Tings are unraveling in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a universe that manifests, in this volume especially, as a charged and slanted version of our own. Organizations are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Control is draining from states, and accumulating in the chambers of religious leaders, the treasuries of business empires, the control of mobs. "Some force is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his seat in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and solid are deteriorating and collapsing."
The Central Mystery and The Protagonist's Path
Just what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that propels this final volume, which picks up where the previous book left off. This is, reportedly, the author's last excursion into the elaborately built, endlessly enchanting world he first revealed 30 years ago, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a world whose terrain maps on to that of the real world, but whose chronicles diverges and shifts with ours; where the humans look and think and act like us, but are joined by external spirits, souls in animal form; where the heavens are teeming with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but underneath, transports are taken and drinks is drunk, and middle-aged professors carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a child in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in the first volume, the introductory book with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still distinctly the prickly and persistent heroine of the prior volumes, but aged, more sorrowful, more cautious, less sure. This restraint is amplified by her separation from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which made him desert her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
The daemon's resolve to go off in search of that childlike part of the heroine which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he represents as her "imagination"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a adventurous trek across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with marvel and danger on the way. But from the beginning, deeper currents were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the religious controlling power, and Pullman's deliciously chilling representation of rigid, procedural malice – is under new leadership, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's relative, who faults her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the role of president of the Magisterium's governing body, and is set on using his fresh influence to expand the church's control. Another protagonist, who saved baby Lyra to refuge along a flooded Thames as an child in the first book, is now an university scholar with a sideline in spycraft: he is assigned to Geneva to discover more about Delamare's intentions. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and precious essential oil which manifests mysteriously to be the source of a social and financial crisis rippling out from the region. The substance is seen by various factions as a tradeable good, by alternate groups as a empirical or mystical miracle, and by others still – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a wellspring of evil; an affront that must be obliterated. The issue of where it comes from, its significance, and whether it should be eliminated or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
Like His Dark Materials, Lyra's decisions, and her destiny, are shown to be inextricably linked with the fate of the world
In its predecessor, these storylines ran mostly in parallel. In the conclusion, they merge. Like His Dark Materials, the protagonist's actions and her fate are shown to be inseparably linked with the destiny of the universe. Her personal journey to reconnect with her soul and recover her creativity becomes the key battleground in a broader battle with an authoritarian government which, as these systems always have, is striving to stifle independence of thought, innovation and expression: all the personal, rebellious ways in which humans can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Moral Battles
The story begins with the unveiling of a set of strange fissures in the fabric of the Earth's atmosphere: windows that appear to lead to alternate realities. A particular portal appears to be the origin of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its leadership, designates these portals as a problem to the institution's doctrine and aims to destroy them. As Lyra begins to move from strict reason and revert to intuition, however, her certainty that these locations must be defended – that their meaning and what they provide is in some way essential – increases. "Dust, or the substance, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or whatever we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a philosophical tussle between purity and experience is set.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
