Tings are falling apart in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's magisterial 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 disquieting lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Control is shifting from governments, and pooling in the offices of religious leaders, the vaults of conglomerates, the control of mobs. "Some force is at work, silently, gradually", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and strong are deteriorating and collapsing."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Just what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the question that drives The Rose Field, which picks up where its predecessor concluded. This is, by all accounts, the author's concluding venture into the elaborately built, endlessly enchanting realm he first unveiled in the distant past, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose geography aligns with that of our world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the people appear and reason and act like us, but are paired by external spirits, beings in creature form; where the air are filled with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, buses are caught and tea is sipped, and older scholars carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in the first volume, the introductory book with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still distinctly the prickly and tenacious protagonist of the prior volumes, but aged, sadder, more cautious, less sure. This circumscription is amplified by her split from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the cause which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to go off in pursuit of that childlike part of her which she seems to have lost (an quality which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her journey to reunite with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which saw the protagonist undertake a picaresque voyage across the continent and into the mountain region, meeting with wonder and peril on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the faith's governing authority, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of strict, procedural malice – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's uncle, who blames her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of leader of the church's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his fresh power to extend the religion's dominium. Another protagonist, who rescued infant Lyra to refuge along a flooded Thames as an child in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a secondary role in espionage: he is dispatched to a key location to discover more about the antagonist's plans. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and valuable botanical extract which appears mysteriously to be the cause of a societal and economic disturbance emanating out from that area. The extract is regarded by certain groups as a tradeable commodity, by different parties as a research-based or spiritual wonder, and by others still – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a source of malevolence; an affront that must be obliterated. The issue of its source, its significance, and whether it should be destroyed or protected is escalating in importance.
Similar to the original trilogy, Lyra's deeds, and her future, are shown to be inseparably connected with the fate of the realm
In the previous volume, these storylines ran broadly in tandem. In this final book, they merge. Like the original series, the protagonist's choices and her fate are unveiled to be inextricably entwined with the future of the realm. Her personal quest to reconnect with her companion and rediscover her vision becomes the key conflict in a larger war with an controlling regime which, as these systems often attempt, is attempting to stifle autonomy of thought, originality and culture: all the personal, resistant ways in which individuals can be free.
Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles
The book opens with the finding of a series of curious openings in the makeup of the world's atmosphere: gateways that appear to give on to alternate realities. One such opening manifests to be the point of the highly contested mystical extract. The church, with its leader at its helm, labels these windows as a challenge to the church's doctrine and aims to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to shift from strict rationalism and back to feeling, yet, her belief that these sites must be preserved – that their meaning and their value is mysteriously vital – grows. "The substance, or the substance, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a philosophical tussle between naivety and maturity is prepared.
Story Tempo and Personal Evolution
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
