Things are falling apart in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a realm that appears, here more than ever, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or reorganizing themselves along new and disquieting lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Power is draining from governments, and accumulating in the offices of theocrats, the treasuries of conglomerates, the grasp of mobs. "An element is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says merchant a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an city cafe. "Things we thought were stable and solid are deteriorating and failing."
The Central Mystery and Her Quest
Precisely what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that drives this final volume, which resumes where the previous book left off. This is, by all accounts, the author's final venture into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting universe he first introduced 30 years ago, with the publication of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose landscape aligns with that of the real world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and think and behave like us, but are accompanied by daemons, souls in creature form; where the heavens are teeming with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but underneath, buses are ridden and tea is drunk, and older scholars carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the origin story with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still distinctly the spiky and tenacious heroine of the prior volumes, but aged, sadder, more careful, less sure. This circumscription is amplified by her separation from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, ironically, the cause which made him desert her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to leave in pursuit of that youthful part of the heroine which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which saw Lyra undertake a wandering trek across Europe and into the Caucasus, facing with wonder and risk on the way. But from the start, underlying forces were in play, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the religious ruling body, and the author's deliciously chilling representation of strict, procedural evil – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's family member, who faults her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the position of head of the church's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his fresh influence to expand the institution's control. A key character, who carried infant Lyra to security along a flooded river as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an academic with a sideline in espionage: he is assigned to Geneva to learn more about Delamare's intentions. And beneath all of this is the puzzle surrounding the uncommon and valuable botanical extract which seems mysteriously to be the source of a social and financial upheaval emanating out from Central Asia. The extract is regarded by various factions as a commercial product, by alternate groups as a empirical or esoteric wonder, and by yet others – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a wellspring of evil; an insult that must be obliterated. The issue of its source, its significance, and whether it should be removed or preserved is becoming urgent.
As in His Dark Materials, the heroine's actions, and her fate, are revealed to be inseparably connected with the destiny of the world
In the previous volume, these plots ran broadly in tandem. In the conclusion, they come together. Similar to the original series, her movements and her destiny are shown to be deeply entwined with the future of the universe. Her private quest to reunite with her daemon and recover her imagination becomes the primary battleground in a larger battle with an oppressive regime which, as such authorities always have, is seeking to stifle autonomy of reason, innovation and culture: all the internal, resistant ways in which humans can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Ideological Conflicts
The book begins with the finding of a set of curious cracks in the makeup of the Earth's atmosphere: gateways that seem to give on to other worlds. A particular window manifests to be the origin of the highly contested botanical substance. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its helm, designates these windows as a problem to the institution's doctrine and sets out to destroy them. As our protagonist begins to turn away from strict reason and return to feeling, nevertheless, her belief that these sites must be protected – that their significance and their value is somehow crucial – increases. "Dust, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we require it." The scene for a Blakean struggle between naivety and maturity is established.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
