Tings are unraveling in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a universe that manifests, in this volume especially, as a intense and tilted version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from governments, and pooling in the halls of theocrats, the treasuries of conglomerates, the control of rioters. "Some force is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says businessman a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were secure and solid are deteriorating and failing."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Exactly what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that drives the concluding book, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, reportedly, Pullman's last venture into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting world he first revealed 30 years ago, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose landscape maps on to that of this world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the people look and think and act like us, but are paired by external spirits, souls in beast form; where the skies are populated with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but underneath, transports are taken and drinks is consumed, and middle-aged professors carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in the prequel, the introductory book with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still distinctly the spiky and tenacious main character of the earlier books, but more mature, sadder, warier, less sure. This limitation is heightened by her separation from her animal guide, her daemon – but it was also, paradoxically, the cause which led him to leave her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
His choice to leave in pursuit of that youthful part of the heroine which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a picaresque trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with amazement and risk on the way. But from the beginning, deeper currents were in motion, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the faith's governing authority, and the author's deliciously chilling incarnation of rigid, procedural malice – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – Lyra's uncle, who blames her for his family member's death – has positioned himself into the role of leader of the church's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his fresh authority to extend the church's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who saved infant the heroine to security along a flooded Thames as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an Oxford don with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is sent to a key location to learn more about his intentions. And beneath all of this is the puzzle surrounding the uncommon and valuable essential oil which manifests somehow to be the source of a social and financial crisis rippling out from the region. The substance is viewed by various factions as a tradeable commodity, by different parties as a scientific or spiritual wonder, and by further factions – the zealous "highland figures" – as a wellspring of evil; an insult that must be obliterated. The dilemma of where it comes from, its significance, and if it should be eliminated or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
Similar to His Dark Materials, our protagonist's actions, and her destiny, are revealed to be inseparably linked with the fate of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these storylines ran mostly in parallel. In this final book, they merge. As in the original series, the protagonist's choices and her destiny are revealed to be deeply linked with the future of the world. Her private quest to reconnect with her companion and rediscover her creativity becomes the key conflict in a broader battle with an authoritarian system which, as such authorities typically do, is seeking to suppress autonomy of thinking, creativity and expression: all the internal, defiant ways in which individuals can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The book begins with the unveiling of a collection of unusual cracks in the structure of the Earth's air: portals that appear to open into alternate realities. One such portal manifests to be the source of the much debated botanical substance. The Magisterium, with its leader at its helm, labels these openings as a problem to the institution's beliefs and aims to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to move from strict rationalism and return to feeling, nevertheless, her certainty that these places must be protected – that what they stand for and what they provide is in some way essential – strengthens. "The substance, or the substance, or the vision, or the field of roses, or whatever we call it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a philosophical conflict between innocence and maturity is established.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
