Things are collapsing in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of the author's grand trilogies set in a realm that appears, here more than ever, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reassembling themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Power is flowing away from governments, and accumulating in the chambers of religious leaders, the coffers of business empires, the grasp of rioters. "Something is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says businessman a trader character, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were firm and solid are weakening and giving way."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that propels the concluding book, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, reportedly, the author's last venture into the elaborately built, deeply captivating universe he first introduced three decades past, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a world whose geography maps on to that of the real world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and think and act like us, but are joined by external spirits, essences in beast form; where the skies are filled with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, vehicles are taken and beverages is drunk, and mature scholars carry luxury shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a child in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the first volume, the prequel with which the author began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still clearly the spiky and determined heroine of the previous installments, but aged, sadder, warier, more doubtful. This limitation is amplified by her split from her daemon, Pan – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to go off in quest of that youthful part of her which she appears to have shed (an trait which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw the protagonist undertake a wandering voyage across Europe and into the Caucasus, encountering with amazement and risk on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in play, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the religious ruling body, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister incarnation of strict, procedural wickedness – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – Lyra's uncle, who blames her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the office of head of the authority's High Council, and is set on using his fresh influence to expand the religion's control. Malcolm Polstead, who carried young the heroine to safety along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an academic with a additional duty in spycraft: he is assigned to the city to discover more about the antagonist's plans. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and costly botanical extract which manifests somehow to be the source of a societal and financial disturbance spreading out from Central Asia. The substance is viewed by various factions as a marketable product, by different parties as a scientific or esoteric phenomenon, and by others still – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a source of darkness; an insult that must be destroyed. The question of its origins, what it stands for, and if it should be eliminated or protected is escalating in importance.
Like the first series, Lyra's decisions, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be deeply linked with the destiny of the universe
In its predecessor, these narratives ran mostly in side by side. In The Rose Field, they come together. As in the first trilogy, her choices and her fate are shown to be inextricably linked with the fate of the world. Her personal mission to reconnect with her soul and rediscover her vision becomes the primary conflict in a wider war with an oppressive regime which, as such regimes often attempt, is attempting to stifle independence of thought, originality and art: all the inner, resistant ways in which people can be free.
Dimensional Rifts and Moral Battles
The book starts with the finding of a set of strange cracks in the makeup of the planet's air: portals that seem to lead to different dimensions. A particular opening manifests to be the point of the much debated rose oil. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its leadership, designates these openings as a challenge to the institution's beliefs and endeavors to destroy them. As Lyra begins to move from strict rationalism and return to instinct, nevertheless, her conviction that these locations must be defended – that their significance and what they offer is somehow crucial – strengthens. "The substance, or the substance, or the imagination, or the field of roses, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a poetic struggle between innocence and maturity is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
