Things are falling apart in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that manifests, in this volume especially, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along novel and troubling lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from governments, and gathering in the chambers of religious leaders, the vaults of corporations, the control of crowds. "Something is at work, silently, very subtly", says businessman a merchant figure, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and strong are faltering and collapsing."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that propels The Rose Field, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, reportedly, Pullman's last excursion into the elaborately built, infinitely beguiling universe he first revealed 30 years ago, with the publication of Northern Lights. It's a world whose landscape maps on to that of the real world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the humans appear and think and behave like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, souls in beast form; where the skies are populated with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, vehicles are caught and drinks is consumed, and middle-aged scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a young girl in the first trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the first volume, the introductory book with which the author began the series, is now a mature individual: still distinctly the sharp and persistent protagonist of the previous installments, but older, melancholic, more careful, less certain. This circumscription is intensified by her split from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
His choice to leave in quest of that innocent part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an trait which he represents as her "imagination"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which followed Lyra undertake a wandering voyage across the continent and into the Caucasus, meeting with wonder and danger on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in action, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the religious ruling body, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister incarnation of strict, procedural wickedness – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – Lyra's uncle, who faults her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the office of head of the Magisterium's High Council, and is set on using his recently acquired influence to broaden the church's control. Another protagonist, who carried baby Lyra to refuge along a overflowing river as an child in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a secondary role in intelligence work: he is assigned to the city to find out more about the antagonist's plans. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and precious essential oil which manifests in some way to be the cause of a social and financial upheaval spreading out from the region. The extract is regarded by certain groups as a tradeable commodity, by different parties as a empirical or spiritual phenomenon, and by others still – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of evil; an insult that must be eradicated. The issue of where it comes from, its significance, and whether it should be destroyed or preserved is becoming urgent.
Like the first series, Lyra's deeds, and her destiny, are revealed to be deeply linked with the fate of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran largely in parallel. In the conclusion, they converge. As in the original series, the protagonist's choices and her destiny are unveiled to be deeply woven with the future of the universe. Her personal mission to reunite with her companion and rediscover her imagination becomes the primary conflict in a larger war with an oppressive government which, as such authorities typically do, is attempting to quell freedom of thought, innovation and art: all the personal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be independent.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The novel starts with the finding of a collection of unusual cracks in the makeup of the world's air: windows that look to give on to different dimensions. One such opening manifests to be the source of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The church, with Delamare at its head, designates these portals as a threat to the institution's beliefs and aims to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to turn away from inflexible rationalism and revert to instinct, yet, her certainty that these locations must be protected – that what they stand for and what they offer is mysteriously crucial – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or whatever we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a Blakean tussle between purity and maturity is set.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
