Tings are unraveling in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of the author's masterful trilogies set in a world that appears, in this volume especially, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or reassembling themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from states, and pooling in the chambers of theocrats, the treasuries of business empires, the grasp of rioters. "An element is at work, very quietly, gradually", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a watchful eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were firm and durable are weakening and failing."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that animates The Rose Field, which continues where the previous book concluded. This is, by all accounts, the author's last venture into the elaborately built, deeply captivating realm he first revealed three decades past, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose terrain maps on to that of our world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the humans appear and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by daemons, beings in beast form; where the skies are filled with witches and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, vehicles are taken and beverages is consumed, and middle-aged professors carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in the first volume, the prequel with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still distinctly the spiky and tenacious main character of the previous installments, but older, more sorrowful, more careful, less sure. This limitation is heightened by her separation from her animal guide, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the cause which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
The daemon's resolve to leave in search of that youthful part of her which she appears to have shed (an quality which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which followed Lyra undertake a adventurous trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with marvel and danger on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in play, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the religious ruling body, and Pullman's deliciously chilling representation of austere, bureaucratic malice – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – our protagonist's uncle, who blames her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the office of leader of the Magisterium's governing body, and is set on using his newfound power to extend the religion's dominium. A key character, who rescued young the heroine to safety along a flooded river as an child in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in espionage: he is assigned to a key location to find out more about the antagonist's aims. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and precious botanical extract which seems mysteriously to be the origin of a societal and financial disturbance spreading out from the region. The extract is seen by certain groups as a tradeable commodity, by alternate groups as a empirical or mystical miracle, and by yet others – the extremist "mountain dwellers" – as a wellspring of evil; an affront that must be eradicated. The issue of where it comes from, its meaning, and if it should be removed or protected is becoming urgent.
Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's actions, and her fate, are revealed to be inextricably linked with the future of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran broadly in parallel. In this final book, they merge. Like the first trilogy, her movements and her fate are shown to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the realm. Her individual journey to reconnect with her daemon and recover her imagination becomes the primary conflict in a wider battle with an oppressive government which, as such regimes typically do, is striving to suppress autonomy of thought, creativity and art: all the inner, defiant ways in which people can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The novel starts with the discovery of a collection of curious fissures in the fabric of the planet's sky: windows that seem to lead to alternate realities. A particular window seems to be the origin of the highly contested botanical substance. The authority, with its leader at its leadership, classifies these openings as a challenge to the institution's beliefs and aims to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to shift from strict rationalism and back to instinct, however, her belief that these places must be defended – that their significance and what they provide is in some way vital – grows. "The substance, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or whatever we label it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a philosophical conflict between innocence and maturity is established.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
