Tings are unraveling in the last installment of The Book of Dust, the next of the author's grand trilogies set in a world that appears, in this volume especially, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Institutions are failing, or restructuring themselves along new and troubling lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from authorities, and gathering in the offices of theocrats, the coffers of corporations, the grasp of rioters. "Something is at work, stealthily, very subtly", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were secure and solid are deteriorating and giving way."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Just what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that drives The Rose Field, which picks up where its predecessor concluded. This is, according to many, Pullman's final foray into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting realm he first unveiled three decades past, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose geography corresponds to that of the real world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the individuals appear and think and act like us, but are paired by external spirits, beings in animal form; where the skies are filled with witches and legendary creatures, but underneath, buses are ridden and tea is drunk, and older professors carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in the prequel, the prequel with which the author began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still distinctly the spiky and persistent protagonist of the previous installments, but aged, more sorrowful, more cautious, less certain. This restraint is intensified by her separation from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
His choice to go off in pursuit of that youthful part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an quality which he symbolizes as her "creativity"), and her journey to reunite with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw Lyra undertake a picaresque journey across the continent and into the mountain region, encountering with amazement and risk on the way. But from the start, underlying forces were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the religious ruling body, and the author's brilliantly sinister incarnation of rigid, bureaucratic wickedness – is under new leadership, and asserting its power. The antagonist – Lyra's relative, who faults her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the office of leader of the authority's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his recently acquired power to broaden the religion's rule. A key character, who carried infant Lyra to refuge along a overflowing Thames as an young boy in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is assigned to Geneva to discover more about Delamare's plans. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the uncommon and valuable essential oil which appears somehow to be the cause of a social and economic disturbance rippling out from the region. The substance is seen by certain groups as a tradeable commodity, by different parties as a research-based or esoteric phenomenon, and by others still – the zealous "highland figures" – as a wellspring of evil; an challenge that must be destroyed. The question of its origins, what it stands for, and if it should be eliminated or safeguarded is coming rapidly to the fore.
Similar to the first series, our protagonist's actions, and her future, are revealed to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the universe
In its predecessor, these plots ran largely in parallel. In the conclusion, they come together. Similar to the first trilogy, her actions and her fate are unveiled to be deeply woven with the future of the realm. Her individual quest to reunite with her daemon and rediscover her creativity becomes the primary battleground in a larger battle with an authoritarian regime which, as such authorities always have, is striving to stifle freedom of thinking, innovation and art: all the inner, resistant ways in which people can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The book begins with the finding of a set of curious fissures in the fabric of the planet's sky: gateways that appear to open into different dimensions. One such window appears to be the source of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The church, with its leader at its helm, classifies these openings as a problem to the religion's doctrine and sets out to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to move from inflexible reason and revert to intuition, yet, her belief that these locations must be protected – that their significance and what they offer is mysteriously crucial – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or whatever we label it," she says, "we require it." The setting for a poetic struggle between purity and knowledge is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
