Things are unraveling in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a world that manifests, now more than ever, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Institutions are failing, or reorganizing themselves along new and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from authorities, and accumulating in the halls of religious leaders, the treasuries of business empires, the control of rioters. "Something is at work, silently, gradually", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and durable are faltering and collapsing."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the question that propels the concluding book, which resumes where its predecessor concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's last venture into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling realm he first revealed 30 years ago, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose geography maps on to that of our world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans appear and reason and behave like us, but are joined by external spirits, beings in animal form; where the skies are filled with witches and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, vehicles are caught and beverages is sipped, and mature scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a baby in the prequel, the introductory book with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the sharp and determined protagonist of the prior volumes, but aged, melancholic, warier, less sure. This circumscription is intensified by her split from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the cause which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to leave in pursuit of that childlike part of her which she seems to have lost (an trait which he represents as her "vision"), and her mission to reunite with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed the protagonist undertake a wandering trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with marvel and peril on the way. But from the start, underlying forces were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the faith's ruling body, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister incarnation of austere, procedural wickedness – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – our protagonist's relative, who faults her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of head of the church's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his recently acquired authority to extend the church's dominium. A key character, who carried young Lyra to safety along a swollen river as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an university scholar with a secondary role in espionage: he is dispatched to Geneva to learn more about his plans. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and precious essential oil which appears mysteriously to be the origin of a social and economic disturbance emanating out from that area. The extract is viewed by some as a marketable commodity, by others as a research-based or spiritual wonder, and by yet others – the extremist "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of malevolence; an insult that must be destroyed. The issue of its origins, its meaning, and whether it should be removed or preserved is becoming urgent.
Similar to the first series, the heroine's deeds, and her destiny, are shown to be deeply connected with the destiny of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran largely in parallel. In The Rose Field, they come together. As in the first trilogy, Lyra's movements and her destiny are unveiled to be deeply entwined with the fate of the realm. Her private journey to reunite with her soul and regain her creativity becomes the primary conflict in a broader conflict with an oppressive system which, as such regimes often attempt, is attempting to quell autonomy of thought, originality and culture: all the inner, rebellious ways in which people can be free.
Dimensional Rifts and Ideological Conflicts
The book opens with the unveiling of a series of unusual openings in the structure of the Earth's air: portals that look to lead to different dimensions. A particular window appears to be the origin of the much debated rose oil. The authority, with its leader at its leadership, designates these portals as a threat to the institution's beliefs and sets out to destroy them. As our protagonist begins to move from rigid logic and return to feeling, nevertheless, her conviction that these locations must be preserved – that their meaning and what they offer is somehow crucial – increases. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or whatever we label it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a Blakean tussle between purity and experience is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
