Tings are falling apart in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the next of the author's grand trilogies set in a world that appears, here more than ever, as a intense and slanted version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or reorganizing themselves along novel and troubling lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is draining from governments, and accumulating in the chambers of theocrats, the coffers of corporations, the hands of mobs. "Something is at work, stealthily, gradually", says businessman a trader character, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and durable are weakening and collapsing."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that propels this final volume, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, according to many, Pullman's last venture into the elaborately built, deeply captivating world he first revealed three decades past, with the publication of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose geography corresponds to that of this world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the individuals appear and think and behave like us, but are joined by animal souls, souls in beast form; where the heavens are teeming with enchantresses and gryphons, but underneath, vehicles are ridden and tea is consumed, and mature professors carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a child in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in the prequel, the prequel with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still clearly the sharp and tenacious heroine of the earlier books, but more mature, more sorrowful, more cautious, less certain. This restraint is intensified by her separation from her animal guide, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to leave in pursuit of that childlike part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he represents as her "creativity"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled Lyra undertake a wandering trek across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with amazement and peril on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in action, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the religious governing authority, and Pullman's deliciously chilling representation of strict, procedural malice – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. The antagonist – the heroine's relative, who blames her for his family member's death – has positioned himself into the role of president of the authority's governing body, and is set on using his newfound influence to expand the religion's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who carried infant the heroine to refuge along a flooded river as an young boy in the first book, is now an academic with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is dispatched to Geneva to discover more about the antagonist's intentions. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and valuable essential oil which manifests in some way to be the source of a societal and economic disturbance rippling out from that area. The substance is viewed by certain groups as a commercial commodity, by alternate groups as a empirical or esoteric miracle, and by further factions – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a source of darkness; an affront that must be destroyed. The question of its origins, its meaning, and whether it should be destroyed or preserved is becoming urgent.
Like His Dark Materials, Lyra's decisions, and her future, are revealed to be inextricably linked with the destiny of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran largely in parallel. In The Rose Field, they merge. Similar to the original series, Lyra's movements and her path are unveiled to be inseparably woven with the destiny of the universe. Her individual quest to reconnect with her soul and recover her creativity becomes the central struggle in a larger battle with an authoritarian regime which, as these systems often attempt, is attempting to stifle autonomy of reason, innovation and art: all the inner, rebellious ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The story starts with the finding of a collection of curious openings in the makeup of the world's atmosphere: windows that look to give on to alternate realities. A particular opening appears to be the point of the highly contested botanical substance. The authority, with the antagonist at its helm, designates these portals as a problem to the church's doctrine and endeavors to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to turn away from inflexible reason and revert to intuition, yet, her certainty that these sites must be defended – that their meaning and their value is mysteriously vital – grows. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the vision, or the field of roses, or whatever we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a Blakean tussle between naivety and knowledge is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
