Tings are unraveling in the last installment of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that appears, here more than ever, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or restructuring themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from states, and gathering in the chambers of theocrats, the treasuries of conglomerates, the hands of crowds. "An element is at work, stealthily, gradually", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and durable are deteriorating and failing."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Precisely what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that animates the concluding book, which resumes where the previous book left off. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final excursion into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting universe he first revealed in the distant past, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose landscape aligns with that of our world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the individuals look and reason and act like us, but are paired by daemons, essences in animal form; where the skies are populated with witches and legendary creatures, but below, vehicles are taken and tea is drunk, and mature scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first encountered as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the prequel, the origin story with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a young woman: still recognisably the prickly and determined main character of the prior volumes, but more mature, sadder, more cautious, less certain. This limitation is intensified by her separation from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the cause which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
The daemon's resolve to depart in quest of that youthful part of her which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her mission to reunite with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which saw Lyra undertake a picaresque journey across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with amazement and risk on the way. But from the beginning, deeper currents were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the church's controlling power, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of rigid, procedural malice – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. The antagonist – our protagonist's uncle, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of head of the church's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his fresh power to broaden the church's control. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued young Lyra to safety along a flooded Thames as an child in La Belle Sauvage, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in intelligence work: he is dispatched to the city to learn more about his aims. And beneath all of this is the puzzle surrounding the uncommon and valuable botanical extract which seems mysteriously to be the cause of a social and financial disturbance emanating out from the region. The substance is regarded by some as a marketable product, by alternate groups as a scientific or mystical wonder, and by yet others – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a origin of darkness; an affront that must be destroyed. The question of its source, its significance, and if it should be destroyed or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
As in the original trilogy, our protagonist's actions, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be deeply linked with the destiny of the world
In the previous volume, these plots ran largely in side by side. In The Rose Field, they come together. As in His Dark Materials, Lyra's choices and her path are revealed to be inextricably linked with the fate of the universe. Her personal mission to reunite with her companion and rediscover her vision becomes the central battleground in a larger conflict with an authoritarian system which, as these systems typically do, is seeking to quell independence of thought, creativity and expression: all the inner, defiant ways in which humans can be independent.
Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles
The book opens with the discovery of a series of unusual openings in the structure of the Earth's sky: portals that appear to open into other worlds. One such window manifests to be the source of the much debated rose oil. The authority, with its leader at its leadership, labels these openings as a threat to the church's doctrine and sets out to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to turn away from inflexible logic and return to feeling, yet, her belief that these places must be protected – that what they stand for and what they offer is mysteriously crucial – grows. "Dust, or rose oil, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a Blakean struggle between innocence and experience is prepared.
Story Tempo and Personal Evolution
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
