Tings are unraveling in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a world that appears, here more than ever, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Organizations are failing, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from states, and accumulating in the chambers of religious leaders, the coffers of business empires, the grasp of crowds. "Something is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and strong are faltering and giving way."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Precisely what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that drives the concluding book, which picks up where the previous book ended. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final foray into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling universe he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the publication of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose terrain aligns with that of our world, but whose past diverges and shifts with ours; where the humans look and think and act like us, but are paired by external spirits, beings in animal form; where the heavens are teeming with enchantresses and gryphons, but below, buses are caught and tea is drunk, and middle-aged professors carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in the prequel, the origin story with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still recognisably the prickly and determined main character of the earlier books, but aged, more sorrowful, more careful, less certain. This circumscription is amplified by her division from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to go off in pursuit of that childlike part of her which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which followed Lyra undertake a picaresque journey across the continent and into the mountain region, encountering with amazement and risk on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in action, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the faith's controlling power, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of austere, bureaucratic malice – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – our protagonist's relative, who faults her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of leader of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his fresh influence to broaden the religion's control. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued infant the heroine to security along a swollen Thames as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an academic with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is dispatched to Geneva to discover more about Delamare's aims. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and costly essential oil which manifests mysteriously to be the cause of a social and financial disturbance spreading out from Central Asia. The oil is viewed by some as a marketable product, by different parties as a empirical or mystical miracle, and by others still – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an challenge that must be obliterated. The issue of its origins, its significance, and whether it should be eliminated or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
Like His Dark Materials, Lyra's deeds, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be inseparably entwined with the fate of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran largely in tandem. In The Rose Field, they come together. Like the first trilogy, Lyra's actions and her path are unveiled to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the world. Her individual quest to reconnect with her daemon and recover her creativity becomes the key conflict in a larger battle with an oppressive regime which, as these systems typically do, is seeking to stifle independence of thinking, innovation and expression: all the personal, rebellious ways in which people can be free.
Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles
The story begins with the finding of a set of unusual cracks in the makeup of the world's sky: windows that look to open into other worlds. One such portal seems to be the source of the much debated rose oil. The church, with its leader at its head, classifies these portals as a problem to the church's beliefs and endeavors to destroy them. As Lyra begins to shift from strict logic and return to intuition, nevertheless, her belief that these locations must be preserved – that what they stand for and what they offer is somehow crucial – strengthens. "The substance, or rose oil, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a philosophical tussle between purity and knowledge is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
