Things are falling apart in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a universe that seems, now more than ever, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Organizations are failing, or reassembling themselves along new and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from authorities, and gathering in the halls of theocrats, the vaults of conglomerates, the control of mobs. "Something is at work, stealthily, gradually", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his post in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and strong are deteriorating and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and Her Quest
Just what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that animates the concluding book, which picks up where its predecessor concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final venture into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting universe he first revealed in the distant past, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose geography maps on to that of this world, but whose chronicles diverges and shifts with ours; where the people appear and reason and act like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, beings in creature form; where the air are filled with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but below, buses are taken and tea is sipped, and older professors carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a baby in the prequel, the introductory book with which the author began the series, is now a young woman: still recognisably the prickly and persistent heroine of the previous installments, but aged, more sorrowful, warier, less certain. This limitation is heightened by her separation from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the cause which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
The daemon's resolve to depart in quest of that youthful part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an trait which he symbolizes as her "creativity"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which saw the protagonist undertake a adventurous voyage across Europe and into the mountain region, encountering with marvel and risk on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in action, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the religious controlling power, and Pullman's masterfully eerie embodiment of austere, administrative malice – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. The antagonist – our protagonist's relative, who holds responsible her for his sibling's death – has worked himself into the position of leader of the church's governing body, and is intent on using his recently acquired influence to broaden the church's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who carried 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 dispatched to Geneva to learn more about his plans. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and precious botanical extract which manifests mysteriously to be the origin of a social and financial disturbance emanating out from that area. The substance is seen by some as a tradeable commodity, by alternate groups as a research-based or esoteric wonder, and by yet others – the extremist "highland figures" – as a source of evil; an challenge that must be destroyed. The question of its origins, what it stands for, and if it should be removed or safeguarded is coming rapidly to the fore.
Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's actions, and her fate, are shown to be deeply linked with the fate of the world
In its predecessor, these storylines ran largely in tandem. In the conclusion, they merge. Similar to the original series, her choices and her path are unveiled to be inextricably woven with the fate of the universe. Her individual quest to reunite with her soul and recover her creativity becomes the central battleground in a broader war with an controlling system which, as such regimes typically do, is seeking to suppress autonomy of reason, originality and culture: all the inner, defiant ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The book begins with the finding of a collection of strange fissures in the structure of the world's atmosphere: windows that seem to lead to alternate realities. One such window appears to be the origin of the highly contested rose oil. The authority, with the antagonist at its helm, classifies these portals as a threat to the institution's doctrine and aims to eradicate them. As our protagonist begins to turn away from strict logic and revert to feeling, nevertheless, her certainty that these locations must be protected – that their significance and what they offer is mysteriously crucial – increases. "Dust, or the substance, or the imagination, or the field of roses, or whatever we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a philosophical struggle between naivety and knowledge is established.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
