Things are collapsing in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the next of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that appears, now more than ever, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Organizations are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from states, and gathering in the offices of religious leaders, the treasuries of corporations, the control of crowds. "Something is at work, very quietly, imperceptibly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the Silk Roads from his post in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and strong are faltering and failing."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Just what that something might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that animates The Rose Field, which resumes where the previous book ended. This is, reportedly, the author's last excursion into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling realm he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the launch of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose terrain corresponds to that of this world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the people look and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, essences in creature form; where the air are teeming with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but below, transports are ridden and drinks is drunk, and mature academics carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in the prequel, the prequel with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still recognisably the spiky and persistent main character of the previous installments, but aged, more sorrowful, more careful, more doubtful. This circumscription is amplified by her division from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to leave in quest of that childlike part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her journey to reunite with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which saw Lyra undertake a wandering journey across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with wonder and danger on the way. But from the beginning, profound shifts were in action, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the religious controlling power, and the author's brilliantly sinister representation of austere, bureaucratic malice – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – Lyra's family member, who faults her for his sibling's death – has positioned himself into the position of leader of the authority's High Council, and is set on using his newfound authority to expand the institution's dominium. Another protagonist, who rescued baby Lyra to safety along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an academic with a sideline in intelligence work: he is assigned to a key location to learn more about the antagonist's aims. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and precious essential oil which appears somehow to be the source of a social and economic crisis emanating out from that area. The oil is regarded by some as a marketable product, by others as a scientific or spiritual phenomenon, and by yet others – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a source of darkness; an insult that must be obliterated. The question of its source, its significance, and whether it should be destroyed or protected is coming rapidly to the fore.
Like the original trilogy, the heroine's decisions, and her fate, are shown to be inextricably connected with the future of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran mostly in tandem. In the conclusion, they merge. As in the first trilogy, Lyra's choices and her destiny are revealed to be inseparably woven with the future of the universe. Her individual mission to rejoin with her daemon and recover her creativity becomes the primary conflict in a larger war with an oppressive government which, as these systems typically do, is seeking to suppress autonomy of reason, creativity and expression: all the inner, rebellious ways in which humans can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The story opens with the finding of a collection of curious openings in the structure of the Earth's atmosphere: gateways that look to lead to other worlds. A particular portal manifests to be the point of the fiercely disputed mystical extract. The church, with Delamare at its head, designates these windows as a threat to the church's orthodoxy and sets out to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to shift from rigid reason and back to instinct, nevertheless, her belief that these places must be protected – that what they stand for and what they provide is somehow essential – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a Blakean tussle between innocence and knowledge is set.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
