Things are falling apart in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a universe that appears, in this volume especially, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Establishments are failing, or reorganizing themselves along new and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from authorities, and pooling in the chambers of theocrats, the coffers of conglomerates, the grasp of crowds. "Something is at work, stealthily, gradually", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his seat in an city cafe. "Things we thought were secure and strong are weakening and giving way."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that something might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that animates the concluding book, which picks up where the previous book left off. This is, reportedly, the author's last foray into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating universe he first revealed 30 years ago, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a world whose terrain maps on to that of the real world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the humans appear and reason and act like us, but are joined by animal souls, souls in beast form; where the heavens are filled with enchantresses and gryphons, but underneath, transports are caught and drinks is consumed, and middle-aged academics carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a infant in the prequel, the origin story with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the prickly and tenacious protagonist of the previous installments, but more mature, more sorrowful, more careful, less sure. This restraint is amplified by her division from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
The daemon's resolve to leave in pursuit of that innocent part of her which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he represents as her "imagination"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a adventurous journey across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with marvel and risk on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the religious controlling power, and the author's deliciously chilling embodiment of strict, bureaucratic wickedness – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's uncle, who blames her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of head of the church's High Council, and is determined on using his recently acquired authority to expand the church's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who carried baby Lyra to security along a flooded Thames as an child in the first book, is now an university scholar with a sideline in spycraft: he is dispatched to the city to learn more about his intentions. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and precious rose oil which manifests in some way to be the origin of a societal and economic upheaval spreading out from the region. The oil is seen by various factions as a marketable commodity, by alternate groups as a empirical or mystical miracle, and by others still – the extremist "highland figures" – as a origin of evil; an affront that must be eradicated. The question of where it comes from, what it stands for, and if it should be removed or preserved is becoming urgent.
As in the original trilogy, Lyra's actions, and her destiny, are revealed to be inextricably linked with the destiny of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran mostly in tandem. In The Rose Field, they converge. Similar to His Dark Materials, the protagonist's actions and her destiny are shown to be deeply linked with the fate of the realm. Her individual quest to reunite with her companion and recover her creativity becomes the primary battleground in a broader war with an authoritarian regime which, as such regimes always have, is seeking to stifle independence of thinking, originality and expression: all the inner, defiant ways in which humans can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Moral Battles
The novel begins with the unveiling of a set of unusual openings in the fabric of the world's air: gateways that appear to open into different dimensions. A particular opening appears to be the point of the much debated rose oil. The authority, with its leader at its leadership, classifies these openings as a problem to the institution's beliefs and endeavors to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to move from strict logic and back to feeling, however, her conviction that these places must be defended – that their meaning and their value is mysteriously vital – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or whatever we name it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a Blakean conflict between innocence and knowledge is established.
Story Tempo and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
