Tings are unraveling in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the second of the author's masterful trilogies set in a world that manifests, here more than ever, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from governments, and pooling in the offices of religious leaders, the coffers of corporations, the hands of rioters. "An element is at work, silently, very subtly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and solid are deteriorating and giving way."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Just what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that drives The Rose Field, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, by all accounts, the author's concluding excursion into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting universe he first introduced in the distant past, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose geography corresponds to that of our world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the humans look and think and behave like us, but are joined by animal souls, essences in animal form; where the air are teeming with witches and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, transports are ridden and beverages is sipped, and mature scholars carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a child in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in the prequel, the introductory book with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a young woman: still distinctly the prickly and determined heroine of the prior volumes, but older, sadder, more cautious, less sure. This restraint is amplified by her split from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to go off in search of that innocent part of her which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he represents as her "vision"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which saw Lyra undertake a adventurous trek across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with amazement and risk on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the faith's governing authority, and the author's brilliantly sinister incarnation of strict, administrative evil – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's family member, who faults her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the office of president of the church's governing body, and is set on using his recently acquired authority to extend the religion's control. A key character, who saved infant Lyra to safety along a swollen Thames as an young boy in the first book, is now an university scholar with a sideline in spycraft: he is dispatched to Geneva to discover more about Delamare's intentions. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and costly essential oil which appears somehow to be the source of a social and economic crisis emanating out from that area. The extract is viewed by some as a marketable commodity, by others as a scientific or mystical miracle, and by others still – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a origin of malevolence; an insult that must be eradicated. The issue of its source, what it stands for, and whether it should be eliminated or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
As in His Dark Materials, the heroine's deeds, and her future, are revealed to be inextricably connected with the fate of the universe
In the previous volume, these narratives ran mostly in parallel. In this final book, they come together. Similar to the original series, the protagonist's actions and her path are revealed to be inseparably entwined with the fate of the realm. Her individual quest to rejoin with her companion and recover her vision becomes the key battleground in a broader war with an oppressive government which, as such authorities often attempt, is seeking to suppress independence of thinking, innovation and culture: all the personal, defiant ways in which humans can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The book starts with the unveiling of a collection of strange fissures in the structure of the planet's atmosphere: windows that look to lead to other worlds. An example of a portal seems to be the point of the highly contested rose oil. The authority, with its leader at its leadership, designates these windows as a challenge to the religion's beliefs and endeavors to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to turn away from rigid logic and return to instinct, nevertheless, her conviction that these locations must be defended – that what they stand for and what they offer is in some way crucial – increases. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or whatever we label it," she says, "we require it." The setting for a philosophical tussle between naivety and maturity is set.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
