Tings are falling apart in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a world that seems, now more than ever, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reassembling themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from states, and accumulating in the offices of theocrats, the vaults of corporations, the control of rioters. "Some force is at work, very quietly, imperceptibly", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and durable are weakening and giving way."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that something might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that propels The Rose Field, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, according to many, Pullman's final foray into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting universe he first introduced 30 years ago, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose terrain aligns with that of the real world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the individuals appear and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by daemons, essences in animal form; where the skies are teeming with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, buses are caught and tea is drunk, and mature scholars carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in La Belle Sauvage, the origin story with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still clearly the spiky and persistent heroine of the prior volumes, but more mature, sadder, warier, less sure. This circumscription is intensified by her split from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, ironically, the cause which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to depart in search of that childlike part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an quality which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw Lyra undertake a adventurous trek across Europe and into the mountain region, encountering with amazement and risk on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the faith's governing authority, and the author's brilliantly sinister incarnation of strict, procedural evil – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – our protagonist's relative, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the office of president of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is set on using his newfound influence to expand the religion's dominium. A key character, who rescued infant Lyra to safety along a swollen Thames as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a additional duty in espionage: he is assigned to the city to learn more about his plans. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and precious rose oil which seems in some way to be the origin of a social and financial crisis emanating out from that area. The extract is seen by some as a marketable product, by alternate groups as a research-based or spiritual miracle, and by yet others – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a source of evil; an insult that must be destroyed. The question of where it comes from, its significance, and whether it should be destroyed or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's decisions, and her fate, are revealed to be inseparably entwined with the destiny of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran broadly in side by side. In the conclusion, they come together. Similar to the original series, the protagonist's actions and her destiny are revealed to be inextricably entwined with the future of the universe. Her private journey to reconnect with her soul and rediscover her vision becomes the key battleground in a wider war with an oppressive system which, as such authorities often attempt, is attempting to quell independence of thinking, innovation and expression: all the personal, resistant ways in which humans can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles
The novel opens with the unveiling of a set of strange fissures in the makeup of the planet's air: gateways that seem to lead to different dimensions. A particular opening seems to be the source of the much debated mystical extract. The church, with its leader at its head, classifies these windows as a threat to the religion's orthodoxy and sets out to destroy them. As the heroine begins to turn away from strict reason and back to feeling, however, her belief that these sites must be protected – that their significance and their value is mysteriously vital – increases. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a Blakean conflict between naivety and experience is set.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
