Tings are collapsing in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that appears, in this volume especially, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Institutions are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from authorities, and accumulating in the halls of religious leaders, the vaults of corporations, the grasp of rioters. "Some force is at work, very quietly, imperceptibly", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were secure and strong are deteriorating and giving way."
The Central Mystery and The Protagonist's Path
Just what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that animates The Rose Field, which continues where its predecessor ended. This is, according to many, the author's concluding excursion into the elaborately built, endlessly enchanting world he first introduced 30 years ago, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose landscape aligns with that of this world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans appear and reason and behave like us, but are paired by daemons, souls in beast form; where the air are populated with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, buses are taken and tea is consumed, and older professors carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a child in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a baby in the first volume, the prequel with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a young woman: still recognisably the prickly and tenacious heroine of the previous installments, but more mature, more sorrowful, more cautious, less sure. This circumscription is intensified by her division from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the cause which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
The daemon's resolve to depart in pursuit of that innocent part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an quality which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed the protagonist undertake a wandering voyage across the continent and into the mountain region, encountering with wonder and peril on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the faith's ruling body, and Pullman's masterfully eerie representation of rigid, bureaucratic malice – is under new leadership, and asserting its power. The antagonist – the heroine's relative, who faults her for his sibling's death – has positioned himself into the position of president of the church's High Council, and is determined on using his newfound power to expand the church's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who carried young the heroine to security along a overflowing river as an child in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in spycraft: he is assigned to Geneva to discover more about his aims. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the rare and precious botanical extract which manifests mysteriously to be the origin of a social and economic crisis spreading out from Central Asia. The substance is regarded by certain groups as a commercial commodity, by alternate groups as a scientific or mystical wonder, and by further factions – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of evil; an affront that must be eradicated. The question of its origins, its significance, and if it should be removed or protected is coming rapidly to the fore.
Similar to the first series, our protagonist's decisions, and her fate, are shown to be inextricably linked with the destiny of the realm
In its predecessor, these storylines ran broadly in tandem. In the conclusion, they merge. Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's actions and her fate are unveiled to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the realm. Her individual journey to rejoin with her companion and regain her vision becomes the key battleground in a wider battle with an oppressive system which, as these systems typically do, is striving to suppress freedom of reason, creativity and expression: all the personal, rebellious ways in which people can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The story opens with the discovery of a collection of curious openings in the structure of the world's air: portals that seem to open into different dimensions. A particular opening seems to be the point of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The church, with Delamare at its helm, designates these windows as a threat to the church's doctrine and sets out to destroy them. As the heroine begins to move from inflexible rationalism and return to intuition, nevertheless, her belief that these places must be protected – that their meaning and their value is mysteriously vital – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or whatever we name it," she says, "we require it." The scene for a philosophical tussle between purity and knowledge is set.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
