Things are falling apart in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a realm that seems, now more than ever, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An invisible force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from authorities, and pooling in the halls of religious leaders, the coffers of conglomerates, the grasp of rioters. "An element is at work, silently, very subtly", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his place in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and solid are weakening and giving way."
Key Puzzle and Her Quest
Just what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the question that propels this final volume, which continues where its predecessor concluded. This is, reportedly, the author's final excursion into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting world he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the launch of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose landscape maps on to that of this world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the people appear and reason and act like us, but are paired by external spirits, beings in beast form; where the skies are teeming with witches and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, vehicles are taken and tea is sipped, and mature scholars carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a baby in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a young woman: still clearly the prickly and tenacious main character of the earlier books, but older, more sorrowful, more careful, less certain. This restraint is intensified by her division from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to leave in quest of that childlike part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an quality which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her journey to reunite with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw Lyra undertake a adventurous journey across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with marvel and peril on the way. But from the beginning, deeper currents were in motion, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the faith's controlling power, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of rigid, administrative malice – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. The antagonist – the heroine's uncle, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the office of head of the church's governing body, and is set on using his recently acquired power to broaden the church's control. Another protagonist, who rescued infant the heroine to safety along a overflowing river as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an academic with a sideline in espionage: he is assigned to a key location to discover more about the antagonist's plans. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and valuable rose oil which seems mysteriously to be the origin of a societal and economic disturbance emanating out from the region. The substance is seen by certain groups as a tradeable commodity, by others as a scientific or esoteric miracle, and by yet others – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a wellspring of evil; an insult that must be obliterated. The issue of where it comes from, its significance, and if it should be destroyed or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
Similar to His Dark Materials, our protagonist's decisions, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be inseparably connected with the future of the world
In its predecessor, these plots ran broadly in side by side. In the conclusion, they merge. Similar to His Dark Materials, the protagonist's choices and her path are unveiled to be deeply woven with the fate of the world. Her private quest to reconnect with her companion and regain her imagination becomes the primary struggle in a broader war with an oppressive system which, as such regimes always have, is attempting to quell autonomy of thinking, innovation and expression: all the personal, resistant ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Moral Battles
The novel opens with the discovery of a set of strange fissures in the makeup of the planet's sky: gateways that appear to give on to alternate realities. A particular opening seems to be the origin of the highly contested mystical extract. The Magisterium, with its leader at its head, designates these openings as a threat to the institution's orthodoxy and aims to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to turn away from strict logic and back to instinct, yet, her belief that these places must be preserved – that their meaning and what they offer is in some way vital – increases. "Dust, or rose oil, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or whatever we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a poetic struggle between naivety and experience is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
