Things are falling apart in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a world that seems, in this volume especially, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Organizations are crumbling, or reorganizing themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An invisible force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from governments, and gathering in the halls of theocrats, the treasuries of corporations, the grasp of rioters. "Some force is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says trader a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his place in an city cafe. "Things we thought were secure and durable are faltering and giving way."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that drives The Rose Field, which resumes where its predecessor left off. This is, according to many, the author's final venture into the elaborately built, infinitely beguiling world he first unveiled three decades past, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose terrain aligns with that of this world, but whose past diverges and shifts with ours; where the humans look and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, beings in animal form; where the skies are populated with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, buses are taken and drinks is consumed, and middle-aged academics carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in the first volume, the prequel with which the author began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still distinctly the sharp and tenacious heroine of the previous installments, but more mature, melancholic, more careful, more doubtful. This restraint is heightened by her split from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to depart in search of that innocent part of her which she appears to have shed (an quality which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her mission to reunite with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which saw Lyra undertake a picaresque voyage across the continent and into the mountain region, encountering with wonder and danger on the way. But from the start, underlying forces were in action, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the religious ruling body, and the author's brilliantly sinister embodiment of strict, bureaucratic wickedness – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's uncle, who blames her for his sibling's death – has positioned himself into the role of leader of the authority's governing body, and is intent on using his newfound authority to broaden the institution's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued young the heroine to safety along a flooded Thames as an child in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a sideline in espionage: he is assigned to a key location to discover more about the antagonist's intentions. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and precious rose oil which seems mysteriously to be the cause of a social and financial disturbance emanating out from Central Asia. The extract is viewed by various factions as a tradeable product, by alternate groups as a empirical or mystical phenomenon, and by others still – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an insult that must be eradicated. The question of where it comes from, what it stands for, and if it should be removed or safeguarded is coming rapidly to the fore.
Like the first series, Lyra's deeds, and her fate, are shown to be inseparably linked with the future of the world
In its predecessor, these narratives ran broadly in parallel. In this final book, they come together. As in His Dark Materials, her actions and her path are shown to be inextricably entwined with the fate of the world. Her individual quest to rejoin with her soul and recover her imagination becomes the primary battleground in a wider battle with an authoritarian government which, as such authorities typically do, is attempting to stifle independence of thought, originality and culture: all the inner, defiant ways in which humans can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The story opens with the finding of a series of unusual openings in the makeup of the planet's atmosphere: windows that seem to give on to alternate realities. An example of a opening manifests to be the source of the highly contested mystical extract. The church, with Delamare at its leadership, classifies these openings as a threat to the institution's beliefs and aims to destroy them. As Lyra begins to move from rigid reason and back to intuition, nevertheless, her belief that these sites must be preserved – that their meaning and what they offer is mysteriously vital – strengthens. "Dust, or the extract, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a philosophical conflict between innocence and experience is established.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
