Things are falling apart in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a universe that appears, in this volume especially, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or reassembling themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Power is draining from states, and accumulating in the offices of theocrats, the treasuries of business empires, the control of rioters. "An element is at work, silently, very subtly", says trader a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were stable and solid are faltering and failing."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Exactly what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that drives The Rose Field, which continues where its predecessor concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's concluding excursion into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting realm he first revealed in the distant past, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose terrain aligns with that of the real world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the people appear and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, beings in animal form; where the skies are filled with witches and legendary creatures, but underneath, transports are caught and drinks is drunk, and mature professors carry luxury shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first encountered as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a infant in the prequel, the prequel with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a young woman: still recognisably the spiky and tenacious protagonist of the earlier books, but aged, sadder, more cautious, more doubtful. This circumscription is amplified by her separation from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which made him desert her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to depart in pursuit of that childlike part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an quality which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which followed the protagonist undertake a picaresque voyage across the continent and into the mountain region, meeting with amazement and risk on the way. But from the start, underlying forces were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the church's controlling power, and the author's masterfully eerie embodiment of austere, procedural malice – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's relative, who faults her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the position of president of the authority's governing body, and is set on using his recently acquired authority to broaden the church's rule. A key character, who carried infant Lyra to security along a swollen river as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a secondary role in espionage: he is dispatched to the city to discover more about Delamare's intentions. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and costly essential oil which appears somehow to be the origin of a social and economic crisis emanating out from that area. The substance is regarded by various factions as a tradeable good, by alternate groups as a research-based or esoteric wonder, and by further factions – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a source of malevolence; an challenge that must be eradicated. The question of where it comes from, its meaning, and whether it should be removed or protected is escalating in importance.
Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's decisions, and her fate, are demonstrated to be deeply linked with the destiny of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran mostly in parallel. In The Rose Field, they come together. Similar to the original series, the protagonist's choices and her destiny are revealed to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the realm. Her personal mission to rejoin with her soul and recover her imagination becomes the primary struggle in a broader conflict with an authoritarian system which, as such regimes often attempt, is attempting to quell freedom of thought, innovation and culture: all the personal, resistant ways in which people can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The book starts with the unveiling of a set of curious cracks in the fabric of the planet's sky: portals that seem to lead to alternate realities. An example of a window manifests to be the origin of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The church, with its leader at its head, classifies these portals as a threat to the religion's doctrine and sets out to destroy them. As Lyra begins to turn away from strict rationalism and return to feeling, nevertheless, her certainty that these sites must be preserved – that their meaning and what they offer is in some way vital – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we require it." The scene for a Blakean conflict between naivety and knowledge is set.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
