Tings are collapsing in the last installment of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a world that manifests, here more than ever, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and troubling lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from states, and pooling in the chambers of religious leaders, the vaults of business empires, the grasp of crowds. "Something is at work, very quietly, gradually", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and durable are faltering and giving way."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that drives The Rose Field, which continues where its predecessor ended. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final excursion into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling universe he first unveiled in the distant past, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose geography corresponds to that of our world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the people appear and think and behave like us, but are joined by animal souls, beings in beast form; where the skies are teeming with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, vehicles are ridden and tea is sipped, and middle-aged academics carry luxury shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the origin story with which the author began this trilogy, is now a adult: still recognisably the sharp and determined protagonist of the previous installments, but older, melancholic, more cautious, less sure. This restraint is amplified by her separation from her animal guide, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which made him desert her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
His choice to depart in pursuit of that innocent part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an quality which he represents as her "imagination"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a adventurous trek across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with amazement and danger on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the faith's ruling body, and Pullman's masterfully eerie representation of austere, administrative evil – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's family member, who blames her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the office of president of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his recently acquired influence to broaden the church's control. Another protagonist, who carried young Lyra to safety along a swollen Thames as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in intelligence work: he is sent to Geneva to discover more about Delamare's aims. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and precious rose oil which manifests mysteriously to be the origin of a societal and financial upheaval emanating out from Central Asia. The substance is seen by various factions as a tradeable commodity, by alternate groups as a scientific or esoteric wonder, and by yet others – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of darkness; an affront that must be eradicated. The question of where it comes from, what it stands for, and if it should be eliminated or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
Like the first series, the heroine's decisions, and her future, are revealed to be deeply linked with the future of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran mostly in side by side. In the conclusion, they merge. Like His Dark Materials, her actions and her destiny are shown to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the realm. Her individual journey to reunite with her daemon and rediscover her vision becomes the primary conflict in a larger conflict with an controlling government which, as such authorities always have, is striving to suppress freedom of thought, creativity and expression: all the personal, resistant ways in which humans can be independent.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The book opens with the unveiling of a collection of strange cracks in the structure of the Earth's sky: portals that look to lead to different dimensions. An example of a opening appears to be the point of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The authority, with Delamare at its helm, labels these windows as a challenge to the church's beliefs and sets out to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to turn away from rigid logic and back to instinct, nevertheless, her belief that these places must be defended – that their significance and what they provide is somehow vital – strengthens. "The substance, or the extract, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we require it." The scene for a poetic struggle between innocence and maturity is established.
Story Tempo and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
