Things are falling apart in the last installment of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a world that appears, now more than ever, as a intense and slanted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from authorities, and pooling in the offices of theocrats, the treasuries of corporations, the hands of mobs. "Some force is at work, very quietly, gradually", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his place in an city cafe. "Things we thought were firm and solid are weakening and collapsing."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that drives the concluding book, which picks up where the previous book left off. This is, according to many, the author's last venture into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating world he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose landscape corresponds to that of our world, but whose past 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 heavens are teeming with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but underneath, vehicles are caught and tea is consumed, and middle-aged professors carry luxury shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first encountered as a child in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the prequel, the prequel with which the author began the series, is now a adult: still recognisably the spiky and determined protagonist of the earlier books, but aged, melancholic, more careful, more doubtful. This restraint is heightened by her split from her daemon, her daemon – 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 pursuit of that youthful part of the heroine which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he represents as her "vision"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which saw Lyra undertake a adventurous journey across Europe and into the Caucasus, facing with amazement and danger on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the faith's ruling body, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister representation of strict, procedural malice – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's relative, who faults her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the office of leader of the church's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his recently acquired authority to expand the institution's control. Another protagonist, who carried infant the heroine to refuge along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an academic with a sideline in espionage: he is dispatched to the city to discover more about his aims. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and precious rose oil which seems somehow to be the origin of a social and financial upheaval spreading out from Central Asia. The substance is seen by various factions as a tradeable product, by others as a empirical or spiritual miracle, and by yet others – the extremist "highland figures" – as a source of malevolence; an insult that must be eradicated. The question of its source, its significance, and if it should be eliminated or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
Similar to the original trilogy, our protagonist's decisions, and her fate, are shown to be inseparably entwined with the fate of the realm
In its predecessor, these plots ran mostly in parallel. In The Rose Field, they merge. Similar to the original series, the protagonist's movements and her destiny are shown to be inextricably entwined with the future of the universe. Her personal quest to rejoin with her soul and rediscover her imagination becomes the key conflict in a wider conflict with an authoritarian government which, as such authorities often attempt, is striving to quell freedom of thought, creativity and art: all the personal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The book begins with the finding of a collection of unusual openings in the fabric of the planet's air: gateways that seem to open into different dimensions. An example of a opening appears to be the source of the highly contested rose oil. The authority, with its leader at its helm, labels these windows as a challenge to the church's orthodoxy and endeavors to destroy them. As Lyra begins to shift from strict logic and revert to intuition, however, her certainty that these locations must be defended – that their significance and what they provide is somehow crucial – grows. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a Blakean conflict between naivety and knowledge is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
