Things are falling apart in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that manifests, now more than ever, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Organizations are failing, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from states, and pooling in the chambers of theocrats, the treasuries of business empires, the grasp of crowds. "An element is at work, silently, gradually", says businessman a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the Silk Roads from his post in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and strong are faltering and giving way."
Core Enigma and The Protagonist's Path
Exactly what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that drives this final volume, which continues where the previous book left off. This is, according to many, the author's last excursion into the elaborately built, endlessly enchanting realm he first introduced three decades past, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose geography aligns with that of our world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the people look and think and act like us, but are joined by external spirits, beings in creature form; where the heavens are filled with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but underneath, vehicles are caught and drinks is consumed, and middle-aged professors carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first encountered as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the prequel, the introductory book with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a young woman: still clearly the spiky and determined heroine of the prior volumes, but more mature, more sorrowful, warier, more doubtful. This restraint is amplified by her separation from her animal guide, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the cause which made him desert her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
His choice to leave in quest of that innocent part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an quality which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which followed Lyra undertake a picaresque trek across Europe and into the Caucasus, facing with marvel and danger on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in action, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the faith's ruling body, and Pullman's masterfully eerie embodiment of strict, bureaucratic wickedness – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. The antagonist – the heroine's uncle, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of leader of the Magisterium's High Council, and is set on using his newfound authority to expand the institution's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued infant the heroine to refuge along a swollen Thames as an young boy in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a secondary role in espionage: he is sent to the city to discover more about the antagonist's intentions. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and valuable essential oil which appears somehow to be the source of a social and financial crisis rippling out from that area. The extract is seen by some as a commercial commodity, by different parties as a research-based or esoteric wonder, and by yet others – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a origin of malevolence; an insult that must be eradicated. The dilemma of its source, its meaning, and whether it should be removed or preserved is becoming urgent.
Similar to the first series, the heroine's deeds, and her fate, are shown to be inseparably linked with the future of the world
In its predecessor, these storylines ran mostly in tandem. In the conclusion, they come together. As in the first trilogy, her choices and her fate are revealed to be inseparably woven with the future of the universe. Her personal quest to reunite with her companion and recover her creativity becomes the central conflict in a wider battle with an oppressive government which, as such regimes often attempt, is seeking to stifle independence of thought, creativity and culture: all the personal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The novel begins with the finding of a collection of curious cracks in the makeup of the Earth's sky: windows that seem to give on to other worlds. One such portal seems to be the origin of the highly contested botanical substance. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its leadership, labels these portals as a challenge to the religion's doctrine and sets out to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to turn away from rigid logic and revert to feeling, yet, her belief that these places must be defended – that what they stand for and what they offer is in some way crucial – increases. "Dust, or the substance, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or no matter what we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a philosophical tussle between purity and knowledge is set.
Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
