Tings are unraveling in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the second of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a world that manifests, here more than ever, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Organizations are crumbling, or reorganizing themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from governments, and gathering in the chambers of theocrats, the treasuries of conglomerates, the control of crowds. "Something is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says merchant a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his seat in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and strong are deteriorating and failing."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Just what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that drives The Rose Field, which continues where its predecessor ended. This is, reportedly, the author's final foray into the elaborately built, deeply captivating world he first introduced in the distant past, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose terrain aligns with that of our world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and think and behave like us, but are joined by daemons, souls in beast form; where the heavens are populated with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but underneath, vehicles are taken and tea is drunk, and older scholars carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first encountered as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the first volume, the origin story with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a adult: still recognisably the sharp and determined main character of the prior volumes, but more mature, melancholic, more cautious, less sure. This limitation is heightened by her split from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which made him desert her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to go off in quest of that innocent part of her which she seems to have lost (an quality which he epitomises as her "vision"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which followed the protagonist undertake a adventurous voyage across the continent and into the Caucasus, facing with amazement and peril on the way. But from the start, underlying forces were in play, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the religious controlling power, and the author's brilliantly sinister representation of austere, administrative wickedness – is under new leadership, and asserting its power. The antagonist – our protagonist's uncle, who faults her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of leader of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his fresh power to broaden the institution's control. Another protagonist, who saved infant Lyra to refuge along a swollen river as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a secondary role in intelligence work: he is dispatched to Geneva to learn more about his plans. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the uncommon and costly botanical extract which seems somehow to be the origin of a social and economic disturbance spreading out from that area. The substance is regarded by some as a commercial good, by alternate groups as a scientific or esoteric wonder, and by others still – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a source of darkness; an affront that must be eradicated. The issue of its origins, its significance, and whether it should be destroyed or protected is escalating in importance.
Like the first series, Lyra's decisions, and her fate, are shown to be inseparably connected with the destiny of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran mostly in tandem. In the conclusion, they converge. As in the original series, Lyra's movements and her destiny are shown to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the realm. Her personal journey to rejoin with her companion and regain her imagination becomes the central struggle in a larger conflict with an authoritarian government which, as such regimes always have, is seeking to suppress independence of thinking, innovation and expression: all the personal, resistant ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The story opens with the finding of a series of strange cracks in the makeup of the planet's sky: windows that seem to lead to different dimensions. A particular window manifests to be the origin of the much debated rose oil. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its leadership, designates these portals as a problem to the religion's doctrine and endeavors to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to move from strict reason and revert to intuition, however, her certainty that these locations must be preserved – that what they stand for and what they provide is mysteriously vital – grows. "Dust, or the substance, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we require it." The scene for a Blakean struggle between innocence and maturity is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
