Things are falling apart in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a universe that appears, now more than ever, as a intense and slanted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or restructuring themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from authorities, and gathering in the chambers of religious leaders, the vaults of business empires, the hands of mobs. "Something is at work, stealthily, very subtly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and strong are weakening and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that drives the concluding book, which continues where the previous book concluded. This is, reportedly, the author's concluding excursion into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating world he first unveiled in the distant past, with the launch of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose geography maps on to that of the real world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans appear and think and act like us, but are paired by animal souls, essences in animal form; where the air are populated with enchantresses and gryphons, but beneath those skies, transports are caught and tea is drunk, and mature professors carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then saw again as a baby in La Belle Sauvage, the introductory book with which the author began this trilogy, is now a adult: still distinctly the prickly and tenacious main character of the earlier books, but aged, more sorrowful, warier, less certain. This limitation is heightened by her separation from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
His choice to go off in quest of that youthful part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an trait which he represents as her "vision"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a adventurous voyage across the continent and into the mountain region, meeting with wonder and peril on the way. But from the start, underlying forces were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the faith's governing authority, and the author's brilliantly sinister incarnation of rigid, administrative wickedness – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's uncle, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of president of the church's governing body, and is set on using his fresh influence to extend the church's control. Another protagonist, who saved baby the heroine to safety along a swollen river as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an academic with a secondary role in spycraft: he is dispatched to the city to discover more about the antagonist's plans. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the rare and costly essential oil which appears mysteriously to be the origin of a social and financial crisis rippling out from that area. The oil is viewed by some as a tradeable product, by others as a scientific or esoteric miracle, and by others still – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a source of malevolence; an affront that must be destroyed. The dilemma of its source, what it stands for, and whether it should be removed or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
Like the first series, Lyra's actions, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be inseparably entwined with the future of the realm
In its predecessor, these plots ran mostly in tandem. In The Rose Field, they come together. As in the original series, Lyra's actions and her destiny are shown to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the world. Her private quest to reunite with her companion and recover her creativity becomes the primary struggle in a wider battle with an authoritarian government which, as such authorities typically do, is attempting to stifle autonomy of thinking, innovation and expression: all the internal, resistant ways in which individuals can be independent.
Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles
The story opens with the discovery of a series of strange cracks in the structure of the planet's sky: portals that appear to give on to alternate realities. An example of a opening manifests to be the origin of the much debated botanical substance. The authority, with the antagonist at its head, designates these windows as a threat to the church's doctrine and endeavors to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to move from rigid rationalism and return to intuition, however, her certainty that these sites must be defended – that what they stand for and what they offer is somehow crucial – grows. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a Blakean struggle between purity and knowledge is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
