Things are unraveling in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of the author's grand trilogies set in a world that seems, in this volume especially, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Establishments are failing, or restructuring themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from states, and pooling in the chambers of theocrats, the vaults of corporations, the hands of crowds. "Something is at work, very quietly, imperceptibly", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were firm and durable are faltering and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the question that drives The Rose Field, which picks up where the previous book concluded. This is, reportedly, the author's concluding venture into the elaborately built, deeply captivating universe he first revealed 30 years ago, with the publication of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose terrain maps on to that of this world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the humans appear and reason and act like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, souls in creature form; where the skies are filled with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, vehicles are ridden and beverages is sipped, and middle-aged professors carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in the first volume, the origin story with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a young woman: still recognisably the spiky and tenacious protagonist of the prior volumes, but older, melancholic, more cautious, more doubtful. This restraint is amplified by her separation from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the trigger 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 Lyra which she appears to have shed (an trait which he symbolizes as her "creativity"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a adventurous journey across the continent and into the Caucasus, meeting with amazement and risk on the way. But from the beginning, deeper currents were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the religious controlling power, and Pullman's masterfully eerie incarnation of rigid, procedural wickedness – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's family member, who blames her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the role of head of the Magisterium's governing body, and is set on using his recently acquired power to expand the religion's control. Another protagonist, who rescued infant the heroine to refuge along a overflowing Thames as an child in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in spycraft: he is dispatched to a key location to discover more about his plans. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the rare and valuable essential oil which manifests somehow to be the origin of a social and economic upheaval spreading out from Central Asia. The extract is regarded by certain groups as a commercial good, by different parties as a empirical or esoteric wonder, and by others still – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a wellspring of darkness; an affront that must be destroyed. The issue of where it comes from, its meaning, and if it should be destroyed or protected is becoming urgent.
Similar to the original trilogy, our protagonist's decisions, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be deeply connected with the fate of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran largely in parallel. In the conclusion, they merge. As in the first trilogy, her actions and her fate are revealed to be inextricably entwined with the future of the world. Her individual journey to reconnect with her soul and rediscover her imagination becomes the primary struggle in a wider battle with an controlling system which, as such authorities often attempt, is attempting to quell independence of thinking, originality and expression: all the internal, defiant ways in which humans can be free.
Dimensional Rifts and Moral Battles
The book starts with the discovery of a collection of strange cracks in the structure of the Earth's sky: gateways that seem to lead to different dimensions. A particular portal manifests to be the source of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The church, with the antagonist at its helm, classifies these portals as a challenge to the religion's doctrine and endeavors to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to move from strict logic and revert to intuition, yet, her belief that these sites must be protected – that their meaning and what they offer is somehow essential – grows. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or whatever we call it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a poetic struggle between naivety and maturity is established.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
