Tings are falling apart in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that manifests, here more than ever, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from authorities, and gathering in the halls of religious leaders, the coffers of conglomerates, the grasp of rioters. "An element is at work, silently, gradually", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and strong are weakening and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and Her Quest
Precisely what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that drives The Rose Field, which resumes where the previous book concluded. This is, according to many, the author's last excursion into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating world he first revealed in the distant past, with the publication of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose terrain corresponds to that of this world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the individuals look and think and behave like us, but are paired by animal souls, souls in animal form; where the heavens are teeming with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but below, vehicles are ridden and drinks is drunk, and mature scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in La Belle Sauvage, the origin story with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still clearly the sharp and tenacious protagonist of the earlier books, but older, sadder, more careful, less certain. This restraint is amplified by her separation from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to go off in search of that youthful part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an quality which he represents as her "creativity"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a picaresque journey across the continent and into the mountain region, encountering with marvel and danger on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the church's governing authority, and the author's brilliantly sinister embodiment of rigid, procedural malice – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – our protagonist's uncle, who blames her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of leader of the church's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his recently acquired power to extend the church's rule. Another protagonist, who saved infant Lyra to refuge along a overflowing river as an young boy in the first book, is now an university scholar with a secondary role in spycraft: he is sent to Geneva to find out more about his aims. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the rare and precious botanical extract which appears mysteriously to be the origin of a social and financial crisis spreading out from the region. The substance is seen by some as a tradeable good, by alternate groups as a scientific or spiritual phenomenon, and by yet others – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a origin of evil; an challenge that must be obliterated. The issue of where it comes from, its meaning, and whether it should be destroyed or preserved is escalating in importance.
As in the original trilogy, our protagonist's actions, and her future, are shown to be inextricably connected with the fate of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran largely in tandem. In this final book, they converge. As in the first trilogy, her movements and her destiny are unveiled to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the world. Her individual journey to reconnect with her daemon and regain her imagination becomes the primary struggle in a broader conflict with an oppressive regime which, as these systems always have, is seeking to stifle independence of thought, creativity and expression: all the inner, resistant ways in which people can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The story begins with the discovery of a set of curious cracks in the structure of the world's sky: gateways that seem to open into different dimensions. An example of a window seems to be the point of the highly contested botanical substance. The church, with its leader at its helm, designates these windows as a problem to the church's orthodoxy and endeavors to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to turn away from strict logic and back to feeling, yet, her certainty that these sites must be preserved – that their significance and what they offer is in some way vital – increases. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the imagination, or the field of roses, or no matter what we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a poetic tussle between naivety and maturity is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
