Tings are collapsing in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of the author's grand trilogies set in a realm that appears, here more than ever, as a intense and slanted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or restructuring themselves along new and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is flowing away from authorities, and gathering in the chambers of theocrats, the treasuries of corporations, the hands of rioters. "Something is at work, very quietly, gradually", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and solid are deteriorating and failing."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that propels the concluding book, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, reportedly, the author's last venture into the elaborately built, deeply captivating realm he first unveiled in the distant past, with the launch of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose landscape corresponds to that of this world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals appear and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, essences in beast form; where the heavens are teeming with witches and legendary creatures, but below, transports are caught and tea is drunk, and older professors carry fancy shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first met as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a infant in the prequel, the introductory book with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still distinctly the spiky and persistent protagonist of the previous installments, but older, sadder, more cautious, less sure. This circumscription is intensified by her split from her animal guide, her daemon – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
His choice to depart in quest of that innocent part of the heroine which she may have forgotten (an trait which he represents as her "creativity"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which chronicled Lyra undertake a picaresque journey across the continent and into the Caucasus, meeting with marvel and danger on the way. But from the beginning, profound shifts were in motion, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the religious governing authority, and the author's masterfully eerie incarnation of austere, administrative wickedness – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's uncle, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of leader of the church's High Council, and is intent on using his newfound influence to expand the institution's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who saved baby Lyra to refuge along a flooded river as an young boy in the first book, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is sent to Geneva to discover more about Delamare's plans. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the rare and valuable botanical extract which manifests in some way to be the origin of a societal and financial crisis spreading out from Central Asia. The oil is regarded by some as a tradeable commodity, by different parties as a research-based or mystical miracle, and by yet others – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of evil; an challenge that must be destroyed. The issue of its origins, its significance, and if it should be removed or preserved is escalating in importance.
Similar to the original trilogy, the heroine's deeds, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be inseparably entwined with the future of the world
In the previous volume, these narratives ran largely in side by side. In the conclusion, they come together. Like the original series, Lyra's actions and her destiny are shown to be inextricably entwined with the fate of the universe. Her private journey to reconnect with her daemon and recover her creativity becomes the central battleground in a wider war with an controlling system which, as these systems always have, is seeking to quell independence of thought, innovation and culture: all the internal, resistant ways in which humans can be free.
Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles
The story begins with the unveiling of a collection of curious cracks in the fabric of the planet's atmosphere: windows that appear to lead to alternate realities. An example of a portal manifests to be the point of the fiercely disputed mystical extract. The authority, with Delamare at its head, classifies these openings as a threat to the church's beliefs and sets out to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to move from rigid logic and return to intuition, yet, her belief that these places must be protected – that their significance and what they provide is somehow vital – grows. "The substance, or the substance, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a philosophical tussle between innocence and knowledge is established.
Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
