Tings are falling apart in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that seems, now more than ever, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or restructuring themselves along new and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Power is draining from governments, and accumulating in the offices of religious leaders, the coffers of corporations, the control of mobs. "Some force is at work, silently, very subtly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his post in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and durable are faltering and giving way."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Exactly what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that propels this final volume, which continues where its predecessor concluded. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's last excursion into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting universe he first introduced in the distant past, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose geography aligns with that of the real world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the individuals appear and think and act like us, but are joined by daemons, essences in creature form; where the air are filled with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, buses are ridden and beverages is consumed, and middle-aged academics carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in the first volume, the prequel with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a young woman: still recognisably the spiky and tenacious main character of the previous installments, but aged, sadder, more careful, less sure. This circumscription is amplified by her separation from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the cause which led him to leave her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
His choice to go off in pursuit of that innocent part of the heroine which she may have forgotten (an trait which he epitomises as her "vision"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed Lyra undertake a wandering trek across Europe and into the Caucasus, meeting with marvel and danger on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the faith's controlling power, and the author's brilliantly sinister incarnation of rigid, procedural evil – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's family member, who faults her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the office of leader of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his recently acquired influence to expand the religion's dominium. A key character, who rescued baby the heroine to refuge along a flooded river as an young boy in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is assigned to a key location to find out more about his plans. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and valuable botanical extract which appears somehow to be the origin of a societal and economic disturbance spreading out from that area. The extract is seen by some as a commercial good, by alternate groups as a research-based or esoteric miracle, and by yet others – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an insult that must be destroyed. The dilemma of its source, its significance, and whether it should be eliminated or protected is escalating in importance.
As in His Dark Materials, the heroine's actions, and her destiny, are shown to be deeply entwined with the future of the universe
In the previous volume, these plots ran mostly in parallel. In the conclusion, they converge. Like the original series, her movements and her fate are revealed to be inextricably woven with the fate of the universe. Her private journey to reunite with her companion and rediscover her imagination becomes the central struggle in a larger war with an controlling government which, as such authorities typically do, is attempting to quell autonomy of thinking, innovation and expression: all the personal, rebellious ways in which humans can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Ideological Conflicts
The novel starts with the finding of a collection of curious fissures in the fabric of the planet's sky: portals that appear to open into alternate realities. An example of a window manifests to be the source of the highly contested botanical substance. The authority, with the antagonist at its helm, labels these portals as a challenge to the church's doctrine and endeavors to eradicate them. As our protagonist begins to turn away from rigid rationalism and revert to feeling, nevertheless, her certainty that these sites must be preserved – that their meaning and what they offer is somehow crucial – strengthens. "Dust, or the substance, or the vision, or the field of roses, or whatever we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a poetic conflict between naivety and knowledge is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
