Tings are falling apart in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that manifests, now more than ever, as a charged and slanted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along new and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Power is flowing away from states, and gathering in the offices of religious leaders, the treasuries of business empires, the control of crowds. "Some force is at work, stealthily, very subtly", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and solid are faltering and collapsing."
The Central Mystery and Her Quest
Precisely what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that propels the concluding book, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's concluding foray into the elaborately built, endlessly enchanting universe he first revealed 30 years ago, with the launch of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose terrain corresponds to that of the real world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and think and behave like us, but are paired by animal souls, beings in creature form; where the skies are filled with witches and legendary creatures, but below, vehicles are taken and beverages is drunk, and mature professors carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the first volume, the introductory book with which the author began the series, is now a mature individual: still clearly the spiky and determined heroine of the prior volumes, but aged, more sorrowful, more cautious, more doubtful. This restraint is heightened by her split from her animal guide, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the cause which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to leave in quest of that innocent part of her which she appears to have shed (an quality which he represents as her "vision"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which followed the protagonist undertake a picaresque voyage across Europe and into the Caucasus, encountering with wonder and risk on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the faith's governing authority, and the author's masterfully eerie representation of strict, procedural malice – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's relative, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of president of the authority's governing body, and is intent on using his recently acquired authority to extend the church's dominium. Another protagonist, who carried baby Lyra to security along a overflowing Thames as an young boy in the first book, is now an academic with a additional duty in espionage: he is assigned to the city to learn more about the antagonist's aims. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and valuable rose oil which appears mysteriously to be the cause of a societal and economic upheaval spreading out from that area. The extract is viewed by some as a marketable good, by different parties as a empirical or spiritual phenomenon, and by yet others – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of darkness; an affront that must be eradicated. The question of its origins, what it stands for, and whether it should be destroyed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
As in His Dark Materials, our protagonist's decisions, and her future, are revealed to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the realm
In its predecessor, these storylines ran mostly in parallel. In the conclusion, they come together. Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's movements and her destiny are revealed to be inseparably entwined with the future of the world. Her personal mission to rejoin with her soul and recover her imagination becomes the primary battleground in a broader battle with an oppressive regime which, as such regimes often attempt, is attempting to suppress independence of reason, creativity and art: all the personal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be free.
Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles
The book opens with the unveiling of a series of curious openings in the structure of the Earth's air: gateways that appear to open into different dimensions. A particular window appears to be the point of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The church, with Delamare at its leadership, classifies these portals as a threat to the religion's doctrine and endeavors to destroy them. As the heroine begins to shift from rigid logic and revert to intuition, nevertheless, her belief that these locations must be defended – that what they stand for and what they offer is in some way crucial – increases. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or whatever we call it," she says, "we require it." The setting for a poetic tussle between innocence and maturity is set.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
