is established.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
