Tings are collapsing in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a universe that seems, now more than ever, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or restructuring themselves along new and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from states, and pooling in the halls of religious leaders, the vaults of corporations, the grasp of mobs. "Something is at work, very quietly, imperceptibly", says businessman a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were stable and strong are faltering and giving way."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that drives The Rose Field, which continues where its predecessor concluded. This is, according to many, the author's last excursion into the elaborately built, deeply captivating universe he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose landscape aligns with that of the real world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the individuals appear and reason and behave like us, but are joined by daemons, souls in creature form; where the air are teeming with witches and legendary creatures, but below, transports are ridden and tea is sipped, and middle-aged professors carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first encountered as a child in the first trilogy, and then saw again as a baby in the first volume, the prequel with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the prickly and determined heroine of the prior volumes, but older, melancholic, more cautious, less certain. This limitation is intensified by her split from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to go off in pursuit of that childlike part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which saw the protagonist undertake a wandering journey across Europe and into the Caucasus, facing with marvel and danger on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the religious controlling power, and Pullman's masterfully eerie incarnation of strict, procedural malice – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – our protagonist's uncle, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the position of head of the Magisterium's governing body, and is intent on using his newfound authority to expand the religion's dominium. Another protagonist, who rescued baby Lyra to refuge along a flooded river as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an academic with a additional duty in spycraft: he is dispatched to Geneva to find out more about the antagonist's intentions. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and costly essential oil which manifests in some way to be the cause of a societal and economic disturbance emanating out from the region. The extract is viewed by some as a commercial commodity, by others as a empirical or esoteric wonder, and by yet others – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a origin of malevolence; an challenge that must be eradicated. The issue of its origins, its meaning, and if it should be removed or protected is becoming urgent.
As in His Dark Materials, the heroine's decisions, and her fate, are revealed to be inextricably connected with the destiny of the world
In the previous volume, these narratives ran mostly in side by side. In this final book, they converge. Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's choices and her destiny are unveiled to be inseparably woven with the future of the world. Her personal quest to rejoin with her soul and rediscover her vision becomes the primary battleground in a broader conflict with an authoritarian system which, as such authorities typically do, is striving to stifle autonomy of reason, innovation and culture: all the inner, rebellious ways in which humans can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The story opens with the unveiling of a series of unusual fissures in the structure of the Earth's sky: gateways that appear to open into other worlds. An example of a portal appears to be the origin of the fiercely disputed mystical extract. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its leadership, labels these openings as a threat to the institution's orthodoxy and endeavors to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to move from strict logic and return to intuition, nevertheless, her belief that these places must be defended – that their meaning and what they offer is mysteriously essential – increases. "The substance, or the extract, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a poetic conflict between naivety and experience is prepared.
Story Tempo and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
