Things are collapsing in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of the author's grand trilogies set in a world that seems, now more than ever, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Control is draining from authorities, and gathering in the chambers of theocrats, the treasuries of business empires, the control of rioters. "An element is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his post in an city cafe. "Things we thought were secure and solid are faltering and giving way."
The Central Mystery and The Protagonist's Path
Exactly what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that drives this final volume, which resumes where the previous book concluded. This is, according to many, Pullman's final foray into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling world he first unveiled in the distant past, with the launch of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose landscape maps on to that of this world, but whose chronicles diverges and shifts with ours; where the humans look and reason and act like us, but are joined by external spirits, beings in creature form; where the skies are filled with witches and gryphons, but underneath, transports are taken and beverages is consumed, and mature professors carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a infant in the first volume, the prequel with which the author began the series, is now a adult: still recognisably the sharp and tenacious main character of the previous installments, but older, sadder, more careful, less certain. This circumscription is amplified by her separation from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the cause which led him to leave her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
His choice to go off in search of that childlike part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an trait which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her journey to reunite with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which saw the protagonist undertake a picaresque trek across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with marvel and danger on the way. But from the beginning, profound shifts were in play, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the faith's ruling body, and Pullman's deliciously chilling incarnation of strict, procedural evil – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's uncle, who faults her for his family member's death – has positioned himself into the office of head of the Magisterium's governing body, and is determined on using his fresh authority to extend the church's rule. Another protagonist, who rescued young Lyra 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 find out more about his plans. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and costly botanical extract which seems somehow to be the origin of a social and economic disturbance emanating out from the region. The extract is regarded by some as a marketable commodity, by others as a empirical or esoteric phenomenon, and by yet others – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an insult that must be eradicated. The dilemma of its source, what it stands for, and if it should be eliminated or protected is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in the original trilogy, the heroine's actions, and her future, are shown to be inextricably linked with the fate of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran broadly in side by side. In this final book, they merge. Like the original series, Lyra's actions and her fate are shown to be deeply woven with the destiny of the world. Her private mission to reconnect with her daemon and regain her creativity becomes the primary conflict in a wider conflict with an oppressive government which, as such regimes always have, is seeking to suppress autonomy of thought, originality and culture: all the personal, defiant ways in which individuals can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The book begins with the finding of a set of unusual cracks in the structure of the planet's air: windows that look to open into alternate realities. One such portal appears to be the source of the fiercely disputed mystical extract. The church, with Delamare at its leadership, classifies these portals as a threat to the church's beliefs and sets out to destroy them. As our protagonist begins to move from strict rationalism and return to feeling, yet, her belief that these locations must be protected – that their meaning and what they provide is in some way crucial – grows. "Dust, or the substance, or the vision, or the field of roses, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a Blakean conflict between purity and experience is established.
Story Tempo and Personal Evolution
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
