Things are collapsing in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a universe that manifests, now more than ever, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Institutions are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along new and troubling lines. An unseen force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is flowing away from states, and accumulating in the halls of religious leaders, the treasuries of corporations, the hands of rioters. "Something is at work, stealthily, gradually", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a vigilant eye on the Silk Roads from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and durable are faltering and failing."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Just what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that drives The Rose Field, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, reportedly, the author's final foray into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting realm he first introduced 30 years ago, with the publication of Northern Lights. It's a world whose landscape maps on to that of the real world, but whose chronicles diverges and shifts with ours; where the individuals look and reason and behave like us, but are paired by animal souls, essences in beast form; where the air are populated with witches and gryphons, but underneath, transports are caught and tea is drunk, and older scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a child in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a baby in La Belle Sauvage, the origin story with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still recognisably the spiky and tenacious protagonist of the earlier books, but more mature, melancholic, more cautious, more doubtful. This limitation is heightened by her division from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
The daemon's resolve to depart in search of that childlike part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an trait which he epitomises as her "vision"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which saw Lyra undertake a wandering voyage across the continent and into the mountain region, meeting with marvel and danger on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the faith's governing authority, and the author's deliciously chilling representation of strict, bureaucratic wickedness – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's family member, who faults her for his sibling's death – has worked himself into the role of head of the church's governing body, and is set on using his newfound authority to broaden the church's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who carried young Lyra to refuge along a swollen river as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a sideline in intelligence work: he is assigned to a key location to discover more about his intentions. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the rare and costly rose oil which manifests mysteriously to be the cause of a societal and financial upheaval emanating out from the region. The extract is seen by some as a tradeable product, by different parties as a research-based or esoteric phenomenon, and by others still – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of evil; an insult that must be eradicated. The question of its origins, its meaning, and whether it should be destroyed or protected is escalating in importance.
Like His Dark Materials, our protagonist's actions, and her destiny, are revealed to be deeply linked with the future of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran broadly in side by side. In this final book, they merge. Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's movements and her destiny are unveiled to be deeply entwined with the future of the universe. Her personal quest to reunite with her soul and rediscover her vision becomes the key battleground in a wider battle with an oppressive government which, as such regimes typically do, is attempting to quell freedom of thinking, originality and art: all the personal, defiant ways in which people can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The book begins with the unveiling of a set of strange cracks in the fabric of the planet's sky: gateways that look to give on to other worlds. One such opening manifests to be the source of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its head, designates these windows as a challenge to the church's orthodoxy and sets out to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to move from inflexible logic and return to feeling, however, her certainty that these sites must be defended – that their significance and what they provide is mysteriously crucial – increases. "Dust, or the extract, or the vision, or the field of roses, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a Blakean tussle between naivety and knowledge is set.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
