Things are collapsing in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a universe that seems, in this volume especially, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or restructuring themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from states, and gathering in the offices of religious leaders, the vaults of corporations, the grasp of crowds. "Some force is at work, stealthily, very subtly", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his seat in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and solid are faltering and failing."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that animates The Rose Field, which continues where the previous book concluded. This is, according to many, Pullman's concluding excursion into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling universe he first revealed 30 years ago, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose geography aligns with that of our world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and think and act like us, but are joined by daemons, essences in creature form; where the heavens are filled with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, buses are taken and tea is drunk, and middle-aged scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the first volume, the origin story with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still clearly the sharp and tenacious heroine of the earlier books, but older, sadder, warier, more doubtful. This circumscription is intensified by her separation from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which made him desert her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
His choice to leave in search of that youthful part of her which she may have forgotten (an quality which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which saw the protagonist undertake a adventurous trek across Europe and into the Caucasus, encountering with wonder and risk on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in play, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the religious governing authority, and Pullman's deliciously chilling representation of rigid, administrative malice – is under new leadership, and asserting its power. The antagonist – our protagonist's relative, who faults her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the position of leader of the authority's ruling assembly, and is set on using his recently acquired influence to extend the religion's control. Another protagonist, who carried infant the heroine to security along a overflowing Thames as an child in La Belle Sauvage, is now an university scholar with a sideline in espionage: he is assigned to Geneva to find out more about his plans. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the rare and valuable rose oil which seems in some way to be the cause of a social and financial upheaval spreading out from Central Asia. The oil is seen by certain groups as a tradeable good, by alternate groups as a empirical or esoteric miracle, and by further factions – the extremist "highland figures" – as a origin of evil; an affront that must be obliterated. The dilemma of where it comes from, what it stands for, and if it should be eliminated or preserved is escalating in importance.
Like the original trilogy, the heroine's deeds, and her destiny, are shown to be deeply entwined with the fate of the universe
In its predecessor, these plots ran largely in side by side. In The Rose Field, they converge. Like the first trilogy, Lyra's actions and her destiny are revealed to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the world. Her private quest to reconnect with her soul and regain her imagination becomes the primary conflict in a larger conflict with an controlling government which, as such authorities often attempt, is seeking to quell autonomy of reason, creativity and expression: all the internal, resistant ways in which individuals can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The story starts with the unveiling of a series of unusual fissures in the makeup of the Earth's sky: windows that look to give on to other worlds. An example of a portal manifests to be the source of the much debated botanical substance. The authority, with its leader at its leadership, classifies these openings as a threat to the institution's orthodoxy and endeavors to destroy them. As the heroine begins to shift from strict logic and return to instinct, however, her conviction that these locations must be protected – that their significance and what they offer is in some way essential – increases. "Dust, or the substance, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or whatever we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a poetic tussle between innocence and maturity is set.
Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
