Field of Roses: Pullman's Thrilling Conclusion to the Northern Lights Trilogy
Things are falling apart in the final volume of The Dust Trilogy, the second of the author's grand trilogies set in a universe that seems, here more than ever, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from governments, and pooling in the offices of religious leaders, the treasuries of conglomerates, the grasp of mobs. "Something is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his place in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and solid are faltering and collapsing."
Core Enigma and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that drives this final volume, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth concluded. This is, by all accounts, the author's concluding venture into the elaborately built, endlessly enchanting realm he first introduced 30 years ago, with the launch of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose landscape maps on to that of our world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the humans appear and reason and act like us, but are paired by daemons, essences in animal form; where the skies are filled with witches and legendary creatures, but below, vehicles are caught and drinks is drunk, and mature professors carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the first trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in the prequel, the introductory book with which the author began the series, is now a young woman: still recognisably the sharp and tenacious heroine of the prior volumes, but more mature, melancholic, more careful, more doubtful. This limitation is amplified by her separation from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which made him desert her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to depart in quest of that innocent part of her which she seems to have lost (an trait which he epitomises as her "vision"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which saw the protagonist undertake a adventurous journey across the continent and into the Caucasus, facing with marvel and peril on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in action, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the church's controlling power, and the author's brilliantly sinister embodiment of austere, procedural wickedness – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's relative, who faults her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the position of head of the Magisterium's governing body, and is set on using his fresh influence to broaden the religion's rule. Another protagonist, who rescued infant the heroine to refuge along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is assigned to the city to find out more about his aims. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and precious botanical extract which manifests somehow to be the origin of a social and financial disturbance emanating out from the region. The oil is regarded by certain groups as a commercial good, by alternate groups as a empirical or mystical miracle, and by others still – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a source of evil; an insult that must be destroyed. The issue of its origins, its significance, and whether it should be eliminated or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
Like the first series, the heroine's deeds, and her future, are revealed to be inseparably entwined with the destiny of the realm
In the previous volume, these narratives ran broadly in side by side. In The Rose Field, they merge. Like the first trilogy, her movements and her path are shown to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the realm. Her private mission to reconnect with her soul and regain her vision becomes the primary battleground in a larger conflict with an authoritarian government which, as such regimes often attempt, is attempting to suppress autonomy of thought, originality and culture: all the inner, defiant ways in which people can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Moral Battles
The novel opens with the finding of a series of unusual cracks in the structure of the Earth's air: portals that seem to give on to other worlds. An example of a opening seems to be the origin of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its helm, classifies these openings as a threat to the institution's doctrine and endeavors to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to shift from strict logic and return to feeling, yet, her belief that these places must be protected – that what they stand for and their value is in some way essential – strengthens. "Dust, or rose oil, or the vision, or the field of roses, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a poetic conflict between naivety and experience is established.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
