Tings are collapsing in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a universe that seems, in this volume especially, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along new and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from governments, and pooling in the chambers of religious leaders, the vaults of conglomerates, the grasp of crowds. "Something is at work, very quietly, gradually", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and strong are weakening and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Just what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that propels The Rose Field, which picks up where its predecessor ended. This is, according to many, Pullman's concluding venture into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling universe he first revealed three decades past, with the launch of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose geography aligns with that of our world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans appear and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by daemons, souls in beast form; where the skies are teeming with witches and gryphons, but below, buses are taken and beverages is consumed, and middle-aged scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in the prequel, the origin story with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still clearly the prickly and persistent protagonist of the earlier books, but more mature, sadder, more cautious, less sure. This circumscription is heightened by her division from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
His choice to go off in quest of that childlike part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an quality which he epitomises as her "vision"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which saw the protagonist undertake a picaresque trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, meeting with amazement and risk on the way. But from the outset, profound shifts were in motion, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the religious controlling power, and Pullman's masterfully eerie embodiment of strict, bureaucratic evil – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's uncle, who blames her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the position of leader of the authority's ruling assembly, and is set on using his fresh influence to expand the church's dominium. A key character, who saved young the heroine to refuge along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a secondary role in intelligence work: he is assigned to Geneva to find out more about his aims. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the rare and valuable rose oil which manifests mysteriously to be the origin of a societal and financial upheaval emanating out from the region. The oil is regarded by some as a commercial product, by others as a research-based or esoteric phenomenon, and by further factions – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a origin of darkness; an challenge that must be destroyed. The dilemma of its source, its significance, and whether it should be removed or safeguarded is coming rapidly to the fore.
Similar to the original trilogy, Lyra's decisions, and her future, are revealed to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the world
In the previous volume, these narratives ran mostly in parallel. In the conclusion, they come together. Like the original series, her actions and her fate are shown to be inextricably linked with the fate of the universe. Her private mission to reconnect with her daemon and recover her imagination becomes the key conflict in a broader war with an controlling government which, as such regimes typically do, is striving to stifle autonomy of reason, creativity and art: all the internal, resistant ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The story begins with the unveiling of a series of curious openings in the makeup of the world's atmosphere: windows that look to open into alternate realities. An example of a portal appears to be the origin of the much debated mystical extract. The church, with Delamare at its leadership, classifies these windows as a challenge to the church's orthodoxy and aims to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to shift from inflexible rationalism and return to feeling, nevertheless, her belief that these sites must be defended – that what they stand for and their value is mysteriously crucial – strengthens. "The substance, or the extract, or the vision, or the field of roses, or whatever we call it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a poetic conflict between innocence and knowledge is established.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
