Tings are unraveling in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a universe that manifests, now more than ever, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Institutions are failing, or restructuring themselves along new and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from governments, and gathering in the chambers of religious leaders, the coffers of conglomerates, the control of crowds. "Something is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and solid are deteriorating and failing."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Just what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that propels The Rose Field, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's final foray into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling realm he first introduced in the distant past, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose geography aligns with that of the real world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the humans look and reason and behave like us, but are paired by daemons, beings in creature form; where the skies are teeming with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but underneath, vehicles are taken and beverages is sipped, and middle-aged scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the first volume, the prequel with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still recognisably the prickly and determined main character of the prior volumes, but aged, more sorrowful, more cautious, less certain. This circumscription is heightened by her division from her daemon, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
The daemon's resolve to go off in search of that childlike part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an quality which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which chronicled Lyra undertake a adventurous trek across Europe and into the mountain region, meeting with marvel and peril on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the religious ruling body, and the author's brilliantly sinister representation of austere, administrative evil – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's uncle, who blames her for his family member's death – has positioned himself into the office of head of the authority's High Council, and is set on using his fresh power to broaden the religion's control. Another protagonist, who carried baby Lyra to safety along a overflowing river as an young boy in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is dispatched to the city to find out more about the antagonist's plans. And beneath all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and costly essential oil which manifests in some way to be the origin of a societal and financial crisis spreading out from Central Asia. The substance is seen by various factions as a commercial good, by others as a research-based or spiritual miracle, and by further factions – the extremist "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of darkness; an affront that must be destroyed. The issue of where it comes from, its significance, and whether it should be removed or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
Similar to the first series, Lyra's decisions, and her fate, are shown to be inseparably entwined with the fate of the world
In the previous volume, these plots ran largely in side by side. In this final book, they come together. As in the original series, her actions and her destiny are unveiled to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the universe. Her personal mission to rejoin with her soul and rediscover her creativity becomes the primary conflict in a wider battle with an oppressive government which, as such authorities typically do, is seeking to suppress freedom of thought, innovation and expression: all the inner, defiant ways in which individuals can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The story begins with the finding of a set of curious fissures in the fabric of the world's air: portals that appear to open into other worlds. A particular portal appears to be the origin of the much debated botanical substance. The church, with Delamare at its head, designates these openings as a problem to the institution's orthodoxy and sets out to eradicate them. As our protagonist begins to move from strict rationalism and revert to feeling, yet, her certainty that these places must be preserved – that their significance and what they provide is somehow crucial – increases. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the vision, or the field of roses, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a Blakean conflict between naivety and experience is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
