Tings are collapsing in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a realm that seems, in this volume especially, as a intense and slanted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and troubling lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is flowing away from governments, and gathering in the offices of theocrats, the coffers of corporations, the grasp of rioters. "Some force is at work, silently, very subtly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and strong are weakening and failing."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that drives the concluding book, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, reportedly, Pullman's last foray into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating world he first unveiled in the distant past, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose landscape aligns with that of this world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals appear and think and act like us, but are paired by animal souls, souls in creature form; where the heavens are filled with enchantresses and gryphons, but beneath those skies, vehicles are taken and beverages is sipped, and middle-aged academics carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first encountered as a child in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in the first volume, the origin story with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a young woman: still recognisably the spiky and tenacious protagonist of the previous installments, but more mature, more sorrowful, warier, less certain. This circumscription is amplified by her division from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
The daemon's resolve to go off in pursuit of that childlike part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an quality which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which saw Lyra undertake a adventurous voyage across the continent and into the Caucasus, meeting with marvel and risk on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the church's controlling power, and the author's deliciously chilling representation of rigid, bureaucratic wickedness – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – Lyra's family member, who faults her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the role of leader of the church's governing body, and is set on using his newfound authority to expand the church's rule. Another protagonist, who carried baby Lyra to security along a flooded Thames as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a secondary role in spycraft: he is sent to the city to learn more about the antagonist's aims. And beneath all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and valuable botanical extract which manifests mysteriously to be the origin of a societal and financial disturbance emanating out from the region. The oil is regarded by various factions as a tradeable good, by different parties as a scientific or mystical wonder, and by yet others – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a wellspring of darkness; an insult that must be eradicated. The issue of its source, its meaning, and if it should be destroyed or preserved is becoming urgent.
Like His Dark Materials, Lyra's decisions, and her fate, are demonstrated to be deeply entwined with the future of the realm
In its predecessor, these plots ran broadly in tandem. In this final book, they come together. Like the original series, Lyra's movements and her path are revealed to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the universe. Her individual quest to reconnect with her companion and rediscover her vision becomes the key struggle in a broader conflict with an authoritarian system which, as these systems often attempt, is striving to stifle freedom of thought, innovation and art: all the internal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The story begins with the unveiling of a series of curious fissures in the structure of the Earth's sky: gateways that seem to open into other worlds. An example of a window manifests to be the origin of the fiercely disputed mystical extract. The Magisterium, with its leader at its leadership, classifies these openings as a challenge to the institution's beliefs and sets out to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to shift from inflexible reason and return to feeling, yet, her conviction that these locations must be protected – that their significance and what they provide is mysteriously crucial – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a poetic conflict between naivety and experience is set.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
