Tings are collapsing in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a universe that appears, here more than ever, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting 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 authorities, and gathering in the offices of theocrats, the vaults of corporations, the grasp of crowds. "An element is at work, stealthily, very subtly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his post in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and strong are faltering and collapsing."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Just what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the question that drives The Rose Field, which picks up where its predecessor ended. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's last foray into the elaborately built, deeply captivating realm he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose terrain corresponds to that of our world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the individuals appear and think and act like us, but are paired by external spirits, essences in animal form; where the heavens are teeming with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, transports are ridden and tea is sipped, and middle-aged academics carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a child in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in the first volume, the introductory book with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still distinctly the sharp and persistent heroine of the previous installments, but more mature, more sorrowful, warier, more doubtful. This restraint is amplified by her division from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to go off in pursuit of that youthful part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "creativity"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which followed Lyra undertake a adventurous journey across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with marvel and risk on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the faith's governing authority, and the author's masterfully eerie embodiment of rigid, administrative evil – is under new leadership, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – our protagonist's relative, who faults her for his sibling's death – has worked himself into the role of head of the authority's governing body, and is determined on using his newfound influence to extend the religion's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who carried young Lyra to security along a flooded river as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an Oxford don with a secondary role in intelligence work: he is assigned to Geneva to learn more about the antagonist's plans. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and valuable essential oil which manifests in some way to be the origin of a societal and economic crisis spreading out from the region. The extract is seen by certain groups as a commercial commodity, by different parties as a scientific or spiritual miracle, and by yet others – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of malevolence; an affront that must be obliterated. The dilemma of its origins, what it stands for, and if it should be eliminated or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
As in the first series, Lyra's deeds, and her fate, are demonstrated to be inextricably connected with the future of the universe
In the previous volume, these plots ran largely in side by side. In the conclusion, they come together. Like the first trilogy, the protagonist's choices and her path are shown to be deeply woven with the destiny of the universe. Her personal mission to reconnect with her daemon and rediscover her imagination becomes the key battleground in a larger war with an oppressive government which, as such regimes often attempt, is striving to suppress autonomy of reason, innovation and expression: all the inner, resistant ways in which people can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The novel starts with the unveiling of a set of unusual openings in the makeup of the Earth's sky: portals that seem to open into other worlds. A particular portal manifests to be the origin of the fiercely disputed mystical extract. The church, with its leader at its helm, labels these windows as a problem to the church's beliefs and sets out to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to move from rigid rationalism and return to intuition, however, her certainty that these places must be protected – that what they stand for and what they provide is somehow essential – grows. "Dust, or the substance, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or whatever we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a Blakean struggle between innocence and knowledge is set.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
