Tings are falling apart in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of the author's grand trilogies set in a world that manifests, now more than ever, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from governments, and gathering in the halls of theocrats, the vaults of business empires, the control of rioters. "Something is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were stable and solid are faltering and giving way."
Core Enigma and The Protagonist's Path
Exactly what that something might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that propels this final volume, which picks up where the previous book ended. This is, by all accounts, the author's concluding venture into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating universe he first unveiled in the distant past, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose terrain corresponds to that of our world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and think and act like us, but are joined by animal souls, souls in animal form; where the air are teeming with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, transports are taken and drinks is consumed, and middle-aged academics carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the origin story with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the spiky and persistent protagonist of the prior volumes, but older, sadder, more careful, less sure. This limitation is heightened by her split from her daemon, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
The daemon's resolve to depart in quest of that innocent part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an quality which he represents as her "vision"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which followed the protagonist undertake a picaresque journey across Europe and into the mountain region, meeting with amazement and peril on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the religious ruling body, and the author's deliciously chilling embodiment of strict, procedural evil – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's relative, who blames her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the office of leader of the Magisterium's governing body, and is set on using his fresh authority to expand the religion's control. Another protagonist, who saved young Lyra to safety along a flooded Thames as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an academic with a additional duty in espionage: he is assigned to Geneva to discover more about the antagonist's plans. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the rare and precious rose oil which seems in some way to be the source of a social and financial upheaval spreading out from Central Asia. The extract is viewed by some as a commercial product, by different parties as a research-based or mystical miracle, and by yet others – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a source of evil; an insult that must be obliterated. The dilemma of where it comes from, what it stands for, and if it should be removed or preserved is escalating in importance.
As in the first series, the heroine's actions, and her destiny, are revealed to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran broadly in side by side. In The Rose Field, they merge. Similar to the first trilogy, Lyra's choices and her path are shown to be inextricably linked with the future of the world. Her individual quest to reconnect with her daemon and regain her imagination becomes the key struggle in a broader conflict with an oppressive regime which, as these systems often attempt, is striving to suppress freedom of reason, innovation and expression: all the inner, rebellious ways in which people can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles
The novel opens with the finding of a series of curious openings in the makeup of the world's sky: windows that look to give on to different dimensions. One such portal appears to be the source of the much debated rose oil. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its helm, labels these windows as a problem to the religion's beliefs and sets out to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to shift from strict reason and back to intuition, however, her belief that these places must be defended – that their meaning and their value is somehow crucial – grows. "The substance, or the extract, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a Blakean struggle between innocence and maturity is set.
Story Tempo and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
