Things are unraveling in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of the author's masterful trilogies set in a universe that appears, here more than ever, as a intense and slanted version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from governments, and accumulating in the offices of religious leaders, the coffers of corporations, the grasp of crowds. "Something is at work, stealthily, gradually", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his post in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and durable are weakening and giving way."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Exactly what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that animates the concluding book, which continues where the previous book left off. This is, reportedly, Pullman's concluding foray into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling universe he first unveiled three decades past, with the publication of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose landscape corresponds to that of this world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the people look and think and act like us, but are joined by external spirits, essences in beast form; where the air are teeming with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but below, vehicles are taken and drinks is drunk, and middle-aged scholars carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in the first volume, the prequel with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still distinctly the spiky and persistent heroine of the previous installments, but aged, melancholic, more cautious, more doubtful. This circumscription is intensified by her division from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to go off in search of that childlike part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he epitomises as her "vision"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a wandering journey across the continent and into the Caucasus, facing with amazement and danger on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in action, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the faith's governing authority, and Pullman's deliciously chilling representation of strict, bureaucratic wickedness – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's uncle, who holds responsible her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the office of head of the church's High Council, and is determined on using his fresh power to extend the institution's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who saved infant the heroine to security along a swollen river as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in espionage: he is sent to a key location to find out more about his intentions. And beneath all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and precious rose oil which appears mysteriously to be the source of a social and financial disturbance spreading out from that area. The oil is viewed by certain groups as a marketable commodity, by others as a research-based or esoteric phenomenon, and by yet others – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an insult that must be eradicated. The issue of its source, its meaning, and whether it should be destroyed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
Like the original trilogy, Lyra's actions, and her destiny, are shown to be deeply connected with the destiny of the realm
In its predecessor, these storylines ran largely in parallel. In this final book, they converge. As in His Dark Materials, the protagonist's movements and her path are revealed to be inextricably woven with the destiny of the universe. Her private mission to reconnect with her daemon and rediscover her imagination becomes the key struggle in a larger war with an authoritarian regime which, as such regimes often attempt, is attempting to quell independence of thought, innovation and art: all the internal, rebellious ways in which humans can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Moral Battles
The novel starts with the unveiling of a set of curious cracks in the structure of the world's air: portals that appear to open into other worlds. A particular portal manifests to be the origin of the highly contested botanical substance. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its leadership, labels these openings as a problem to the institution's orthodoxy and sets out to destroy them. As our protagonist begins to turn away from rigid logic and return to feeling, nevertheless, her belief that these sites must be defended – that their meaning and what they provide is in some way crucial – strengthens. "The substance, or the extract, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a poetic conflict between naivety and knowledge is set.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
