Tings are falling apart in the concluding book of The Dust Trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a universe that seems, here more than ever, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Organizations are failing, or restructuring themselves along novel and troubling lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Control is draining from governments, and accumulating in the offices of theocrats, the vaults of conglomerates, the control of rioters. "An element is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and strong are weakening and giving way."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Just what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the question that propels The Rose Field, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, reportedly, Pullman's last venture into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting world he first revealed in the distant past, with the publication of Northern Lights. It's a world whose terrain maps on to that of this world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans appear and think and act like us, but are joined by animal souls, souls in creature form; where the skies are teeming with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, transports are ridden and tea is consumed, and mature professors carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first encountered as a child in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in the first volume, the origin story with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still distinctly the sharp and tenacious heroine of the previous installments, but aged, more sorrowful, more careful, less sure. This limitation is intensified by her separation from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which made him desert her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to leave in search of that childlike part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an trait which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which saw the protagonist undertake a picaresque voyage across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with marvel and risk on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the religious governing authority, and the author's deliciously chilling incarnation of rigid, procedural evil – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – Lyra's relative, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the office of head of the church's governing body, and is determined on using his fresh influence to expand the institution's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued young Lyra to security along a overflowing river as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a secondary role in intelligence work: he is assigned to Geneva to discover more about the antagonist's aims. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and valuable botanical extract which appears in some way to be the source of a social and economic disturbance rippling out from that area. The extract is regarded by certain groups as a tradeable product, by different parties as a scientific or esoteric miracle, and by yet others – the zealous "highland figures" – as a source of malevolence; an affront that must be obliterated. The question of its origins, its meaning, and if it should be eliminated or protected is escalating in importance.
As in His Dark Materials, our protagonist's actions, and her fate, are shown to be inseparably connected with the destiny of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran mostly in parallel. In this final book, they converge. As in His Dark Materials, the protagonist's movements and her path are shown to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the universe. Her private journey to reconnect with her companion and recover her creativity becomes the key struggle in a broader battle with an oppressive system which, as such regimes often attempt, is seeking to suppress independence of thinking, innovation and culture: all the internal, resistant ways in which people can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The novel begins with the discovery of a collection of strange openings in the structure of the world's atmosphere: portals that seem to give on to different dimensions. An example of a portal appears to be the origin of the much debated botanical substance. The church, with its leader at its leadership, designates these portals as a challenge to the institution's beliefs and sets out to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to shift from inflexible rationalism and revert to intuition, however, her certainty that these locations must be preserved – that their meaning and what they provide is mysteriously crucial – grows. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we require it." The scene for a philosophical conflict between naivety and experience is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
