Tings are collapsing in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a universe that appears, now more than ever, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along new and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is draining from states, and pooling in the offices of theocrats, the vaults of conglomerates, the grasp of mobs. "Some force is at work, stealthily, gradually", says merchant a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and solid are weakening and failing."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that animates The Rose Field, which picks up where its predecessor concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's last foray into the elaborately built, infinitely beguiling realm he first introduced in the distant past, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose terrain aligns with that of this world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the humans look and think and behave like us, but are joined by external spirits, souls in animal form; where the heavens are filled with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but underneath, transports are caught and tea is drunk, and older scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first met as a child in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in the first volume, the prequel with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still recognisably the spiky and persistent protagonist of the previous installments, but older, sadder, more careful, less sure. This circumscription is heightened by her split from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to depart in quest of that innocent part of her which she appears to have shed (an quality which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which followed the protagonist undertake a picaresque journey across the continent and into the Caucasus, meeting with amazement and risk on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in play, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the faith's ruling body, and Pullman's masterfully eerie embodiment of austere, bureaucratic wickedness – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – Lyra's relative, who blames her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the position of president of the Magisterium's High Council, and is intent on using his fresh authority to expand the church's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued young the heroine to safety along a swollen Thames as an young boy in the prequel, is now an academic with a sideline in espionage: he is sent to Geneva to learn more about Delamare's aims. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and precious essential oil which manifests in some way to be the origin of a societal and economic disturbance rippling out from Central Asia. The oil is regarded by certain groups as a marketable good, by different parties as a scientific or mystical wonder, and by yet others – the extremist "mountain dwellers" – as a wellspring of evil; an challenge that must be destroyed. The dilemma of its origins, its significance, and if it should be destroyed or protected is becoming urgent.
Like His Dark Materials, the heroine's deeds, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be inseparably linked with the future of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran mostly in tandem. In The Rose Field, they converge. As in the original series, the protagonist's actions and her path are revealed to be inseparably entwined with the fate of the world. Her individual mission to reunite with her soul and recover her vision becomes the primary battleground in a larger battle with an oppressive system which, as these systems typically do, is attempting to quell freedom of thinking, creativity and culture: all the personal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The story starts with the unveiling of a series of strange cracks in the makeup of the Earth's sky: gateways that look to open into alternate realities. A particular opening seems to be the point of the much debated botanical substance. The church, with the antagonist at its helm, classifies these portals as a problem to the church's doctrine and endeavors to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to move from rigid reason and revert to instinct, nevertheless, her conviction that these places must be protected – that what they stand for and their value is somehow vital – strengthens. "Dust, or the extract, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a Blakean struggle between naivety and maturity is prepared.
Story Tempo and Personal Evolution
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
