Things are collapsing in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a universe that appears, now more than ever, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or reassembling themselves along new and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from states, and accumulating in the halls of religious leaders, the treasuries of conglomerates, the hands of crowds. "Something is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his place in an city cafe. "Things we thought were firm and solid are weakening and giving way."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that animates the concluding book, which picks up where its predecessor ended. This is, reportedly, the author's concluding foray into the elaborately built, infinitely beguiling realm he first revealed 30 years ago, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a world whose landscape aligns with that of our world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the humans look and think and behave like us, but are paired by daemons, beings in creature form; where the air are populated with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but below, transports are ridden and drinks is consumed, and middle-aged academics carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a adult: still recognisably the sharp and tenacious heroine of the earlier books, but older, sadder, more careful, less certain. This restraint is amplified by her separation from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to go off in pursuit of that childlike part of her which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he epitomises as her "vision"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which saw the protagonist undertake a picaresque trek across the continent and into the mountain region, encountering with wonder and danger on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in play, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the religious controlling power, and the author's brilliantly sinister embodiment of rigid, bureaucratic malice – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's uncle, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of leader of the Magisterium's governing body, and is set on using his recently acquired influence to extend the church's control. A key character, who saved infant the heroine to safety along a overflowing river as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a secondary role in spycraft: he is assigned to a key location to learn more about his aims. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the rare and costly botanical extract which appears mysteriously to be the origin of a social and financial disturbance rippling out from the region. The oil is seen by various factions as a tradeable product, by alternate groups as a research-based or esoteric miracle, and by yet others – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of darkness; an challenge that must be destroyed. The dilemma of its source, what it stands for, and whether it should be eliminated or preserved is escalating in importance.
Like His Dark Materials, the heroine's deeds, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be inextricably linked with the destiny of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran broadly in side by side. In The Rose Field, they converge. As in the first trilogy, the protagonist's choices and her fate are shown to be inextricably linked with the future of the world. Her private mission to reconnect with her soul and regain her creativity becomes the key conflict in a larger war with an authoritarian regime which, as such authorities often attempt, is striving to quell independence of thought, innovation and expression: all the personal, resistant ways in which humans can be independent.
Dimensional Rifts and Moral Battles
The book begins with the unveiling of a set of unusual openings in the makeup of the world's air: portals that appear to open into different dimensions. One such opening appears to be the source of the highly contested mystical extract. The Magisterium, with its leader at its head, labels these openings as a challenge to the religion's beliefs and endeavors to destroy them. As the heroine begins to move from strict rationalism and return to feeling, yet, her belief that these places must be preserved – that their meaning and what they provide is in some way essential – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the imagination, or the field of roses, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a Blakean struggle between innocence and maturity is set.
Story Tempo and Personal Evolution
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
