Things are falling apart in the last installment of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a world that seems, in this volume especially, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Institutions are failing, or reassembling themselves along new and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Power is draining from authorities, and gathering in the offices of religious leaders, the vaults of business empires, the grasp of rioters. "Something is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the Silk Roads from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and strong are faltering and collapsing."
Core Enigma and The Protagonist's Path
Exactly what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that animates The Rose Field, which continues where its predecessor concluded. This is, reportedly, the author's last foray into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating realm he first unveiled in the distant past, with the launch of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose geography maps on to that of this world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals look and reason and behave like us, but are joined by daemons, essences in creature form; where the air are filled with witches and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, buses are caught and tea is consumed, and older academics carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first encountered as a young girl in the first trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in the first volume, the introductory book with which the author began the series, is now a mature individual: still distinctly the spiky and persistent protagonist of the earlier books, but aged, sadder, more careful, less sure. This limitation is intensified by her split from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to depart in search of that innocent part of the heroine which she appears to have shed (an quality which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the driving forces of the prior book, which followed the protagonist undertake a wandering voyage across the continent and into the mountain region, encountering with amazement and danger on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in motion, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the church's controlling power, and Pullman's deliciously chilling incarnation of rigid, procedural wickedness – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. The antagonist – Lyra's uncle, who faults her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the position of president of the authority's High Council, and is set on using his newfound authority to broaden the institution's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who carried infant Lyra to security along a overflowing Thames as an young boy in the prequel, is now an academic with a additional duty in espionage: he is dispatched to Geneva to learn more about the antagonist's intentions. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and costly botanical extract which appears mysteriously to be the source of a societal and financial crisis rippling out from Central Asia. The extract is regarded by certain groups as a commercial product, by different parties as a scientific or esoteric phenomenon, and by yet others – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a source of evil; an insult that must be eradicated. The issue of its source, its meaning, and whether it should be destroyed or preserved is escalating in importance.
Like the first series, the heroine's actions, and her future, are demonstrated to be deeply connected with the future of the realm
In the previous volume, these storylines ran broadly in tandem. In this final book, they converge. Similar to the original series, Lyra's actions and her fate are revealed to be inextricably linked with the fate of the universe. Her individual mission to rejoin with her soul and recover her vision becomes the central battleground in a larger conflict with an controlling government which, as such authorities often attempt, is attempting to suppress independence of reason, innovation and art: all the internal, rebellious ways in which humans can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Moral Battles
The novel begins with the unveiling of a series of curious cracks in the makeup of the Earth's sky: windows that seem to lead to alternate realities. A particular portal seems to be the source of the fiercely disputed mystical extract. The Magisterium, with its leader at its leadership, designates these portals as a problem to the religion's orthodoxy and aims to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to turn away from rigid rationalism and revert to intuition, yet, her certainty that these locations must be protected – that their significance and their value is somehow vital – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a Blakean struggle between naivety and experience is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
