Things are collapsing in the last installment of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a world that manifests, in this volume especially, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or restructuring themselves along new and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from authorities, and gathering in the halls of religious leaders, the treasuries of conglomerates, the control of crowds. "An element is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says merchant a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his post in an city cafe. "Things we thought were secure and solid are faltering and giving way."
The Central Mystery and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that drives The Rose Field, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's final excursion into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating realm he first revealed 30 years ago, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose landscape corresponds to that of this world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals appear and think and behave like us, but are paired by animal souls, souls in beast form; where the skies are teeming with sorceresses and gryphons, but underneath, buses are taken and tea is sipped, and older scholars carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a child in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the sharp and tenacious protagonist of the previous installments, but aged, more sorrowful, warier, less sure. This circumscription is heightened by her split from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the cause which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to leave 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 catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled Lyra undertake a wandering voyage across Europe and into the mountain region, meeting with wonder and risk on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the religious ruling body, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister embodiment of strict, administrative malice – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – the heroine's relative, who faults her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the office of president of the church's High Council, and is intent on using his newfound influence to expand the church's rule. A key character, who carried young Lyra to security along a swollen river as an young boy in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a secondary role in spycraft: he is dispatched to the city to find out more about his plans. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and valuable botanical extract which manifests mysteriously to be the origin of a societal and financial crisis spreading out from that area. The extract is viewed by some as a tradeable good, by alternate groups as a scientific or esoteric miracle, and by yet others – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a source of malevolence; an affront that must be eradicated. The issue of where it comes from, what it stands for, and whether it should be eliminated or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
As in the first series, Lyra's decisions, and her destiny, are revealed to be deeply linked with the destiny of the realm
In its predecessor, these storylines ran largely in tandem. In this final book, they come together. Like the original series, her choices and her path are revealed to be deeply entwined with the fate of the world. Her individual quest to reconnect with her soul and recover her vision becomes the primary battleground in a broader battle with an oppressive system which, as such regimes typically do, is striving to quell autonomy of reason, creativity and art: all the personal, rebellious ways in which humans can be free.
Dimensional Rifts and Ideological Conflicts
The novel opens with the discovery of a set of curious fissures in the makeup of the world's sky: portals that look to give on to different dimensions. A particular window appears to be the point of the highly contested mystical extract. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its leadership, designates these openings as a threat to the church's beliefs and aims to eradicate them. As our protagonist begins to shift from strict logic and revert to instinct, however, her certainty that these locations must be defended – that what they stand for and what they provide is in some way vital – increases. "Dust, 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 philosophical struggle between innocence and maturity is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
