Tings are collapsing in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the next of the author's grand trilogies set in a world that appears, in this volume especially, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or restructuring themselves along new and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from states, and accumulating in the offices of religious leaders, the treasuries of corporations, the control of rioters. "Something is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the Silk Roads from his post in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and durable are faltering and giving way."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that something might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that propels The Rose Field, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, by all accounts, the author's last excursion into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling world he first revealed 30 years ago, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose geography aligns with that of this world, but whose chronicles diverges and shifts with ours; where the individuals look and think and act like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, souls in beast form; where the skies are teeming with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, buses are ridden and tea is consumed, and middle-aged academics carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a child in the first trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the first volume, the prequel with which Pullman began the series, is now a adult: still recognisably the prickly and tenacious protagonist of the prior volumes, but more mature, melancholic, warier, more doubtful. This limitation is amplified by her division from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the cause which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to depart in quest of that childlike part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he represents as her "imagination"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a picaresque voyage across the continent and into the mountain region, encountering with wonder and risk on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the church's ruling body, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister embodiment of rigid, bureaucratic malice – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. The antagonist – Lyra's relative, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the office of president of the authority's ruling assembly, and is set on using his recently acquired authority to extend the church's control. A key character, who carried infant Lyra to security along a overflowing river as an young boy in the prequel, is now an academic with a sideline in espionage: he is sent to Geneva to learn more about his intentions. And beneath all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and valuable rose oil which seems mysteriously to be the source of a social and economic disturbance spreading out from the region. The substance is seen by some as a marketable product, by different parties as a scientific or esoteric miracle, and by yet others – the zealous "men from the mountains" – as a source of evil; an insult that must be destroyed. The question of its source, its meaning, and whether it should be destroyed or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
As in His Dark Materials, Lyra's deeds, and her fate, are revealed to be inseparably connected with the fate of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran largely in side by side. In the conclusion, they converge. Like the original series, the protagonist's movements and her destiny are revealed to be inseparably linked with the destiny of the realm. Her individual mission to reconnect with her soul and rediscover her creativity becomes the primary battleground in a larger conflict with an controlling system which, as these systems often attempt, is seeking to suppress autonomy of reason, originality and culture: all the inner, resistant ways in which people can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Moral Battles
The book opens with the discovery of a set of unusual openings in the makeup of the world's sky: gateways that seem to lead to different dimensions. An example of a portal appears to be the origin of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its helm, designates these portals as a threat to the church's doctrine and aims to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to move from strict reason and return to instinct, yet, her certainty that these places must be protected – that their meaning and what they provide is in some way essential – strengthens. "The substance, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or whatever we label it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a poetic conflict between purity and experience is prepared.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
