Tings are unraveling in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of the author's grand trilogies set in a world that seems, now more than ever, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Establishments are failing, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and troubling lines. An invisible force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is draining from states, and gathering in the chambers of religious leaders, the treasuries of conglomerates, the hands of mobs. "Something is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his seat in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and strong are deteriorating and giving way."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that propels the concluding book, which picks up where its predecessor left off. This is, by all accounts, the author's final foray into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling universe he first unveiled in the distant past, with the publication of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose landscape corresponds to that of this world, but whose past diverges and shifts with ours; where the people appear and think and behave like us, but are joined by external spirits, beings in creature form; where the air are teeming with witches and legendary creatures, but underneath, vehicles are taken and drinks is consumed, and middle-aged scholars carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first encountered as a child in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in the prequel, the prequel with which the author began the series, is now a young woman: still recognisably the spiky and persistent protagonist of the prior volumes, but more mature, sadder, warier, more doubtful. This limitation is heightened by her separation from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which made him desert her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
The daemon's resolve to depart in pursuit of that innocent part of the heroine which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed Lyra undertake a adventurous journey across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with amazement and peril on the way. But from the beginning, deeper currents were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the religious ruling body, and the author's brilliantly sinister embodiment of strict, procedural evil – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's uncle, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the role of head of the church's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his recently acquired power to broaden the religion's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued young the heroine to safety along a swollen Thames as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is sent to a key location to learn more about his intentions. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and costly rose oil which appears somehow to be the origin of a societal and financial disturbance rippling out from Central Asia. The oil is regarded by certain groups as a commercial product, by alternate groups as a research-based or spiritual wonder, and by further factions – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of darkness; an affront that must be destroyed. The issue of where it comes from, its meaning, and if it should be removed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
As in the original trilogy, Lyra's deeds, and her future, are shown to be deeply connected with the fate of the world
In the previous volume, these narratives ran broadly in side by side. In The Rose Field, they come together. As in His Dark Materials, Lyra's actions and her path are unveiled to be deeply entwined with the future of the universe. Her private journey to rejoin with her daemon and recover her vision becomes the primary struggle in a larger battle with an authoritarian system which, as such authorities often attempt, is striving to stifle freedom of reason, creativity and art: all the personal, defiant ways in which individuals can be free.
Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles
The book starts with the discovery of a set of unusual openings in the structure of the planet's sky: windows that seem to give on to different dimensions. One such opening seems to be the point of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The church, with Delamare at its leadership, classifies these windows as a threat to the religion's orthodoxy and sets out to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to turn away from strict rationalism and return to feeling, nevertheless, her belief that these places must be defended – that what they stand for and their value is in some way essential – increases. "Dust, or the extract, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or whatever we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a Blakean struggle between innocence and knowledge is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
