Tings are collapsing in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a universe that appears, now more than ever, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Institutions are failing, or reorganizing themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from states, and accumulating in the halls of theocrats, the coffers of business empires, the grasp of crowds. "Something is at work, stealthily, gradually", says businessman a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and strong are weakening and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Just what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that drives the concluding book, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's concluding venture into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting universe he first introduced in the distant past, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a world whose geography maps on to that of this world, but whose past diverges and shifts with ours; where the people look and think and behave like us, but are paired by daemons, beings in beast form; where the heavens are teeming with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, transports are ridden and drinks is sipped, and middle-aged professors carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in the prequel, the origin story with which Pullman began the series, is now a adult: still clearly the prickly and determined protagonist of the prior volumes, but more mature, sadder, warier, less certain. This limitation is amplified by her division from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
His choice to leave in pursuit of that innocent part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an trait which he symbolizes as her "creativity"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw Lyra undertake a wandering voyage across Europe and into the mountain region, encountering with amazement and danger on the way. But from the beginning, deeper currents were in motion, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the religious controlling power, and the author's brilliantly sinister representation of rigid, procedural evil – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. The antagonist – our protagonist's family member, who faults her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the office of president of the church's governing body, and is determined on using his newfound influence to broaden the institution's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued baby Lyra to safety along a flooded Thames as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an academic with a secondary role in spycraft: he is dispatched to Geneva to discover more about the antagonist's plans. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and valuable essential oil which manifests mysteriously to be the cause of a societal and economic disturbance rippling out from Central Asia. The extract is viewed by some as a commercial product, by different parties as a scientific or mystical wonder, and by yet others – the zealous "highland figures" – as a origin of evil; an insult that must be obliterated. The dilemma of its origins, its meaning, and if it should be eliminated or protected is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in the first series, Lyra's deeds, and her future, are revealed to be deeply connected with the fate of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran mostly in parallel. In The Rose Field, they converge. Similar to His Dark Materials, her movements and her destiny are shown to be deeply linked with the destiny of the realm. Her personal mission to reconnect with her soul and rediscover her imagination becomes the primary conflict in a wider war with an authoritarian system which, as these systems always have, is striving to suppress freedom of thinking, creativity and expression: all the internal, defiant ways in which individuals can be independent.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The story begins with the finding of a series of curious fissures in the makeup of the Earth's air: portals that seem to lead to different dimensions. An example of a portal appears to be the point of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The church, with Delamare at its helm, designates these portals as a challenge to the institution's doctrine and endeavors to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to shift from strict logic and revert to instinct, however, her certainty that these locations must be protected – that their significance and what they offer is in some way essential – strengthens. "Dust, or the substance, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or whatever we call it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a Blakean conflict between innocence and knowledge is set.
Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
