Things are unraveling in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that appears, in this volume especially, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or restructuring themselves along novel and troubling lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from authorities, and accumulating in the chambers of theocrats, the coffers of conglomerates, the control of rioters. "Some force is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his seat in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and solid are deteriorating and collapsing."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Precisely what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that animates this final volume, which picks up where its predecessor left off. This is, reportedly, Pullman's concluding venture into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling world he first introduced in the distant past, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose terrain aligns with that of the real world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and think and act like us, but are joined by animal souls, beings in animal form; where the skies are populated with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, buses are taken and drinks is drunk, and older scholars carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a child in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in La Belle Sauvage, the introductory book with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still clearly the prickly and determined main character of the earlier books, but aged, more sorrowful, more cautious, more doubtful. This circumscription is amplified by her split from her daemon, Pan – but it was also, paradoxically, the cause which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to depart in quest of that childlike part of her which she appears to have shed (an trait which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which chronicled Lyra undertake a picaresque trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with wonder and risk on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in motion, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the religious ruling body, and Pullman's masterfully eerie representation of austere, bureaucratic wickedness – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's relative, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of leader of the Magisterium's governing body, and is set on using his newfound influence to extend the religion's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who carried baby the heroine to safety along a swollen river as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a sideline in espionage: he is sent to Geneva to find out more about the antagonist's aims. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and costly essential oil which appears mysteriously to be the source of a societal and financial upheaval emanating out from that area. The substance is seen by various factions as a tradeable commodity, by others as a empirical or esoteric phenomenon, and by others still – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of darkness; an challenge that must be destroyed. The question of its origins, its significance, and whether it should be removed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
Like the original trilogy, Lyra's actions, and her destiny, are shown to be deeply linked with the destiny of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran broadly in side by side. In this final book, they converge. Like the original series, her choices and her destiny are revealed to be deeply woven with the future of the universe. Her private journey to reunite with her companion and rediscover her imagination becomes the central struggle in a broader battle with an authoritarian system which, as these systems typically do, is striving to quell independence of thought, originality and art: all the inner, resistant ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles
The novel opens with the unveiling of a set of curious cracks in the fabric of the Earth's air: windows that seem to give on to alternate realities. An example of a window manifests to be the origin of the much debated mystical extract. The authority, with its leader at its head, classifies these windows as a threat to the church's beliefs and sets out to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to move from rigid rationalism and back to intuition, nevertheless, her belief that these locations must be preserved – that their significance and what they offer is somehow crucial – strengthens. "The substance, or the extract, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we require it." The scene for a poetic tussle between naivety and maturity is set.
Story Tempo and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
