Tings are collapsing in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that manifests, here more than ever, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Institutions are failing, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from governments, and pooling in the chambers of theocrats, the treasuries of conglomerates, the control of crowds. "Something is at work, very quietly, imperceptibly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his post in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and strong are deteriorating and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that drives The Rose Field, which continues where its predecessor concluded. This is, according to many, Pullman's last venture into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating world he first unveiled three decades past, with the launch of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose landscape maps on to that of the real world, but whose past diverges and shifts with ours; where the people appear and think and behave like us, but are paired by animal souls, essences in animal form; where the skies are filled with sorceresses and gryphons, but beneath those skies, vehicles are ridden and beverages is consumed, and middle-aged academics carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a child in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in the prequel, the introductory book with which the author began this trilogy, is now a adult: still recognisably the spiky and tenacious protagonist of the earlier books, but more mature, melancholic, more cautious, more doubtful. This restraint is heightened by her division from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to go off in search of that innocent part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed the protagonist undertake a picaresque journey across Europe and into the Caucasus, facing with amazement and danger on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the religious governing authority, and the author's brilliantly sinister representation of rigid, administrative wickedness – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's uncle, who faults her for his family member's death – has positioned himself into the position of head of the Magisterium's High Council, and is set on using his newfound influence to extend the institution's dominium. A key character, who saved infant the heroine to safety along a overflowing Thames as an child in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in espionage: he is sent to Geneva to find out more about the antagonist's aims. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and precious botanical extract which manifests mysteriously to be the cause of a societal and financial upheaval spreading out from Central Asia. The oil is viewed by various factions as a commercial good, by others as a research-based or spiritual wonder, and by further factions – the extremist "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of evil; an challenge that must be destroyed. The issue of where it comes from, what it stands for, and whether it should be removed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
Similar to the original trilogy, the heroine's actions, and her future, are shown to be deeply linked with the destiny of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran largely in parallel. In this final book, they converge. As in His Dark Materials, the protagonist's actions and her destiny are shown to be inseparably woven with the future of the world. Her individual quest to reunite with her daemon and regain her creativity becomes the key conflict in a broader battle with an controlling government which, as such authorities typically do, is attempting to suppress autonomy of thought, innovation and art: all the inner, resistant ways in which people can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Moral Battles
The story opens with the discovery of a set of strange fissures in the fabric of the Earth's atmosphere: windows that seem to lead to other worlds. A particular portal manifests to be the point of the much debated botanical substance. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its helm, classifies these portals as a threat to the church's orthodoxy and aims to eradicate them. As our protagonist begins to move from inflexible reason and revert to intuition, nevertheless, her certainty that these locations must be preserved – that their meaning and what they offer is somehow crucial – increases. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or whatever we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a poetic struggle between innocence and maturity is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
