Things are falling apart in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of the author's grand trilogies set in a world that appears, here more than ever, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from governments, and pooling in the halls of religious leaders, the vaults of corporations, the control of mobs. "An element is at work, silently, very subtly", says trader a trader character, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and durable are faltering and giving way."
The Central Mystery and The Protagonist's Path
Just what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that drives The Rose Field, which picks up where its predecessor concluded. This is, reportedly, the author's final foray into the elaborately built, deeply captivating world he first revealed 30 years ago, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose geography corresponds to that of the real world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by daemons, souls in creature form; where the skies are filled with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, transports are taken and tea is consumed, and middle-aged scholars carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a baby in the first volume, the origin story with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a young woman: still distinctly the prickly and tenacious protagonist of the previous installments, but aged, more sorrowful, more careful, less certain. This limitation is amplified by her division from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the cause which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
His choice to go off in quest of that childlike part of her which she appears to have shed (an trait which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed Lyra undertake a picaresque trek across Europe and into the Caucasus, encountering with marvel and danger on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in play, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the church's controlling power, and the author's deliciously chilling embodiment of austere, administrative evil – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – our protagonist's relative, who faults her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the office of head of the Magisterium's governing body, and is set on using his fresh influence to extend the religion's rule. Another protagonist, who rescued young the heroine to security along a swollen river as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a sideline in espionage: he is assigned to a key location to learn more about his intentions. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and valuable essential oil which seems somehow to be the origin of a societal and financial disturbance spreading out from the region. The extract is seen by some as a tradeable good, by alternate groups as a research-based or mystical wonder, and by yet others – the extremist "mountain dwellers" – as a wellspring of evil; an challenge that must be destroyed. The issue of where it comes from, its significance, and whether it should be removed or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in His Dark Materials, Lyra's deeds, and her destiny, are revealed to be deeply connected with the future of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran mostly in side by side. In the conclusion, they merge. As in the first trilogy, Lyra's choices and her path are shown to be inextricably entwined with the future of the realm. Her personal journey to reunite with her companion and recover her imagination becomes the primary struggle in a wider conflict with an controlling system which, as these systems typically do, is striving to quell autonomy of thought, innovation and art: all the personal, resistant ways in which humans can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The story opens with the discovery of a series of curious openings in the fabric of the world's air: gateways that seem to open into alternate realities. An example of a window appears to be the point of the much debated botanical substance. The church, with the antagonist at its leadership, designates these openings as a challenge to the institution's doctrine and endeavors to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to turn away from strict rationalism and revert to instinct, however, her belief that these sites must be preserved – that what they stand for and what they provide is in some way vital – increases. "Dust, or the extract, or the vision, or the field of roses, or whatever we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a philosophical tussle between naivety and knowledge is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
