Tings are collapsing in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of the author's masterful trilogies set in a realm that appears, here more than ever, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Institutions are failing, or reassembling themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Control is shifting from states, and accumulating in the chambers of theocrats, the vaults of business empires, the control of crowds. "Some force is at work, silently, gradually", says businessman a trader character, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were stable and solid are deteriorating and giving way."
The Central Mystery and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that something might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that drives the concluding book, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth concluded. This is, according to many, Pullman's concluding foray into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating world he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose terrain corresponds to that of this world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the individuals look and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, essences in beast form; where the air are filled with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, transports are ridden and beverages is consumed, and older academics carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a child in the first trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the first volume, the introductory book with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a young woman: still clearly the sharp and determined heroine of the previous installments, but older, more sorrowful, more careful, less sure. This limitation is heightened by her separation from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which made him desert her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
His choice to depart in quest of that youthful part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an quality which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw Lyra undertake a wandering trek across the continent and into the mountain region, encountering with amazement and risk on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in motion, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the faith's ruling body, and the author's masterfully eerie embodiment of rigid, procedural malice – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's uncle, who blames her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of president of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is set on using his newfound authority to broaden the religion's dominium. Another protagonist, who carried baby Lyra to safety along a flooded river as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a secondary role in intelligence work: he is assigned to Geneva to learn more about Delamare's plans. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and costly essential oil which manifests somehow to be the source of a social and financial crisis rippling out from the region. The extract is seen by certain groups as a commercial good, by alternate groups as a research-based or spiritual phenomenon, and by yet others – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a wellspring of evil; an challenge that must be obliterated. The issue of its source, its significance, and if it should be removed or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
As in His Dark Materials, the heroine's actions, and her destiny, are revealed to be deeply entwined with the future of the universe
In its predecessor, these narratives ran broadly in side by side. In this final book, they come together. As in the original series, Lyra's movements and her path are shown to be deeply linked with the fate of the realm. Her private quest to reunite with her companion and rediscover her imagination becomes the primary conflict in a broader battle with an authoritarian government which, as these systems typically do, is striving to stifle autonomy of reason, originality and art: all the internal, rebellious ways in which people can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The book begins with the discovery of a collection of strange fissures in the fabric of the planet's sky: windows that appear to lead to different dimensions. One such portal manifests to be the origin of the highly contested botanical substance. The authority, with Delamare at its helm, labels these openings as a threat to the church's orthodoxy and endeavors to destroy them. As Lyra begins to move from rigid logic and back to intuition, however, her belief that these sites must be defended – that their meaning and what they offer is mysteriously essential – increases. "The substance, or rose oil, or the vision, or the field of roses, or whatever we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a Blakean struggle between purity and knowledge is established.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
