Things are collapsing in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that appears, now more than ever, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Establishments are failing, or reassembling themselves along novel and troubling lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from governments, and accumulating in the halls of religious leaders, the treasuries of corporations, the grasp of mobs. "Some force is at work, very quietly, gradually", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his post in an city cafe. "Things we thought were firm and strong are weakening and collapsing."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that propels The Rose Field, which resumes where the previous book concluded. This is, according to many, Pullman's final foray into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating universe he first unveiled in the distant past, with the publication of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose geography corresponds to that of our world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the people look and reason and act like us, but are accompanied by daemons, souls in animal form; where the heavens are teeming with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, vehicles are caught and drinks is drunk, and older academics carry luxury shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first met as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still clearly the sharp and persistent main character of the prior volumes, but older, melancholic, warier, less certain. This circumscription is intensified by her division from her animal guide, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to leave in pursuit of that youthful part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an trait which he represents as her "creativity"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a wandering trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, meeting with marvel and risk on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in play, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the religious governing authority, and the author's deliciously chilling embodiment of rigid, administrative wickedness – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – our protagonist's uncle, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of president of the church's High Council, and is determined on using his newfound influence to extend the church's dominium. Another protagonist, who rescued infant Lyra to safety along a flooded river as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in intelligence work: he is assigned to a key location to find out more about his aims. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and valuable rose oil which seems mysteriously to be the origin of a social and financial upheaval spreading out from Central Asia. The oil is regarded by various factions as a tradeable product, by others as a scientific or mystical wonder, and by further factions – the zealous "highland figures" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an challenge that must be destroyed. The question of its origins, its meaning, and if it should be removed or preserved is becoming urgent.
Like His Dark Materials, our protagonist's decisions, and her fate, are demonstrated to be inextricably linked with the destiny of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran mostly in tandem. In this final book, they merge. As in His Dark Materials, her choices and her fate are shown to be deeply linked with the fate of the world. Her personal quest to reconnect with her soul and regain her creativity becomes the primary conflict in a wider battle with an authoritarian regime which, as such authorities always have, is attempting to quell freedom of thinking, innovation and culture: all the inner, resistant ways in which people can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The novel begins with the unveiling of a series of curious cracks in the structure of the world's sky: windows that seem to give on to different dimensions. One such portal seems to be the point of the highly contested botanical substance. The church, with the antagonist at its leadership, labels these windows as a threat to the institution's doctrine and endeavors to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to move from strict rationalism and revert to feeling, yet, her conviction that these places must be preserved – that what they stand for and what they offer is somehow essential – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or whatever we label it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a Blakean tussle between naivety and experience is set.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
