Things are collapsing in the last installment of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a realm that manifests, here more than ever, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Organizations are crumbling, or restructuring themselves along new and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is shifting from states, and gathering in the offices of religious leaders, the coffers of conglomerates, the control of rioters. "An element is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his post in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and durable are deteriorating and failing."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that animates The Rose Field, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, by all accounts, the author's concluding excursion into the elaborately built, deeply captivating world he first introduced in the distant past, with the launch of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose geography corresponds to that of our world, but whose chronicles diverges and shifts with ours; where the individuals appear and reason and act like us, but are paired by animal souls, essences in creature form; where the heavens are populated with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but below, vehicles are taken and beverages is sipped, and mature scholars carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first encountered as a child in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in the first volume, the origin story with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the sharp and determined main character of the previous installments, but aged, melancholic, more cautious, less sure. This limitation is heightened by her split from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which led him to leave 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 quality which he represents as her "creativity"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which chronicled Lyra undertake a picaresque journey across Europe and into the Caucasus, facing with marvel and danger on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the church's governing authority, and the author's brilliantly sinister incarnation of austere, bureaucratic wickedness – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – our protagonist's uncle, who faults her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the office of president of the church's governing body, and is set on using his recently acquired authority to broaden the institution's control. Malcolm Polstead, who saved young Lyra to refuge along a flooded Thames as an child in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a secondary role in intelligence work: he is sent to Geneva to learn more about Delamare's plans. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and precious essential oil which seems in some way to be the origin of a social and economic upheaval emanating out from the region. The substance is viewed by certain groups as a commercial commodity, by alternate groups as a research-based or mystical phenomenon, and by further factions – the extremist "mountain dwellers" – as a wellspring of evil; an insult that must be eradicated. The issue of its origins, what it stands for, and whether it should be removed or preserved is becoming urgent.
As in the first series, our protagonist's actions, and her destiny, are shown to be inseparably linked with the fate of the universe
In the previous volume, these plots ran mostly in parallel. In The Rose Field, they merge. Similar to the original series, the protagonist's movements and her path are unveiled to be inseparably linked with the destiny of the universe. Her personal mission to reunite with her daemon and recover her imagination becomes the central battleground in a wider battle with an authoritarian system which, as such authorities typically do, is striving to suppress independence of reason, innovation and art: all the personal, rebellious ways in which humans can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Ideological Conflicts
The book opens with the unveiling of a set of curious cracks in the makeup of the world's sky: gateways that look to give on to other worlds. One such portal seems to be the origin of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The authority, with Delamare at its leadership, labels these portals as a problem to the religion's orthodoxy and endeavors to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to move from inflexible logic and return to feeling, however, her belief that these sites must be preserved – that what they stand for and their value is somehow crucial – increases. "The substance, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we require it." The setting for a philosophical conflict between innocence and maturity is established.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
