Tings are collapsing in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a realm that appears, in this volume especially, as a charged and slanted version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from governments, and pooling in the chambers of religious leaders, the vaults of conglomerates, the control of rioters. "An element is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were stable and durable are weakening and giving way."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that something might be, and ways to oppose it, is the question that drives this final volume, which continues where its predecessor left off. This is, according to many, Pullman's final foray into the elaborately built, endlessly enchanting world he first introduced 30 years ago, with the publication of Northern Lights. It's a world whose terrain aligns with that of our world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans appear and think and behave like us, but are joined by animal souls, beings in creature form; where the heavens are teeming with witches and gryphons, but underneath, buses are caught and drinks is drunk, and mature academics carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a baby in the first volume, the introductory book with which the author began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still recognisably the sharp and determined main character of the previous installments, but more mature, melancholic, more careful, less certain. This limitation is heightened by her split from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the cause which made him desert her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
The daemon's resolve to leave in quest of that innocent part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an quality which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her journey to reunite with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a picaresque trek across the continent and into the mountain region, encountering with amazement and danger on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the religious governing authority, and the author's brilliantly sinister embodiment of rigid, administrative wickedness – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – our protagonist's family member, who faults her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of president of the authority's High Council, and is intent on using his recently acquired influence to extend the church's rule. A key character, who saved baby Lyra to safety along a swollen Thames as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in spycraft: he is assigned to a key location to learn more about his plans. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the rare and valuable essential oil which manifests mysteriously to be the origin of a societal and economic upheaval emanating out from Central Asia. The oil is regarded by some as a commercial product, by others as a empirical or esoteric phenomenon, and by others still – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of malevolence; an affront that must be eradicated. The issue of its source, its significance, and whether it should be eliminated or protected is becoming urgent.
Similar to the first series, our protagonist's actions, and her destiny, are shown to be inseparably connected with the fate of the realm
In the previous volume, these narratives ran largely in tandem. In The Rose Field, they merge. Like His Dark Materials, Lyra's actions and her fate are unveiled to be deeply entwined with the future of the world. Her private quest to reunite with her companion and recover her creativity becomes the central conflict in a larger conflict with an controlling regime which, as such authorities always have, is striving to stifle freedom of reason, originality and culture: all the inner, resistant ways in which people can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The novel begins with the unveiling of a set of curious cracks in the structure of the world's sky: windows that look to open into different dimensions. One such portal manifests to be the origin of the much debated mystical extract. The authority, with the antagonist at its head, labels these windows as a threat to the religion's orthodoxy and endeavors to destroy them. As our protagonist begins to move from strict rationalism and revert to feeling, nevertheless, her belief that these places must be preserved – that their meaning and their value is somehow crucial – strengthens. "Dust, or the extract, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we require it." The scene for a poetic tussle between naivety and experience is established.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
