Tings are collapsing in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a world that manifests, here more than ever, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Organizations are failing, or reassembling themselves along novel and troubling lines. An invisible force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from authorities, and gathering in the offices of religious leaders, the treasuries of conglomerates, the control of rioters. "An element is at work, very quietly, imperceptibly", says businessman a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were secure and durable are deteriorating and failing."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Exactly what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that animates The Rose Field, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, according to many, the author's last foray into the elaborately built, deeply captivating realm he first unveiled three decades past, with the launch of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose geography maps on to that of our world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the people appear and reason and act like us, but are joined by external spirits, essences in beast form; where the skies are teeming with enchantresses and gryphons, but beneath those skies, vehicles are taken and tea is consumed, and older scholars carry fancy shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first met as a young girl in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in the first volume, the origin story with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still clearly the prickly and determined heroine of the prior volumes, but older, melancholic, warier, more doubtful. This restraint is intensified by her division from her daemon, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the cause which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
His choice to leave in search of that innocent part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled Lyra undertake a wandering journey across Europe and into the mountain region, meeting with marvel and peril on the way. But from the beginning, profound shifts were in play, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the religious ruling body, and the author's masterfully eerie representation of rigid, bureaucratic wickedness – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's relative, who blames her for his sibling's death – has worked himself into the role of president of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his fresh influence to extend the religion's dominium. Another protagonist, who rescued young Lyra to safety along a swollen Thames as an young boy in the first book, is now an university scholar with a sideline in espionage: he is sent to Geneva to find out more about his intentions. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the uncommon and precious botanical extract which seems mysteriously to be the origin of a societal and financial crisis spreading out from Central Asia. The extract is viewed by various factions as a marketable product, by different parties as a empirical or spiritual miracle, and by further factions – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a origin of darkness; an challenge that must be obliterated. The issue of its origins, its meaning, and if it should be eliminated or preserved is escalating in importance.
As in the first series, our protagonist's actions, and her future, are shown to be deeply connected with the destiny of the realm
In its predecessor, these plots ran largely in side by side. In this final book, they converge. As in His Dark Materials, Lyra's choices and her fate are revealed to be inseparably linked with the fate of the universe. Her private journey to reconnect with her soul and regain her vision becomes the central battleground in a wider battle with an authoritarian government which, as these systems often attempt, is attempting to stifle autonomy of thinking, creativity and art: all the inner, defiant ways in which people can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Moral Battles
The story begins with the discovery of a series of unusual cracks in the fabric of the world's atmosphere: windows that look to give on to other worlds. One such portal manifests to be the origin of the highly contested botanical substance. The Magisterium, with its leader at its head, designates these windows as a threat to the institution's doctrine and endeavors to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to turn away from strict logic and revert to feeling, nevertheless, her belief that these locations must be defended – that what they stand for and what they offer is mysteriously vital – grows. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or whatever we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a philosophical conflict between innocence and experience is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
