Tings are collapsing in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the next of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that seems, in this volume especially, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Establishments are failing, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and troubling lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is flowing away from states, and accumulating in the offices of theocrats, the treasuries of business empires, the control of mobs. "Some force is at work, very quietly, gradually", says businessman a merchant figure, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and strong are deteriorating and failing."
The Central Mystery and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that animates The Rose Field, which picks up where its predecessor ended. This is, according to many, the author's final foray into the elaborately built, infinitely beguiling universe he first introduced in the distant past, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose geography corresponds to that of our world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and think and behave like us, but are joined by daemons, essences in creature form; where the heavens are populated with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, buses are ridden and drinks is consumed, and middle-aged academics carry fancy shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a infant in the first volume, the introductory book with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still clearly the spiky and determined main character of the previous installments, but more mature, sadder, warier, more doubtful. This circumscription is amplified by her split from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
His choice to depart in pursuit of that innocent part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he represents as her "imagination"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which saw Lyra undertake a picaresque trek across Europe and into the mountain region, meeting with amazement and risk on the way. But from the beginning, profound shifts were in play, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the faith's ruling body, and the author's masterfully eerie incarnation of austere, procedural evil – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's uncle, who blames her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of head of the church's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his recently acquired authority to extend the institution's control. A key character, who rescued baby Lyra to security along a swollen river as an child in La Belle Sauvage, is now an university scholar with a sideline in spycraft: he is dispatched to the city to find out more about Delamare's intentions. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and valuable essential oil which appears mysteriously to be the source of a social and economic disturbance rippling out from that area. The substance is viewed by some as a commercial product, by different parties as a scientific or mystical wonder, and by yet others – the extremist "mountain dwellers" – as a wellspring of evil; an affront that must be eradicated. The dilemma of its origins, its meaning, and whether it should be removed or preserved is becoming urgent.
As in the original trilogy, Lyra's deeds, and her fate, are shown to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran largely in tandem. In the conclusion, they converge. Like His Dark Materials, Lyra's movements and her path are shown to be inextricably entwined with the future of the realm. Her individual mission to reconnect with her soul and rediscover her vision becomes the key conflict in a broader battle with an oppressive government which, as such regimes typically do, is attempting to suppress independence of reason, creativity and culture: all the inner, resistant ways in which humans can be free.
Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles
The novel begins with the unveiling of a set of curious cracks in the structure of the world's air: gateways that look to open into other worlds. One such portal seems to be the origin of the highly contested botanical substance. The authority, with the antagonist at its head, classifies these windows as a problem to the institution's beliefs and sets out to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to shift from rigid reason and revert to instinct, yet, her certainty that these locations must be protected – that what they stand for and what they offer is somehow vital – grows. "Dust, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a Blakean conflict between purity and knowledge is established.
Story Tempo and Character Development
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
