Things are falling apart in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of the author's masterful trilogies set in a realm that manifests, now more than ever, as a intense and slanted version of our own. Establishments are failing, or reassembling themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An invisible force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from governments, and accumulating in the offices of religious leaders, the coffers of conglomerates, the control of crowds. "An element is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says merchant Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his place in an city cafe. "Things we thought were secure and solid are deteriorating and failing."
The Central Mystery and Her Quest
Exactly what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the question that animates The Rose Field, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, according to many, Pullman's last foray into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating world he first introduced 30 years ago, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose terrain maps on to that of this world, but whose past diverges and shifts with ours; where the individuals look and think and behave like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, souls in animal form; where the heavens are teeming with witches and gryphons, but beneath those skies, vehicles are taken and drinks is drunk, and middle-aged academics carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the prequel, the prequel with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the sharp and determined heroine of the prior volumes, but more mature, melancholic, more careful, less sure. This restraint is amplified by her split from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
His choice to leave in pursuit of that childlike part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "creativity"), and her mission to reunite with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which chronicled Lyra undertake a adventurous trek across Europe and into the mountain region, encountering with wonder and danger on the way. But from the beginning, deeper currents were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the faith's ruling body, and Pullman's masterfully eerie embodiment of strict, procedural evil – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. The antagonist – the heroine's uncle, who blames her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the role of leader of the Magisterium's High Council, and is determined on using his newfound power to extend the religion's rule. A key character, who saved young the heroine to security along a swollen Thames as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in espionage: he is sent to a key location to discover more about Delamare's plans. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and valuable essential oil which manifests mysteriously to be the origin of a societal and economic crisis emanating out from that area. The substance is seen by various factions as a marketable commodity, by different parties as a scientific or esoteric wonder, and by yet others – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a origin of evil; an insult that must be eradicated. The issue of its source, its significance, and whether it should be removed or preserved is becoming urgent.
Like His Dark Materials, our protagonist's decisions, and her destiny, are shown to be inextricably linked with the future of the world
In the previous volume, these storylines ran mostly in parallel. In this final book, they merge. Similar to His Dark Materials, the protagonist's choices and her path are revealed to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the universe. Her individual mission to reunite with her daemon and regain her creativity becomes the central conflict in a larger war with an oppressive government which, as these systems always have, is striving to suppress freedom of reason, creativity and art: all the personal, defiant ways in which people can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The novel opens with the finding of a series of unusual cracks in the makeup of the planet's air: portals that appear to open into other worlds. A particular window manifests to be the origin of the fiercely disputed mystical extract. The authority, with its leader at its head, designates these windows as a problem to the institution's beliefs and aims to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to shift from rigid logic and back to feeling, nevertheless, her belief that these locations must be protected – that what they stand for and what they provide is somehow crucial – strengthens. "The substance, 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 philosophical tussle between innocence and knowledge is prepared.
Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
