Tings are collapsing in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of the author's grand trilogies set in a world that seems, here more than ever, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or restructuring themselves along new and disquieting lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is shifting from authorities, and pooling in the offices of religious leaders, the vaults of corporations, the grasp of rioters. "An element is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his post in an city cafe. "Things we thought were stable and solid are weakening and collapsing."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Just what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that animates The Rose Field, which picks up where the previous book left off. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final excursion into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling realm he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose geography aligns with that of our world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the individuals appear and think and act like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, essences in animal form; where the air are filled with witches and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, vehicles are caught and beverages is consumed, and older scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a child in the first trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in the prequel, the origin story with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the sharp and determined main character of the earlier books, but aged, melancholic, more careful, less certain. This limitation is intensified by her split from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
His choice to leave in pursuit of that childlike part of her which she may have forgotten (an trait which he symbolizes as her "creativity"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the driving forces of the prior book, which saw the protagonist undertake a wandering voyage across the continent and into the Caucasus, meeting with amazement and risk on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in play, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the religious controlling power, and the author's brilliantly sinister representation of austere, administrative evil – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's relative, who faults her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of president of the Magisterium's High Council, and is determined on using his fresh influence to extend the institution's dominium. Another protagonist, who saved baby Lyra to refuge along a flooded river as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a sideline in spycraft: he is assigned to the city to discover more about his aims. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and precious essential oil which appears mysteriously to be the cause of a social and economic disturbance emanating out from Central Asia. The oil is regarded by various factions as a commercial commodity, by others as a empirical or esoteric phenomenon, and by others still – the extremist "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of evil; an insult that must be obliterated. The issue of its source, its significance, and if it should be removed or protected is escalating in importance.
Like the first series, our protagonist's decisions, and her fate, are shown to be inseparably entwined with the future of the realm
In the previous volume, these narratives ran broadly in side by side. In this final book, they come together. As in His Dark Materials, her choices and her path are unveiled to be inseparably woven with the fate of the realm. Her personal journey to reconnect with her soul and rediscover her vision becomes the primary struggle in a larger conflict with an controlling government which, as such authorities typically do, is striving to stifle freedom of thought, creativity and expression: all the inner, defiant ways in which people can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The novel starts with the discovery of a series of strange openings in the structure of the Earth's air: gateways that appear to lead to different dimensions. A particular portal seems to be the source of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The church, with Delamare at its head, designates these openings as a challenge to the church's beliefs and sets out to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to shift from rigid rationalism and revert to instinct, yet, her belief that these locations must be defended – that their significance and their value is in some way essential – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or whatever we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a Blakean tussle between purity and knowledge is set.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
