Tings are unraveling in the last installment of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a world that seems, in this volume especially, as a charged and slanted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or restructuring themselves along new and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from states, and accumulating in the chambers of theocrats, the treasuries of business empires, the hands of mobs. "An element is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a watchful eye on the Silk Roads from his place in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and solid are weakening and giving way."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that propels this final volume, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth concluded. This is, reportedly, the author's last excursion into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling universe he first introduced three decades past, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose geography aligns with that of the real world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and think and act like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, beings in animal form; where the air are filled with witches and gryphons, but beneath those skies, buses are taken and tea is sipped, and mature professors carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, 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 introductory book with which the author began the series, is now a young woman: still recognisably the sharp and determined heroine of the previous installments, but more mature, sadder, more cautious, less sure. This circumscription is heightened by her separation from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to leave in search of that youthful part of the heroine which she may have forgotten (an trait which he represents as her "imagination"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled Lyra undertake a wandering trek across the continent and into the mountain region, meeting with marvel and peril on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in action, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the religious ruling body, and the author's deliciously chilling embodiment of strict, administrative malice – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's relative, who faults her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of president of the authority's High Council, and is set on using his newfound influence to extend the church's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who carried infant Lyra to safety along a overflowing Thames as an child in the first book, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in spycraft: he is dispatched to a key location to discover more about the antagonist's aims. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and precious rose oil which seems in some way to be the source of a social and economic upheaval emanating out from that area. The extract is seen by some as a tradeable product, by others as a scientific or spiritual wonder, and by yet others – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a source of darkness; an affront that must be destroyed. The question of its source, what it stands for, and whether it should be destroyed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
As in His Dark Materials, the heroine's deeds, and her destiny, are shown to be inextricably linked with the destiny of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran broadly in tandem. In The Rose Field, they merge. As in His Dark Materials, Lyra's actions and her fate are unveiled to be inseparably woven with the fate of the world. Her individual journey to reconnect with her companion and recover her vision becomes the central struggle in a broader conflict with an oppressive government which, as such regimes often attempt, is attempting to suppress independence of thinking, originality and culture: all the personal, resistant ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Moral Battles
The book begins with the discovery of a set of curious openings in the structure of the Earth's air: portals that seem to give on to different dimensions. One such opening appears to be the origin of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its leadership, classifies these portals as a threat to the institution's doctrine and aims to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to move from rigid rationalism and back to instinct, yet, her belief that these places must be protected – that their significance and their value is somehow crucial – grows. "Dust, or the extract, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a Blakean conflict between innocence and maturity is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
