Tings are falling apart in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that seems, in this volume especially, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or restructuring themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is flowing away from authorities, and accumulating in the halls of religious leaders, the coffers of conglomerates, the grasp of crowds. "An element is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and strong are weakening and giving way."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that animates The Rose Field, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, reportedly, the author's concluding excursion into the elaborately built, endlessly enchanting world he first unveiled in the distant past, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose terrain aligns with that of this world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the people look and think and behave like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, souls in beast form; where the air are filled with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but below, vehicles are caught and beverages is drunk, and middle-aged scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a infant in La Belle Sauvage, the origin story with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the spiky and tenacious heroine of the previous installments, but aged, sadder, warier, less sure. This circumscription is intensified by her split from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which made him desert her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
His choice to depart in quest of that childlike part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an trait which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which saw Lyra undertake a picaresque trek across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with wonder and risk on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in motion, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the church's controlling power, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister incarnation of rigid, bureaucratic malice – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – our protagonist's relative, who blames her for his sister's death – has manoeuvred himself into the office of leader of the authority's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his fresh authority to extend the church's rule. Another protagonist, who carried baby the heroine to safety along a overflowing river as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an academic with a additional duty in spycraft: he is dispatched to Geneva to discover more about the antagonist's plans. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and valuable botanical extract which manifests somehow to be the cause of a social and financial upheaval spreading out from the region. The extract is seen by various factions as a tradeable good, by others as a empirical or spiritual wonder, and by further factions – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a wellspring of darkness; an challenge that must be obliterated. The dilemma of its origins, its significance, and whether it should be destroyed or protected is escalating in importance.
Like the first series, our protagonist's actions, and her destiny, are shown to be inextricably connected with the destiny of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran largely in side by side. In the conclusion, they merge. Similar to His Dark Materials, the protagonist's choices and her destiny are unveiled to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the world. Her personal journey to reunite with her soul and regain her vision becomes the primary conflict in a wider war with an controlling system which, as these systems always have, is attempting to quell autonomy of thinking, originality and art: all the personal, resistant ways in which people can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The novel opens with the unveiling of a collection of unusual cracks in the structure of the planet's air: portals that seem to lead to other worlds. An example of a window seems to be the source of the much debated rose oil. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its head, classifies these openings as a threat to the religion's orthodoxy and aims to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to shift from strict rationalism and return to feeling, nevertheless, her belief that these locations must be defended – that their meaning and their value is somehow crucial – increases. "The substance, or the extract, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or whatever we label it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a Blakean tussle between purity and experience is established.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
