Things are unraveling in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the next of the author's grand trilogies set in a universe that appears, here more than ever, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Institutions are crumbling, or restructuring themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Power is flowing away from authorities, and pooling in the offices of religious leaders, the treasuries of corporations, the grasp of rioters. "An element is at work, stealthily, very subtly", says businessman a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the Silk Roads from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and durable are faltering and collapsing."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Exactly what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that propels the concluding book, which resumes where its predecessor concluded. This is, reportedly, the author's final foray into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting realm he first unveiled three decades past, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose geography maps on to that of this world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the individuals look and think and act like us, but are joined by daemons, beings in creature form; where the air are filled with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, transports are taken and tea is drunk, and mature academics carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in the first volume, the prequel with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still distinctly the sharp and determined protagonist of the previous installments, but older, melancholic, more careful, less sure. This limitation is intensified by her separation from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to go off in quest of that youthful part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he represents as her "creativity"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which saw Lyra undertake a wandering trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, facing with amazement and risk on the way. But from the beginning, deeper currents were in motion, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the faith's controlling power, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister embodiment of rigid, administrative malice – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's relative, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of president of the church's High Council, and is set on using his newfound power to broaden the institution's rule. A key character, who rescued young the heroine to safety along a flooded river as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an academic with a sideline in espionage: he is assigned to Geneva to learn more about the antagonist's aims. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and valuable botanical extract which manifests mysteriously to be the source of a societal and financial disturbance emanating out from that area. The extract is viewed by some as a tradeable product, by alternate groups as a empirical or esoteric phenomenon, and by yet others – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a source of darkness; an affront that must be obliterated. The issue of where it comes from, its meaning, and if it should be destroyed or preserved is escalating in importance.
As in the first series, the heroine's deeds, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the realm
In its predecessor, these plots ran broadly in parallel. In The Rose Field, they merge. As in the first trilogy, the protagonist's movements and her path are revealed to be inseparably linked with the destiny of the universe. Her personal quest to reconnect with her companion and rediscover her vision becomes the key battleground in a broader conflict with an oppressive regime which, as such authorities often attempt, is attempting to quell independence of reason, innovation and culture: all the internal, defiant ways in which people can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Moral Battles
The story starts with the discovery of a set of strange cracks in the fabric of the Earth's sky: windows that appear to open into different dimensions. One such window manifests to be the point of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The church, with Delamare at its helm, labels these openings as a threat to the institution's doctrine and sets out to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to shift from inflexible logic and back to instinct, nevertheless, her belief that these sites must be protected – that their significance and their value is in some way vital – increases. "The substance, or the substance, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or whatever we call it," she says, "we require it." The setting for a Blakean struggle between naivety and experience is prepared.
Story Tempo and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
