Tings are unraveling in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of the author's masterful trilogies set in a universe that seems, in this volume especially, as a intense and slanted version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from states, and gathering in the halls of theocrats, the treasuries of conglomerates, the control of crowds. "An element is at work, silently, very subtly", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his place in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and strong are faltering and failing."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Just what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the question that drives the concluding book, which picks up where the previous book concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's last venture into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling world he first unveiled in the distant past, with the publication of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose terrain aligns with that of our world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals look and reason and act like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, essences in animal form; where the skies are filled with witches and legendary creatures, but below, vehicles are ridden and beverages is consumed, and mature academics carry luxury shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in the prequel, the introductory book with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a adult: still recognisably the prickly and persistent heroine of the prior volumes, but more mature, melancholic, more careful, less sure. This restraint is amplified by her split from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
His choice to depart in pursuit of that youthful part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an trait which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a picaresque journey across Europe and into the Caucasus, encountering with marvel and peril on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in motion, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the faith's ruling body, and the author's masterfully eerie incarnation of rigid, bureaucratic malice – is under new leadership, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's uncle, who holds responsible her for his sibling's death – has positioned himself into the office of leader of the church's High Council, and is intent on using his newfound authority to expand the religion's dominium. Another protagonist, who saved baby the heroine to security along a overflowing river as an child in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is assigned to the city to discover more about Delamare's intentions. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and precious rose oil which seems mysteriously to be the origin of a social and financial crisis rippling out from Central Asia. The substance is seen by various factions as a commercial good, by alternate groups as a research-based or esoteric miracle, and by others still – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a origin of darkness; an insult that must be destroyed. The question of where it comes from, its significance, and whether it should be eliminated or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's actions, and her fate, are revealed to be deeply connected with the fate of the universe
In the previous volume, these narratives ran mostly in parallel. In this final book, they come together. Similar to His Dark Materials, her movements and her destiny are shown to be inextricably woven with the fate of the realm. Her personal quest to reunite with her companion and rediscover her creativity becomes the key conflict in a larger war with an authoritarian system which, as such authorities often attempt, is striving to stifle autonomy of thought, creativity and culture: all the personal, defiant ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The book starts with the unveiling of a set of unusual fissures in the fabric of the world's air: gateways that appear to open into alternate realities. A particular opening appears to be the origin of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The church, with its leader at its head, designates these portals as a challenge to the institution's beliefs and endeavors to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to shift from rigid rationalism and revert to intuition, however, her certainty that these locations must be preserved – that their significance and what they offer is somehow essential – strengthens. "The substance, or the extract, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or whatever we call it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a Blakean tussle between innocence and maturity is established.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
