Things are collapsing in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of the author's grand trilogies set in a universe that manifests, here more than ever, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Institutions are failing, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from states, and gathering in the offices of religious leaders, the vaults of corporations, the control of rioters. "An element is at work, very quietly, gradually", says trader a trader character, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his seat in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and strong are weakening and failing."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Just what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that propels this final volume, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth concluded. This is, reportedly, the author's final venture into the elaborately built, deeply captivating world he first introduced in the distant past, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose geography corresponds to that of our world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the humans appear and think and behave like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, souls in creature form; where the air are filled with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but below, buses are caught and tea is sipped, and middle-aged scholars carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the prequel, the introductory book with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still distinctly the prickly and determined protagonist of the previous installments, but older, more sorrowful, more careful, less sure. This restraint is heightened by her separation from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to depart in quest of that childlike part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an trait which he epitomises as her "vision"), and her mission to reunite with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which saw the protagonist undertake a wandering trek across Europe and into the Caucasus, facing with marvel and risk on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in play, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the faith's controlling power, and Pullman's deliciously chilling incarnation of rigid, administrative wickedness – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's relative, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has positioned himself into the position of president of the authority's High Council, and is determined on using his newfound power to expand the church's dominium. A key character, who rescued infant Lyra to safety along a swollen river as an child in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a additional duty in espionage: he is dispatched to the city to learn more about the antagonist's plans. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the rare and precious rose oil which manifests in some way to be the cause of a social and financial crisis rippling out from the region. The substance is seen by some as a marketable product, by different parties as a research-based or esoteric phenomenon, and by yet others – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of darkness; an affront that must be eradicated. The question of its origins, its significance, and whether it should be eliminated or preserved is becoming urgent.
As in His Dark Materials, Lyra's actions, and her destiny, are revealed to be inextricably connected with the fate of the realm
In its predecessor, these storylines ran broadly in side by side. In The Rose Field, they merge. As in the original series, Lyra's actions and her destiny are revealed to be deeply linked with the destiny of the universe. Her private quest to reunite with her companion and rediscover her vision becomes the central battleground in a broader conflict with an controlling system which, as such regimes always have, is striving to suppress freedom of thinking, creativity and culture: all the internal, defiant ways in which people can be independent.
Dimensional Rifts and Moral Battles
The story opens with the discovery of a set of curious cracks in the fabric of the planet's air: gateways that seem to lead to other worlds. A particular window appears to be the point of the much debated rose oil. The church, with its leader at its head, labels these portals as a threat to the church's beliefs and aims to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to turn away from strict logic and revert to intuition, however, her conviction that these locations must be defended – that their significance and what they provide is in some way essential – strengthens. "Dust, or rose oil, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a Blakean tussle between naivety and knowledge is set.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
