Things are collapsing in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a universe that manifests, here more than ever, as a charged and slanted version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or restructuring themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is flowing away from states, and pooling in the halls of religious leaders, the coffers of business empires, the hands of rioters. "An element is at work, very quietly, gradually", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an city cafe. "Things we thought were firm and durable are weakening and giving way."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that propels the concluding book, which continues where its predecessor concluded. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's concluding foray into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating world he first revealed in the distant past, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose terrain corresponds to that of our world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the humans look and reason and behave like us, but are joined by animal souls, essences in animal form; where the air are filled with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but underneath, transports are taken and beverages is consumed, and older scholars carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a baby in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which the author began the series, is now a adult: still recognisably the sharp and determined heroine of the earlier books, but more mature, sadder, warier, more doubtful. This restraint is amplified by her split from her daemon, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
His choice to leave in quest of that childlike part of the heroine which she appears to have shed (an quality which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her mission to reunite with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which followed Lyra undertake a picaresque journey across the continent and into the mountain region, meeting with amazement and risk on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in motion, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the faith's governing authority, and Pullman's masterfully eerie embodiment of rigid, administrative wickedness – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. The antagonist – our protagonist's relative, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of head of the authority's governing body, and is set on using his fresh power to extend the religion's control. A key character, who saved infant the heroine to refuge along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an academic with a secondary role in spycraft: he is assigned to Geneva to learn more about the antagonist's intentions. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the uncommon and valuable rose oil which manifests in some way to be the cause of a societal and economic upheaval emanating out from Central Asia. The oil is seen by certain groups as a commercial product, by different parties as a research-based or spiritual wonder, and by yet others – the extremist "highland figures" – as a origin of darkness; an insult that must be obliterated. The question of its source, its significance, and if it should be eliminated or preserved is escalating in importance.
As in the first series, Lyra's decisions, and her future, are revealed to be inextricably entwined with the fate of the realm
In its predecessor, these plots ran largely in side by side. In the conclusion, they converge. Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's movements and her destiny are unveiled to be inseparably linked with the future of the world. Her private mission to reconnect with her soul and recover her vision becomes the central conflict in a larger battle with an authoritarian system which, as such authorities always have, is seeking to stifle independence of thought, originality and culture: all the internal, rebellious ways in which people can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Moral Battles
The novel opens with the finding of a collection of unusual cracks in the structure of the planet's atmosphere: portals that appear to give on to other worlds. A particular window seems to be the source of the highly contested rose oil. The church, with its leader at its leadership, classifies these openings as a challenge to the church's orthodoxy and sets out to eradicate them. As our protagonist begins to shift from inflexible reason and back to intuition, however, her conviction that these sites must be protected – that their significance and what they provide is mysteriously essential – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the imagination, or the field of roses, or whatever we label it," she says, "we require it." The setting for a philosophical conflict between purity and maturity is established.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
