Things are collapsing in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the second of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a world that seems, in this volume especially, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Organizations are failing, or restructuring themselves along new and troubling lines. An invisible force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from governments, and pooling in the halls of theocrats, the vaults of conglomerates, the control of mobs. "An element is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and solid are faltering and giving way."
Key Puzzle and Her Quest
Just what that something might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that drives The Rose Field, which continues where the previous book left off. This is, according to many, Pullman's concluding venture into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating world he first introduced in the distant past, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose geography aligns with that of our world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the humans appear and think and act like us, but are joined by animal souls, essences in animal form; where the heavens are filled with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but below, transports are ridden and beverages is drunk, and middle-aged academics carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a child in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a young woman: still recognisably the sharp and determined main character of the previous installments, but more mature, melancholic, warier, less certain. This restraint is intensified by her separation from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the cause which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to depart in search of that childlike part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which followed the protagonist undertake a picaresque journey across Europe and into the mountain region, encountering with marvel and risk on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in action, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the faith's governing authority, and Pullman's deliciously chilling representation of austere, procedural wickedness – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's uncle, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of head of the authority's High Council, and is intent on using his fresh influence to extend the religion's dominium. A key character, who saved infant the heroine to safety along a flooded river as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a sideline in intelligence work: he is dispatched to the city to find out more about the antagonist's plans. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the rare and costly botanical extract which seems mysteriously to be the source of a social and financial upheaval emanating out from the region. The oil is regarded by certain groups as a commercial good, by alternate groups as a empirical or esoteric miracle, and by yet others – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an insult that must be destroyed. The question of its origins, its meaning, and whether it should be destroyed or protected is coming rapidly to the fore.
Similar to the original trilogy, our protagonist's actions, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be inextricably linked with the fate of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran mostly in side by side. In this final book, they converge. As in the original series, the protagonist's actions and her path are shown to be deeply entwined with the fate of the world. Her private mission to reconnect with her companion and recover her creativity becomes the central struggle in a broader conflict with an oppressive regime which, as these systems always have, is attempting to quell freedom of reason, originality and art: all the personal, rebellious ways in which humans can be independent.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The book opens with the finding of a series of unusual openings in the makeup of the planet's sky: gateways that look to open into alternate realities. A particular portal seems to be the origin of the fiercely disputed mystical extract. The authority, with its leader at its head, classifies these openings as a challenge to the religion's beliefs and aims to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to shift from strict rationalism and revert to intuition, however, her belief that these locations must be protected – that their significance and what they offer is somehow essential – grows. "The substance, or the extract, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or whatever we call it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a Blakean struggle between innocence and knowledge is established.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
