Tings are collapsing in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a universe that appears, here more than ever, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Establishments are failing, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from authorities, and pooling in the chambers of theocrats, the coffers of conglomerates, the control of mobs. "An element is at work, silently, very subtly", says businessman a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and durable are faltering and giving way."
The Central Mystery and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that drives the concluding book, which continues where the previous book ended. This is, reportedly, the author's concluding venture into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling realm he first introduced three decades past, with the publication of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose geography aligns with that of our world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the people look and think and act like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, souls in animal form; where the air are filled with sorceresses and gryphons, but beneath those skies, vehicles are taken and drinks is sipped, and mature professors carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in the first volume, the introductory book with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still distinctly the prickly and tenacious main character of the prior volumes, but aged, more sorrowful, warier, less certain. This restraint is intensified by her separation from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which made him desert her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
The daemon's resolve to leave in quest of that youthful part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an quality which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which saw Lyra undertake a wandering journey across the continent and into the mountain region, encountering with wonder and danger on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the religious controlling power, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister embodiment of strict, procedural wickedness – is under new leadership, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's uncle, who faults her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of leader of the Magisterium's High Council, and is set on using his recently acquired influence to expand the church's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who carried infant the heroine to refuge along a swollen Thames as an young boy in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a sideline in intelligence work: he is assigned to Geneva to find out more about the antagonist's plans. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and precious rose oil which appears in some way to be the origin of a social and financial crisis emanating out from the region. The substance is regarded by some as a commercial product, by others as a scientific or spiritual phenomenon, and by others still – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a wellspring of darkness; an challenge that must be destroyed. The issue of where it comes from, what it stands for, and if it should be removed or preserved is escalating in importance.
As in the first series, Lyra's deeds, and her future, are demonstrated to be inextricably connected with the future of the realm
In its predecessor, these plots ran mostly in parallel. In The Rose Field, they converge. As in the original series, Lyra's movements and her path are revealed to be inseparably entwined with the fate of the realm. Her personal mission to rejoin with her daemon and rediscover her imagination becomes the key conflict in a larger war with an oppressive system which, as such authorities often attempt, is attempting to quell autonomy of thought, creativity and art: all the internal, defiant ways in which humans can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The novel starts with the unveiling of a collection of curious cracks in the makeup of the world's sky: portals that appear to open into other worlds. A particular portal seems to be the origin of the much debated botanical substance. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its head, designates these openings as a challenge to the church's beliefs and sets out to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to shift from strict logic and return to intuition, yet, her belief that these sites must be protected – that what they stand for and what they provide is somehow essential – grows. "Dust, or the substance, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a philosophical tussle between innocence and maturity is established.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
