Tings are collapsing in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a realm that manifests, here more than ever, as a charged and slanted version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing 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 states, and gathering in the offices of theocrats, the treasuries of corporations, the control of mobs. "Something is at work, silently, gradually", says businessman a trader character, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his place in an city cafe. "Things we thought were stable and solid are weakening and failing."
The Central Mystery and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that drives The Rose Field, which resumes where its predecessor concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's last foray into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling world he first introduced three decades past, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose terrain corresponds to that of this world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the humans appear and reason and act like us, but are joined by animal souls, souls in creature form; where the heavens are filled with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, buses are taken and tea is consumed, and middle-aged academics carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a baby in the first volume, the prequel with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still clearly the spiky and tenacious main character of the previous installments, but older, sadder, more cautious, less sure. This circumscription is heightened by her separation from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
The daemon's resolve to go off in search of that innocent part of her which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he represents as her "vision"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed the protagonist undertake a wandering voyage across the continent and into the Caucasus, meeting with marvel and risk on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in play, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the faith's controlling power, and the author's masterfully eerie incarnation of rigid, administrative wickedness – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's uncle, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of president of the Magisterium's High Council, and is determined on using his newfound power to expand the religion's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who carried baby Lyra to security along a overflowing Thames as an young boy in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a sideline in spycraft: he is sent to the city to discover more about Delamare's plans. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and valuable rose oil which seems somehow to be the source of a social and economic upheaval rippling out from Central Asia. The oil is regarded by various factions as a marketable commodity, by others as a scientific or mystical miracle, and by yet others – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a source of malevolence; an insult that must be destroyed. The dilemma of its source, what it stands for, and if it should be destroyed or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
Like the first series, the heroine's deeds, and her fate, are shown to be inseparably linked with the fate of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran broadly in side by side. In The Rose Field, they come together. As in the first trilogy, Lyra's actions and her destiny are shown to be inseparably linked with the future of the universe. Her private journey to rejoin with her daemon and rediscover her vision becomes the primary conflict in a broader battle with an controlling government which, as such authorities often attempt, is striving to quell freedom of reason, innovation and culture: all the internal, rebellious ways in which people can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The novel starts with the finding of a set of curious openings in the structure of the world's air: portals that appear to lead to other worlds. An example of a opening appears to be the source of the much debated rose oil. The church, with Delamare at its leadership, designates these windows as a challenge to the institution's orthodoxy and endeavors to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to shift from inflexible logic and revert to intuition, however, her belief that these sites must be protected – that their significance and what they offer is in some way vital – grows. "The substance, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a Blakean struggle between naivety and experience is prepared.
Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
