Tings are collapsing in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of the author's grand trilogies set in a universe that appears, in this volume especially, as a charged and slanted version of our own. Establishments are failing, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from authorities, and gathering in the chambers of religious leaders, the coffers of corporations, the hands of crowds. "An element is at work, very quietly, imperceptibly", says businessman a merchant figure, keeping a watchful eye on the Silk Roads from his post in an city cafe. "Things we thought were secure and solid are faltering and giving way."
Key Puzzle and Her Quest
Just what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that animates the concluding book, which continues where its predecessor concluded. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's concluding venture into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling realm he first unveiled in the distant past, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose landscape aligns with that of our world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals look and think and behave like us, but are paired by external spirits, beings in creature form; where the heavens are teeming with enchantresses and gryphons, but underneath, vehicles are taken and beverages is drunk, and mature scholars carry luxury shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in the prequel, the origin story with which the author began this trilogy, is now a adult: still recognisably the spiky and tenacious protagonist of the previous installments, but more mature, more sorrowful, more cautious, more doubtful. This limitation is heightened by her split from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
His choice to go off in pursuit of that innocent part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an quality which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which followed Lyra undertake a wandering trek across Europe and into the mountain region, meeting with marvel and peril on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in play, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the faith's controlling power, and the author's brilliantly sinister embodiment of strict, administrative wickedness – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's family member, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the role of president of the Magisterium's governing body, and is determined on using his fresh power to extend the church's rule. A key character, who rescued infant Lyra to refuge along a flooded river as an young boy in the prequel, is now an academic with a secondary role in spycraft: he is assigned to Geneva to discover more about the antagonist's intentions. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and precious rose oil which appears in some way to be the source of a social and economic disturbance rippling out from Central Asia. The oil is seen by some as a tradeable good, by alternate groups as a research-based or spiritual phenomenon, and by others still – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a source of evil; an insult that must be destroyed. The question of where it comes from, its significance, and if it should be removed or protected is becoming urgent.
As in the original trilogy, our protagonist's deeds, and her fate, are revealed to be inseparably entwined with the future of the world
In its predecessor, these storylines ran broadly in tandem. In The Rose Field, they merge. As in His Dark Materials, her movements and her path are revealed to be inseparably woven with the fate of the universe. Her individual journey to reunite with her companion and regain her imagination becomes the primary battleground in a larger war with an controlling system which, as these systems often attempt, is attempting to stifle freedom of thought, creativity and expression: all the internal, rebellious ways in which people can be free.
Dimensional Rifts and Moral Battles
The novel starts with the finding of a series of unusual openings in the makeup of the planet's sky: windows that appear to open into alternate realities. A particular opening seems to be the point of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The Magisterium, with its leader at its head, classifies these openings as a problem to the religion's beliefs and endeavors to destroy them. As our protagonist begins to move from rigid logic and return to feeling, nevertheless, her conviction that these sites must be protected – that their meaning and what they offer is in some way essential – grows. "The substance, or the substance, or the imagination, or the field of roses, or whatever we call it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a philosophical struggle between innocence and knowledge is set.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
