Tings are falling apart in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the second of the author's masterful trilogies set in a universe that appears, now more than ever, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Power is flowing away from states, and pooling in the chambers of religious leaders, the vaults of corporations, the control of mobs. "An element is at work, stealthily, gradually", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his post in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and durable are faltering and giving way."
Core Enigma and The Protagonist's Path
Just what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that animates The Rose Field, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's last foray into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating realm he first unveiled in the distant past, with the publication of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose terrain corresponds to that of the real world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the humans appear and reason and act like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, essences in creature form; where the heavens are filled with enchantresses and gryphons, but beneath those skies, vehicles are caught and tea is drunk, and older academics carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in the prequel, the prequel with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still recognisably the spiky and tenacious protagonist of the prior volumes, but more mature, sadder, warier, more doubtful. This circumscription is amplified by her division from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the cause which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to leave in pursuit of that innocent part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an trait which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of the prior book, which saw Lyra undertake a adventurous trek across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with marvel and risk on the way. But from the beginning, deeper currents were in play, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the religious controlling power, and Pullman's masterfully eerie representation of austere, bureaucratic malice – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's uncle, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the role of president of the authority's governing body, and is set on using his fresh power to extend the institution's control. Another protagonist, who carried young Lyra to safety along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a secondary role in espionage: he is dispatched to the city to learn more about Delamare's aims. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and precious essential oil which appears in some way to be the cause of a societal and financial crisis rippling out from that area. The extract is regarded by some as a commercial good, by alternate groups as a scientific or esoteric wonder, and by further factions – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a origin of evil; an affront that must be destroyed. The dilemma of where it comes from, what it stands for, and if it should be eliminated or protected is escalating in importance.
Similar to His Dark Materials, our protagonist's actions, and her destiny, are shown to be inseparably entwined with the fate of the realm
In its predecessor, these storylines ran largely in tandem. In this final book, they merge. Similar to the original series, Lyra's actions and her fate are unveiled to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the realm. Her private quest to reconnect with her daemon and regain her creativity becomes the primary struggle in a larger conflict with an controlling government which, as such regimes always have, is striving to quell freedom of thought, creativity and culture: all the internal, rebellious ways in which people can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The novel starts with the discovery of a collection of unusual cracks in the fabric of the planet's sky: windows that look to open into alternate realities. One such portal seems to be the source of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its leadership, designates these portals as a threat to the religion's beliefs and endeavors to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to shift from strict reason and revert to feeling, nevertheless, her belief that these places must be preserved – that their meaning and what they offer is somehow vital – strengthens. "The substance, or the extract, or the imagination, or the field of roses, or whatever we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a Blakean tussle between purity and experience is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
