Tings are falling apart in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a world that manifests, in this volume especially, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from authorities, and pooling in the offices of theocrats, the vaults of conglomerates, the control of crowds. "An element is at work, stealthily, gradually", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and durable are weakening and failing."
The Central Mystery and Her Quest
Precisely what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that animates The Rose Field, which resumes where the previous book concluded. This is, reportedly, the author's last venture into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting world he first unveiled three decades past, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose landscape corresponds to that of the real world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the humans appear and think and behave like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, souls in beast form; where the skies are filled with witches and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, vehicles are taken and drinks is drunk, and older professors carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a baby in the first volume, the introductory book with which Pullman began the series, is now a adult: still recognisably the sharp and tenacious protagonist of the earlier books, but aged, melancholic, warier, less sure. This restraint is amplified by her division from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the cause which led him to leave her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
The daemon's resolve to go off in quest of that childlike part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an quality which he represents as her "creativity"), and her journey to reunite with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which chronicled Lyra undertake a picaresque trek across the continent and into the mountain region, meeting with marvel and danger on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in play, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the religious controlling power, and the author's masterfully eerie embodiment of strict, administrative malice – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's uncle, who faults her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the office of president of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his newfound power to extend the institution's dominium. Another protagonist, who saved baby the heroine to refuge along a flooded Thames as an child in the prequel, is now an academic with a sideline in espionage: he is assigned to Geneva to find out more about his aims. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and precious botanical extract which appears somehow to be the cause of a societal and economic crisis spreading out from Central Asia. The substance is seen by certain groups as a marketable commodity, by others as a empirical or esoteric wonder, and by yet others – the zealous "highland figures" – as a origin of evil; an insult that must be eradicated. The issue of its source, its significance, and whether it should be removed or protected is escalating in importance.
As in His Dark Materials, Lyra's actions, and her fate, are revealed to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the realm
In its predecessor, these plots ran mostly in parallel. In the conclusion, they merge. Similar to the original series, the protagonist's choices and her fate are shown to be inextricably woven with the fate of the world. Her personal mission to rejoin with her daemon and regain her creativity becomes the key struggle in a broader battle with an oppressive government which, as such authorities often attempt, is attempting to suppress freedom of thinking, innovation and culture: all the inner, defiant ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The book begins with the finding of a set of unusual fissures in the fabric of the world's sky: gateways that appear to open into different dimensions. A particular portal manifests to be the origin of the much debated mystical extract. The church, with the antagonist at its helm, labels these openings as a challenge to the religion's beliefs and sets out to destroy them. As Lyra begins to shift from inflexible logic and back to intuition, however, her certainty that these places must be protected – that their meaning and their value is somehow essential – increases. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the vision, or the field of roses, or whatever we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a Blakean struggle between innocence and experience is prepared.
Story Tempo and Personal Evolution
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
