Tings are falling apart in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a world that appears, here more than ever, as a intense and slanted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reassembling themselves along new and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from governments, and gathering in the offices of theocrats, the treasuries of corporations, the control of rioters. "An element is at work, stealthily, gradually", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and solid are weakening and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that animates The Rose Field, which picks up where its predecessor ended. This is, reportedly, the author's concluding excursion into the elaborately built, infinitely beguiling universe he first introduced 30 years ago, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a world whose landscape aligns with that of this world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the individuals look and think and behave like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, beings in animal form; where the skies are filled with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but underneath, buses are ridden and tea is sipped, and older academics carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the first volume, the origin story with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a young woman: still recognisably the prickly and tenacious main character of the earlier books, but aged, more sorrowful, warier, less certain. This limitation is amplified by her separation from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to leave in search of that innocent part of her which she seems to have lost (an quality which he epitomises as her "vision"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw the protagonist undertake a wandering trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, meeting with wonder and risk on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in motion, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the church's ruling body, and Pullman's deliciously chilling incarnation of rigid, administrative evil – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's relative, who faults her for his family member's death – has positioned himself into the role of president of the authority's governing body, and is determined on using his newfound influence to expand the church's dominium. A key character, who saved young the heroine to security along a overflowing Thames as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a secondary role in intelligence work: he is sent to the city to discover more about his plans. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the uncommon and costly essential oil which seems in some way to be the origin of a social and economic crisis emanating out from that area. The oil is regarded by various factions as a tradeable product, by alternate groups as a research-based or spiritual wonder, and by others still – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a source of malevolence; an affront that must be destroyed. The question of its source, its significance, and whether it should be removed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
Similar to the original trilogy, our protagonist's decisions, and her fate, are demonstrated to be inextricably linked with the fate of the universe
In its predecessor, these storylines ran broadly in side by side. In the conclusion, they converge. As in the original series, the protagonist's actions and her fate are revealed to be inextricably linked with the fate of the realm. Her personal mission to reconnect with her companion and recover her creativity becomes the central battleground in a broader war with an oppressive system which, as these systems often attempt, is seeking to stifle independence of thinking, originality and culture: all the inner, defiant ways in which humans can be independent.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The novel opens with the unveiling of a set of strange cracks in the fabric of the Earth's sky: windows that appear to give on to other worlds. A particular portal seems to be the origin of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its helm, labels these windows as a threat to the religion's doctrine and sets out to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to move from inflexible reason and return to instinct, yet, her certainty that these places must be defended – that what they stand for and what they offer is mysteriously crucial – strengthens. "Dust, or the substance, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or whatever we call it," she says, "we require it." The setting for a philosophical tussle between naivety and knowledge is prepared.
Story Tempo and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
