Tings are unraveling in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the second of the author's masterful trilogies set in a realm that appears, now more than ever, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reassembling themselves along new and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Control is shifting from governments, and accumulating in the halls of religious leaders, the vaults of conglomerates, the control of mobs. "Something is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his place in an city cafe. "Things we thought were secure and strong are weakening and failing."
The Central Mystery and The Protagonist's Path
Exactly what that something might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that propels The Rose Field, which continues where the previous book concluded. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's last excursion into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating realm he first revealed 30 years ago, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose geography maps on to that of the real world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the individuals appear and think and act like us, but are paired by daemons, essences in beast form; where the air are populated with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but below, buses are ridden and drinks is sipped, and older professors carry fancy shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in the first volume, the prequel with which the author began the series, is now a young woman: still recognisably the prickly and tenacious main character of the previous installments, but aged, more sorrowful, more careful, more doubtful. This circumscription is amplified by her division from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
The daemon's resolve to go off in quest of that youthful part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he represents as her "vision"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed Lyra undertake a wandering trek across the continent and into the mountain region, encountering with wonder and danger on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the faith's controlling power, and Pullman's masterfully eerie embodiment of strict, bureaucratic malice – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – Lyra's family member, who faults her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the office of president of the Magisterium's High Council, and is intent on using his recently acquired influence to broaden the institution's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued infant the heroine to refuge along a swollen Thames as an young boy in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in espionage: he is assigned to the city to find out more about his intentions. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and valuable essential oil which appears mysteriously to be the cause of a social and economic disturbance emanating out from the region. The substance is seen by various factions as a marketable commodity, by alternate groups as a research-based or mystical wonder, and by yet others – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an challenge that must be obliterated. The question of its source, its meaning, and whether it should be destroyed or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
As in His Dark Materials, our protagonist's deeds, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be deeply linked with the destiny of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran broadly in side by side. In the conclusion, they converge. Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's movements and her destiny are shown to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the world. Her personal mission to reconnect with her companion and recover her creativity becomes the key struggle in a broader conflict with an oppressive regime which, as such authorities often attempt, is seeking to stifle independence of reason, innovation and art: all the personal, resistant ways in which humans can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The story opens with the unveiling of a collection of strange openings in the fabric of the planet's atmosphere: portals that appear to lead to alternate realities. One such window seems to be the origin of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The authority, with Delamare at its leadership, designates these windows as a threat to the religion's orthodoxy and endeavors to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to shift from strict rationalism and revert to intuition, yet, her belief that these locations must be preserved – that what they stand for and what they provide is in some way vital – grows. "Dust, or the substance, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we require it." The setting for a Blakean conflict between purity and maturity is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
