Tings are unraveling in the last installment of The Book of Dust, the next of the author's grand trilogies set in a universe that appears, in this volume especially, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Organizations are failing, or restructuring themselves along new and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Power is draining from governments, and gathering in the chambers of religious leaders, the coffers of business empires, the grasp of rioters. "Some force is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says trader a trader character, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his place in an city cafe. "Things we thought were firm and solid are faltering and failing."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Just what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that propels this final volume, which continues where the previous book left off. This is, by all accounts, the author's final foray into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating world he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a world whose terrain corresponds to that of our world, but whose past diverges and shifts with ours; where the people appear and reason and act like us, but are joined by daemons, essences in beast form; where the skies are populated with enchantresses and gryphons, but beneath those skies, transports are taken and tea is consumed, and middle-aged scholars carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first encountered as a young girl in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a baby in the first volume, the prequel with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still distinctly the spiky and persistent protagonist of the earlier books, but older, sadder, warier, more doubtful. This restraint is intensified by her split from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to go off in quest of that childlike part of her which she appears to have shed (an trait which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her mission to reunite with him, were the driving forces of the prior book, which saw the protagonist undertake a picaresque journey across Europe and into the mountain region, encountering with marvel and danger on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the church's governing authority, and Pullman's masterfully eerie representation of austere, administrative wickedness – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – our protagonist's uncle, who faults her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the office of leader of the authority's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his newfound power to broaden the religion's control. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued young the heroine to security along a overflowing river as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in espionage: he is dispatched to a key location to learn more about the antagonist's intentions. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the rare and valuable rose oil which seems in some way to be the cause of a social and economic disturbance emanating out from that area. The oil is viewed by various factions as a tradeable product, by alternate groups as a research-based or spiritual wonder, and by others still – the extremist "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of evil; an insult that must be obliterated. The dilemma of where it comes from, its significance, and if it should be eliminated or preserved is escalating in importance.
As in the original trilogy, Lyra's decisions, and her fate, are revealed to be inextricably linked with the future of the world
In its predecessor, these plots ran mostly in side by side. In The Rose Field, they come together. Similar to the first trilogy, her actions and her destiny are revealed to be inextricably linked with the future of the universe. Her private mission to reunite with her daemon and regain her creativity becomes the key battleground in a broader war with an controlling regime which, as such regimes typically do, is seeking to stifle independence of thought, originality and culture: all the personal, rebellious ways in which people can be independent.
Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles
The book starts with the finding of a collection of unusual cracks in the fabric of the planet's atmosphere: portals that appear to give on to other worlds. An example of a window appears to be the source of the much debated botanical substance. The Magisterium, with its leader at its leadership, designates these portals as a problem to the religion's doctrine and endeavors to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to shift from strict rationalism and back to intuition, yet, her conviction that these places must be defended – that their significance and what they offer is somehow vital – increases. "Dust, or rose oil, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a philosophical conflict between innocence and experience is established.
Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
