Tings are collapsing in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the second of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a realm that seems, now more than ever, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Institutions are failing, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Power is draining from authorities, and accumulating in the offices of religious leaders, the vaults of conglomerates, the grasp of mobs. "Some force is at work, stealthily, very subtly", says businessman a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and durable are deteriorating and collapsing."
The Central Mystery and Her Quest
Exactly what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that propels The Rose Field, which picks up where the previous book left off. This is, according to many, the author's final foray into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling world he first unveiled in the distant past, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose terrain corresponds to that of this world, but whose past diverges and shifts with ours; where the people look and reason and act like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, essences in beast form; where the heavens are filled with witches and legendary creatures, but below, transports are ridden and drinks is drunk, and mature professors carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a child in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the prequel, the prequel with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a adult: still clearly the prickly and determined protagonist of the earlier books, but older, sadder, warier, more doubtful. This restraint is intensified by her division from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
The daemon's resolve to go off in search of that youthful part of her which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which followed Lyra undertake a adventurous journey across Europe and into the Caucasus, encountering with wonder and risk on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in motion, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the faith's governing authority, and Pullman's deliciously chilling representation of rigid, administrative wickedness – is under new leadership, and asserting its power. The antagonist – Lyra's uncle, who faults her for his sister's death – has positioned himself into the role of head of the church's governing body, and is set on using his fresh power to broaden the institution's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued young Lyra to safety along a swollen Thames as an young boy in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in spycraft: he is sent to a key location to learn more about Delamare's aims. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and valuable essential oil which seems in some way to be the origin of a social and financial disturbance emanating out from that area. The extract is viewed by various factions as a commercial good, by different parties as a empirical or mystical miracle, and by yet others – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a source of evil; an insult that must be destroyed. The issue of its origins, its significance, and if it should be destroyed or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in the original trilogy, Lyra's decisions, and her future, are demonstrated to be deeply entwined with the future of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran largely in parallel. In this final book, they converge. As in His Dark Materials, Lyra's actions and her fate are revealed to be inextricably linked with the destiny of the world. Her personal quest to reconnect with her companion and recover her creativity becomes the central conflict in a wider conflict with an oppressive system which, as such authorities typically do, is striving to suppress freedom of thinking, originality and culture: all the personal, resistant ways in which individuals can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Moral Battles
The novel starts with the unveiling of a collection of unusual openings in the makeup of the world's air: windows that seem to give on to alternate realities. An example of a portal manifests to be the point of the highly contested rose oil. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its head, labels these portals as a problem to the religion's beliefs and endeavors to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to move from rigid reason and revert to instinct, yet, her certainty that these sites must be protected – that their meaning and what they provide is mysteriously crucial – grows. "Dust, or rose oil, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a poetic struggle between purity and maturity is established.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
