Tings are collapsing in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the second of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that manifests, in this volume especially, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Institutions are failing, or reassembling themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from authorities, and pooling in the chambers of religious leaders, the treasuries of corporations, the hands of rioters. "Some force is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says businessman a merchant figure, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were firm and strong are weakening and collapsing."
Core Enigma and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that drives The Rose Field, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, according to many, Pullman's final excursion into the elaborately built, infinitely beguiling universe he first introduced in the distant past, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose terrain aligns with that of the real world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the individuals look and reason and behave like us, but are joined by animal souls, souls in beast form; where the skies are filled with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, transports are caught and tea is drunk, and middle-aged academics carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a baby in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which Pullman began the series, is now a adult: still recognisably the sharp and persistent main character of the prior volumes, but older, melancholic, more cautious, less certain. This limitation is amplified by her division from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
His choice to leave in pursuit of that youthful part of her which she may have forgotten (an trait which he represents as her "imagination"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which followed the protagonist undertake a adventurous trek across the continent and into the mountain region, meeting with amazement and peril on the way. But from the beginning, deeper currents were in action, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the faith's controlling power, and the author's brilliantly sinister representation of rigid, procedural wickedness – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's uncle, who blames her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the role of leader of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is set on using his fresh authority to expand the church's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who saved baby Lyra to safety along a swollen river as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a secondary role in espionage: he is sent to Geneva to learn more about the antagonist's aims. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and valuable rose oil which seems somehow to be the origin of a social and financial upheaval spreading out from the region. The oil is viewed by some as a commercial good, by different parties as a scientific or spiritual phenomenon, and by further factions – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a source of darkness; an insult that must be destroyed. The question of where it comes from, what it stands for, and if it should be removed or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
As in the first series, our protagonist's deeds, and her destiny, are shown to be deeply connected with the future of the universe
In its predecessor, these storylines ran mostly in parallel. In this final book, they merge. Similar to the first trilogy, the protagonist's choices and her path are unveiled to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the universe. Her personal quest to reconnect with her daemon and recover her imagination becomes the central conflict in a larger battle with an authoritarian system which, as such regimes always have, is attempting to stifle independence of reason, originality and culture: all the personal, rebellious ways in which humans can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The book begins with the discovery of a collection of curious openings in the makeup of the world's atmosphere: windows that appear to open into other worlds. An example of a opening manifests to be the origin of the highly contested mystical extract. The church, with the antagonist at its helm, labels these openings as a problem to the religion's beliefs and sets out to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to shift from inflexible rationalism and revert to feeling, yet, her belief that these locations must be preserved – that what they stand for and their value is mysteriously crucial – increases. "The substance, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or whatever we call it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a philosophical struggle between innocence and maturity is established.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
