Things are falling apart in the last installment of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a realm that seems, now more than ever, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reassembling themselves along novel and troubling lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from governments, and pooling in the halls of religious leaders, the coffers of business empires, the hands of rioters. "An element is at work, stealthily, very subtly", says trader a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and durable are deteriorating and failing."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Precisely what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the question that animates The Rose Field, which picks up where its predecessor left off. This is, by all accounts, the author's last foray into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling realm he first introduced three decades past, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose landscape aligns with that of our world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals look and reason and act like us, but are paired by daemons, beings in creature form; where the heavens are populated with witches and gryphons, but beneath those skies, transports are ridden and beverages is consumed, and older scholars carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in the first volume, the prequel with which Pullman began the series, is now a young woman: still distinctly the spiky and determined main character of the previous installments, but aged, melancholic, warier, less sure. This restraint is intensified by her division from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
The daemon's resolve to go off in quest of that youthful part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he represents as her "imagination"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a adventurous voyage across Europe and into the mountain region, meeting with marvel and peril on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in motion, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the religious governing authority, and Pullman's deliciously chilling incarnation of austere, administrative wickedness – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. The antagonist – our protagonist's family member, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of head of the church's governing body, and is set on using his newfound influence to broaden the institution's control. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued infant the heroine to security along a swollen Thames as an child in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in espionage: he is assigned to a key location to learn more about Delamare's intentions. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and costly essential oil which seems in some way to be the cause of a social and economic upheaval emanating out from the region. The substance is seen by various factions as a marketable good, by others as a research-based or esoteric wonder, and by others still – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a source of darkness; an challenge that must be eradicated. The dilemma of its origins, its meaning, and if it should be removed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's decisions, and her future, are revealed to be inseparably connected with the future of the world
In its predecessor, these plots ran largely in parallel. In the conclusion, they converge. As in the original series, Lyra's choices and her fate are shown to be inextricably woven with the destiny of the universe. Her personal mission to reunite with her daemon and regain her vision becomes the central battleground in a larger war with an authoritarian system which, as such authorities often attempt, is striving to suppress autonomy of thinking, innovation and art: all the inner, rebellious ways in which people can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Ideological Conflicts
The story opens with the discovery of a series of strange cracks in the structure of the world's sky: windows that look to lead to different dimensions. One such window seems to be the source of the much debated botanical substance. The authority, with Delamare at its head, designates these portals as a threat to the church's orthodoxy and sets out to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to turn away from inflexible rationalism and return to intuition, nevertheless, her certainty that these locations must be defended – that their significance and what they offer is mysteriously essential – increases. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or whatever we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a Blakean tussle between purity and knowledge is set.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
