Things are falling apart in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the second of the author's grand trilogies set in a universe that manifests, here more than ever, as a intense and slanted version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from authorities, and gathering in the offices of theocrats, the treasuries of conglomerates, the hands of rioters. "An element is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says businessman a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and solid are weakening and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and Her Quest
Precisely what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that animates The Rose Field, which picks up where its predecessor ended. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's final foray into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling universe he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose terrain corresponds to that of the real world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the people appear and think and behave like us, but are joined by animal souls, souls in beast form; where the air are populated with witches and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, transports are taken and tea is drunk, and older professors carry luxury shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in the prequel, the prequel with which Pullman began the series, is now a adult: still clearly the sharp and persistent main character of the prior volumes, but more mature, sadder, more cautious, less certain. This circumscription is heightened by her separation from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
His choice to go off in pursuit of that childlike part of her which she appears to have shed (an trait which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which saw Lyra undertake a adventurous journey across Europe and into the mountain region, encountering with wonder and risk on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the church's governing authority, and the author's deliciously chilling embodiment of austere, administrative evil – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's family member, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the position of president of the Magisterium's governing body, and is determined on using his fresh authority to broaden the church's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued baby the heroine to security along a flooded river as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a additional duty in espionage: he is sent to the city to find out more about his aims. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and precious essential oil which appears somehow to be the origin of a social and financial disturbance rippling out from Central Asia. The substance is seen by some as a tradeable commodity, by alternate groups as a scientific or spiritual wonder, and by yet others – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an challenge that must be eradicated. The issue of its source, its meaning, and if it should be destroyed or preserved is escalating in importance.
As in the original trilogy, Lyra's decisions, and her destiny, are revealed to be inseparably linked with the destiny of the realm
In the previous volume, these storylines ran largely in tandem. In this final book, they come together. As in His Dark Materials, the protagonist's choices and her destiny are revealed to be inextricably linked with the fate of the realm. Her private journey to reunite with her daemon and regain her creativity becomes the central struggle in a broader conflict with an oppressive system which, as such authorities typically do, is striving to stifle autonomy of thinking, creativity and expression: all the internal, defiant ways in which people can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The novel starts with the finding of a set of curious openings in the fabric of the Earth's atmosphere: portals that appear to lead to other worlds. One such window appears to be the point of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The authority, with its leader at its leadership, designates these openings as a threat to the institution's orthodoxy and aims to destroy them. As the heroine begins to turn away from inflexible reason and revert to feeling, nevertheless, her certainty that these places must be protected – that their significance and their value is in some way vital – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or whatever we call it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a poetic tussle between naivety and experience is established.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
