Tings are collapsing in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that manifests, here more than ever, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along new and troubling lines. An unseen force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Power is flowing away from authorities, and accumulating in the offices of religious leaders, the vaults of corporations, the grasp of crowds. "Some force is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his post in an city cafe. "Things we thought were secure and solid are faltering and giving way."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that something might be, and ways to oppose it, is the question that drives the concluding book, which continues where its predecessor concluded. This is, by all accounts, the author's final foray into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting realm he first unveiled in the distant past, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose terrain corresponds to that of the real world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the humans look and reason and behave like us, but are paired by animal souls, souls in beast form; where the skies are filled with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, transports are caught and drinks is consumed, and older professors carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the first volume, the prequel with which the author began this trilogy, is now a adult: still recognisably the prickly and persistent protagonist of the earlier books, but older, sadder, more cautious, less sure. This circumscription is heightened by her separation from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to go off in pursuit of that youthful part of her which she seems to have lost (an quality which he represents as her "creativity"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of the prior book, which followed the protagonist undertake a adventurous journey across Europe and into the Caucasus, meeting with marvel and danger on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the church's ruling body, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of austere, procedural malice – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's uncle, who faults her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of head of the authority's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his fresh authority to expand the religion's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued young the heroine to security along a swollen river as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an university scholar with a secondary role in intelligence work: he is dispatched to Geneva to discover more about the antagonist's aims. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and precious essential oil which appears mysteriously to be the origin of a societal and financial upheaval rippling out from that area. The oil is viewed by some as a commercial product, by others as a empirical or spiritual wonder, and by yet others – the extremist "highland figures" – as a source of darkness; an insult that must be eradicated. The question of its origins, its significance, and whether it should be eliminated or protected is coming rapidly to the fore.
Like His Dark Materials, our protagonist's actions, and her fate, are shown to be inextricably linked with the fate of the realm
In the previous volume, these narratives ran largely in tandem. In this final book, they merge. Similar to His Dark Materials, her actions and her destiny are shown to be inextricably linked with the fate of the world. Her individual quest to rejoin with her companion and regain her vision becomes the primary struggle in a larger war with an authoritarian regime which, as such authorities often attempt, is seeking to stifle independence of reason, creativity and art: all the internal, defiant ways in which humans can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles
The book begins with the unveiling of a set of unusual openings in the structure of the Earth's air: gateways that seem to lead to other worlds. An example of a portal seems to be the point of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The authority, with its leader at its leadership, labels these windows as a problem to the church's doctrine and endeavors to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to turn away from inflexible rationalism and back to intuition, yet, her belief that these places must be protected – that what they stand for and what they provide is mysteriously crucial – increases. "Dust, or rose oil, or the imagination, or the field of roses, or whatever we call it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a Blakean tussle between innocence and experience is prepared.
Story Tempo and Character Development
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
