Things are unraveling in the last installment of The Book of Dust, the second of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that manifests, now more than ever, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along new and troubling lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is draining from states, and accumulating in the chambers of religious leaders, the vaults of conglomerates, the grasp of crowds. "An element is at work, silently, gradually", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and strong are faltering and giving way."
The Central Mystery and The Protagonist's Path
Just what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the question that propels The Rose Field, which picks up where the previous book concluded. This is, according to many, Pullman's concluding excursion into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating world he first revealed three decades past, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose landscape corresponds to that of our world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals look and think and act like us, but are paired by daemons, beings in animal form; where the skies are teeming with witches and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, transports are ridden and beverages is consumed, and mature academics carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in the first volume, the introductory book with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still distinctly the prickly and tenacious protagonist of the previous installments, but aged, melancholic, more cautious, less certain. This restraint is heightened by her division from her daemon, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
The daemon's resolve to go off in pursuit of that innocent part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an quality which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed the protagonist undertake a picaresque trek across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with marvel and risk on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in play, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the faith's controlling power, and the author's brilliantly sinister representation of austere, bureaucratic evil – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – Lyra's relative, who blames her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the office of president of the authority's High Council, and is set on using his newfound influence to broaden the church's rule. Another protagonist, who saved infant the heroine to security along a swollen Thames as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a additional duty in spycraft: he is sent to Geneva to discover more about the antagonist's aims. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the rare and costly essential oil which appears somehow to be the cause of a social and economic crisis spreading out from Central Asia. The substance is regarded by some as a commercial commodity, by others as a research-based or spiritual miracle, and by further factions – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an affront that must be eradicated. The issue of its origins, its meaning, and whether it should be eliminated or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
Like the original trilogy, Lyra's deeds, and her fate, are demonstrated to be inextricably entwined with the future of the universe
In its predecessor, these narratives ran broadly in parallel. In this final book, they merge. As in the first trilogy, her movements and her fate are revealed to be deeply linked with the future of the universe. Her private mission to reconnect with her companion and recover her vision becomes the key struggle in a broader conflict with an oppressive system which, as such regimes always have, is attempting to quell freedom of reason, innovation and expression: all the inner, rebellious ways in which individuals can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The book opens with the finding of a series of unusual fissures in the makeup of the planet's atmosphere: portals that appear to lead to alternate realities. An example of a opening appears to be the point of the highly contested rose oil. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its leadership, labels these windows as a challenge to the institution's beliefs and endeavors to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to turn away from strict logic and revert to intuition, yet, her conviction that these sites must be defended – that their meaning and their value is mysteriously vital – increases. "The substance, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a philosophical conflict between purity and knowledge is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
