Things 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, here more than ever, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Organizations are crumbling, or restructuring themselves along new and troubling lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from authorities, and gathering in the halls of religious leaders, the vaults of conglomerates, the grasp of crowds. "Something is at work, very quietly, imperceptibly", says trader a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his seat in an city cafe. "Things we thought were stable and strong are faltering and giving way."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that drives this final volume, which resumes where the previous book ended. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's last excursion into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling world he first revealed three decades past, with the publication of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose landscape corresponds to that of this world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans appear and reason and act like us, but are paired by animal souls, essences in beast form; where the heavens are filled with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, transports are ridden and drinks is consumed, and middle-aged academics carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a child in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the prequel, the introductory book with which the author began the series, is now a young woman: still recognisably the prickly and determined protagonist of the earlier books, but older, sadder, more cautious, less certain. This restraint is heightened by her separation from her daemon, Pan – but it was also, paradoxically, the cause which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
His choice to leave in search of that childlike part of her which she may have forgotten (an quality which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which followed Lyra undertake a adventurous trek across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with amazement and peril on the way. But from the beginning, profound shifts were in action, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the church's controlling power, and the author's masterfully eerie representation of strict, bureaucratic evil – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's uncle, who faults her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the office of head of the church's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his fresh influence to extend the church's rule. A key character, who saved young Lyra to safety along a flooded river as an young boy in the prequel, is now an academic with a secondary role in spycraft: he is sent to a key location to find out more about the antagonist's aims. And beneath all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and valuable botanical extract which manifests mysteriously to be the cause of a social and financial disturbance emanating out from Central Asia. The oil is regarded by certain groups as a tradeable commodity, by others as a scientific or esoteric phenomenon, and by yet others – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a source of darkness; an affront that must be destroyed. The question of its origins, its meaning, and if it should be removed or preserved is becoming urgent.
As in the first series, our protagonist's actions, and her future, are demonstrated to be inseparably entwined with the fate of the world
In the previous volume, these narratives ran broadly in parallel. In The Rose Field, they merge. Like the original series, Lyra's choices and her fate are shown to be inextricably linked with the future of the world. Her private journey to reunite with her companion and regain her vision becomes the key struggle in a wider conflict with an authoritarian regime which, as such authorities always have, is attempting to stifle freedom of thinking, originality and art: all the internal, rebellious ways in which people can be free.
Dimensional Rifts and Moral Battles
The story opens with the finding of a collection of strange fissures in the fabric of the Earth's air: windows that appear to open into other worlds. One such portal manifests to be the source of the much debated botanical substance. The church, with Delamare at its helm, labels these windows as a challenge to the institution's beliefs and sets out to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to turn away from rigid reason and revert to feeling, however, her certainty that these places must be protected – that what they stand for and what they provide is somehow crucial – strengthens. "Dust, or the extract, or the vision, or the field of roses, or whatever we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a Blakean tussle between naivety and experience is set.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
