Things are unraveling in the last installment of The Dust Trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a universe that seems, now more than ever, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reassembling themselves along new and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is draining from authorities, and gathering in the offices of theocrats, the coffers of corporations, the hands of rioters. "Something is at work, stealthily, gradually", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a watchful eye on the Silk Roads from his place in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and durable are weakening and giving way."
The Central Mystery and The Protagonist's Path
Exactly what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that drives The Rose Field, which continues where the previous book left off. This is, by all accounts, the author's final foray into the elaborately built, endlessly enchanting realm he first introduced in the distant past, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose geography aligns with that of our world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals look and think and behave like us, but are paired by animal souls, essences in creature form; where the air are filled with witches and gryphons, but underneath, buses are caught and tea is consumed, and middle-aged academics carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the first volume, the prequel with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still distinctly the prickly and persistent main character of the previous installments, but aged, more sorrowful, more careful, less sure. This circumscription is heightened by her division from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to leave in quest of that childlike part of the heroine which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a adventurous trek across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with wonder and peril on the way. But from the beginning, deeper currents were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the church's governing authority, and Pullman's deliciously chilling representation of austere, procedural wickedness – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – Lyra's uncle, who faults her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the role of leader of the church's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his newfound authority to broaden the church's dominium. A key character, who saved infant the heroine to refuge along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an university scholar with a secondary role in intelligence work: he is sent to the city to learn more about Delamare's aims. And beneath all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and precious botanical extract which manifests somehow to be the source of a social and financial upheaval rippling out from the region. The oil is seen by some as a marketable product, by different parties as a empirical or mystical wonder, and by yet others – the zealous "highland figures" – as a source of evil; an challenge that must be eradicated. The issue of where it comes from, its significance, and if it should be eliminated or protected is coming rapidly to the fore.
Like the first series, our protagonist's deeds, and her fate, are revealed to be deeply linked with the fate of the universe
In its predecessor, these plots ran largely in tandem. In The Rose Field, they merge. Similar to the first trilogy, the protagonist's movements and her fate are revealed to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the universe. Her private journey to rejoin with her daemon and rediscover her vision becomes the central struggle in a broader battle with an controlling government which, as such authorities typically do, is seeking to quell autonomy of reason, creativity and expression: all the internal, defiant ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The book opens with the unveiling of a collection of unusual openings in the makeup of the world's air: windows that appear to give on to other worlds. An example of a opening manifests to be the source of the highly contested rose oil. The authority, with the antagonist at its helm, labels these windows as a threat to the church's orthodoxy and endeavors to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to shift from rigid logic and return to instinct, yet, her certainty that these places must be defended – that what they stand for and their value is in some way crucial – grows. "The substance, or rose oil, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or whatever we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a philosophical struggle between purity and knowledge is set.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
