Things are collapsing in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of the author's masterful trilogies set in a world that appears, now more than ever, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Control is draining from authorities, and gathering in the offices of religious leaders, the treasuries of conglomerates, the control of crowds. "Something is at work, silently, very subtly", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were secure and durable are deteriorating and giving way."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that drives this final volume, which continues where its predecessor left off. This is, according to many, the author's final excursion into the elaborately built, deeply captivating universe he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the publication of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose terrain maps on to that of the real world, but whose past diverges and shifts with ours; where the individuals look and reason and behave like us, but are paired by daemons, souls in animal form; where the skies are populated with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but underneath, buses are taken and tea is sipped, and mature scholars carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the first volume, the introductory book with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still clearly the prickly and determined heroine of the previous installments, but more mature, sadder, warier, less certain. This restraint is intensified by her split from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
The daemon's resolve to depart in pursuit of that childlike part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an trait which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her journey to reunite with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw Lyra undertake a picaresque trek across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with amazement and risk on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in play, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the church's ruling body, and Pullman's masterfully eerie representation of rigid, bureaucratic evil – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – the heroine's relative, who faults her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the office of head of the church's governing body, and is intent on using his newfound authority to expand the religion's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who saved infant the heroine to safety along a overflowing river as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an university scholar with a sideline in intelligence work: he is dispatched to Geneva to discover more about the antagonist's plans. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and costly rose oil which appears in some way to be the cause of a social and financial disturbance rippling out from that area. The substance is regarded by certain groups as a marketable commodity, by others as a scientific or spiritual phenomenon, and by others still – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a source of malevolence; an challenge that must be eradicated. The issue of where it comes from, what it stands for, and whether it should be destroyed or protected is becoming urgent.
Like the original trilogy, our protagonist's deeds, and her fate, are shown to be inextricably linked with the future of the world
In its predecessor, these narratives ran broadly in parallel. In the conclusion, they come together. As in His Dark Materials, Lyra's actions and her destiny are unveiled to be deeply entwined with the fate of the universe. Her private quest to rejoin with her daemon and recover her vision becomes the primary conflict in a broader battle with an authoritarian regime which, as these systems often attempt, is striving to quell independence of thought, innovation and culture: all the inner, defiant ways in which humans can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The novel opens with the unveiling of a set of strange openings in the makeup of the planet's atmosphere: portals that appear to open into alternate realities. A particular window seems to be the origin of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The Magisterium, with its leader at its head, labels these portals as a problem to the religion's doctrine and sets out to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to move from inflexible logic and return to feeling, however, her certainty that these sites must be defended – that what they stand for and what they provide is somehow essential – strengthens. "The substance, or the extract, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a poetic conflict between innocence and knowledge is set.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
