Tings are unraveling in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a world that seems, here more than ever, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Establishments are failing, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is flowing away from governments, and gathering in the halls of theocrats, the treasuries of corporations, the hands of crowds. "Something is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and solid are weakening and giving way."
The Central Mystery and The Protagonist's Path
Just what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that propels this final volume, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, according to many, the author's concluding venture into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating universe he first unveiled three decades past, with the publication of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose terrain corresponds to that of this world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the humans appear and reason and act like us, but are accompanied by daemons, beings in beast form; where the skies are teeming with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but underneath, buses are ridden and tea is sipped, and mature scholars carry luxury shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first encountered as a child in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in the first volume, the prequel with which Pullman began the series, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the sharp and determined protagonist of the previous installments, but more mature, more sorrowful, warier, more doubtful. This limitation is amplified by her separation from her animal guide, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the cause which made him desert her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to depart in search of that innocent part of her which she may have forgotten (an trait which he represents as her "vision"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a picaresque journey across Europe and into the mountain region, meeting with wonder and danger on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in play, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the religious ruling body, and the author's masterfully eerie embodiment of rigid, procedural wickedness – is under new leadership, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's relative, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the position of president of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his newfound power to broaden the church's control. A key character, who saved infant the heroine to security along a overflowing river as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a additional duty in spycraft: he is assigned to Geneva to discover more about Delamare's plans. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and costly botanical extract which seems mysteriously to be the origin of a social and financial crisis rippling out from Central Asia. The substance is seen by various factions as a tradeable product, by others as a scientific or esoteric wonder, and by yet others – the zealous "highland figures" – as a source of darkness; an affront that must be destroyed. The dilemma of its source, its meaning, and whether it should be eliminated or safeguarded is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in His Dark Materials, the heroine's actions, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be deeply linked with the fate of the world
In the previous volume, these narratives ran broadly in parallel. In The Rose Field, they converge. Similar to His Dark Materials, her movements and her destiny are unveiled to be deeply entwined with the fate of the realm. Her private journey to reunite with her daemon and rediscover her creativity becomes the central battleground in a wider battle with an oppressive system which, as these systems typically do, is striving to stifle autonomy of thinking, originality and art: all the internal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be free.
Dimensional Rifts and Ideological Conflicts
The novel opens with the unveiling of a set of strange openings in the makeup of the planet's sky: windows that appear to lead to alternate realities. An example of a opening seems to be the point of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The Magisterium, with its leader at its leadership, designates these windows as a threat to the religion's doctrine and aims to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to turn away from strict logic and return to feeling, however, her certainty that these places must be preserved – that what they stand for and their value is somehow crucial – increases. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we require it." The scene for a Blakean tussle between innocence and experience is set.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
