Things are falling apart in the last installment of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a universe that appears, here more than ever, as a intense and slanted version of our own. Organizations are failing, or reassembling themselves along new and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from authorities, and accumulating in the offices of religious leaders, the vaults of corporations, the grasp of crowds. "An element is at work, silently, very subtly", says businessman a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and strong are faltering and failing."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that propels the concluding book, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, according to many, Pullman's last excursion into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating universe he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the launch of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose terrain maps on to that of the real world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the individuals look and think and behave like us, but are joined by external spirits, beings in animal form; where the air are teeming with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, vehicles are taken and drinks is sipped, and mature scholars carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still clearly the sharp and tenacious protagonist of the earlier books, but older, sadder, more cautious, less certain. This limitation is amplified by her split from her animal guide, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the cause which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
The daemon's resolve to leave in pursuit of that innocent part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an quality which he represents as her "imagination"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed the protagonist undertake a picaresque journey across the continent and into the Caucasus, meeting with marvel and risk on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in action, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the church's governing authority, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister representation of austere, procedural wickedness – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – our protagonist's relative, who faults her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the office of president of the church's High Council, and is set on using his fresh authority to broaden the religion's rule. Another protagonist, who saved baby the heroine to security along a flooded river as an young boy in the first book, is now an academic with a secondary role in intelligence work: he is dispatched to Geneva to discover more about the antagonist's aims. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and valuable botanical extract which seems somehow to be the source of a social and economic crisis emanating out from Central Asia. The oil is regarded by some as a tradeable product, by alternate groups as a scientific or mystical wonder, and by others still – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a source of malevolence; an challenge that must be obliterated. The issue of its source, what it stands for, and whether it should be destroyed or protected is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in the first series, Lyra's deeds, and her future, are demonstrated to be inextricably linked with the fate of the world
In its predecessor, these narratives ran mostly in tandem. In The Rose Field, they merge. Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's choices and her path are shown to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the realm. Her private quest to reunite with her companion and regain her imagination becomes the primary battleground in a larger battle with an controlling regime which, as these systems typically do, is attempting to suppress autonomy of reason, originality and art: all the inner, resistant ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The novel starts with the discovery of a set of curious cracks in the makeup of the world's air: windows that appear to open into other worlds. One such opening seems to be the origin of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its head, labels these portals as a problem to the church's doctrine and endeavors to destroy them. As Lyra begins to move from strict rationalism and return to intuition, however, her conviction that these locations must be defended – that what they stand for and what they offer is in some way crucial – strengthens. "The substance, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a Blakean tussle between innocence and maturity is established.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
