Tings are falling apart in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a realm that manifests, now more than ever, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Establishments are failing, or restructuring themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from authorities, and accumulating in the chambers of theocrats, the treasuries of business empires, the control of mobs. "Some force is at work, stealthily, very subtly", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and solid are faltering and collapsing."
The Central Mystery and Her Quest
Just what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the question that drives the concluding book, which resumes where its predecessor concluded. This is, reportedly, the author's concluding excursion into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting world he first introduced in the distant past, with the publication of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose geography corresponds to that of this world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the humans look and think and act like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, souls in animal form; where the skies are filled with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but below, transports are taken and tea is sipped, and mature professors carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a child in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in the prequel, the origin story with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still clearly the sharp and determined heroine of the earlier books, but older, more sorrowful, more careful, less certain. This restraint is amplified by her division from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the cause which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
His choice to depart in pursuit of that innocent part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an trait which he represents as her "vision"), and her journey to reunite with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which followed Lyra undertake a picaresque journey across Europe and into the Caucasus, facing with marvel and peril on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the faith's governing authority, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of austere, bureaucratic evil – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's relative, who blames her for his sibling's death – has worked himself into the role of leader of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his fresh authority to expand the institution's control. Another protagonist, who carried baby Lyra to safety along a flooded river as an child in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in spycraft: he is assigned to the city to discover more about the antagonist's plans. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the rare and costly rose oil which appears mysteriously to be the source of a social and financial disturbance emanating out from the region. The substance is viewed by some as a tradeable commodity, by others as a research-based or esoteric phenomenon, and by others still – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a origin of malevolence; an challenge that must be destroyed. The question of its origins, its meaning, and whether it should be removed or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.
Like His Dark Materials, our protagonist's deeds, and her fate, are demonstrated to be deeply connected with the future of the universe
In the previous volume, these narratives ran broadly in side by side. In the conclusion, they converge. As in His Dark Materials, her actions and her path are revealed to be inseparably entwined with the destiny of the world. Her personal mission to reunite with her daemon and recover her creativity becomes the key struggle in a broader conflict with an controlling government which, as these systems often attempt, is striving to suppress autonomy of thinking, innovation and expression: all the inner, rebellious ways in which people can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles
The story begins with the unveiling of a collection of unusual openings in the makeup of the world's air: windows that look to lead to alternate realities. One such portal manifests to be the origin of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The church, with its leader at its helm, classifies these openings as a problem to the church's beliefs and sets out to destroy them. As our protagonist begins to shift from inflexible logic and back to instinct, however, her belief that these places must be protected – that their significance and their value is mysteriously crucial – grows. "Dust, or the substance, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a philosophical tussle between innocence and maturity is established.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
