Things are collapsing in the last installment of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that manifests, here more than ever, as a intense and slanted version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or restructuring themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from authorities, and accumulating in the offices of theocrats, the coffers of corporations, the grasp of crowds. "Some force is at work, silently, very subtly", says businessman a merchant figure, keeping a watchful eye on the Silk Roads from his place in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and strong are deteriorating and collapsing."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that propels this final volume, which resumes where the previous book left off. This is, by all accounts, the author's concluding excursion into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting realm he first unveiled three decades past, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose geography maps on to that of our world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the people look and think and act like us, but are paired by daemons, beings in beast form; where the skies are filled with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, vehicles are ridden and beverages is drunk, and older scholars carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first met as a child in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the origin story with which the author began the series, is now a mature individual: still clearly the spiky and tenacious protagonist of the previous installments, but aged, more sorrowful, more careful, less sure. This restraint is heightened by her separation from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to leave in search of that innocent part of her which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he represents as her "vision"), and her mission to reunite with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which followed Lyra undertake a adventurous voyage across Europe and into the mountain region, encountering with marvel and risk on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in action, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the religious governing authority, and Pullman's masterfully eerie embodiment of rigid, procedural evil – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's relative, who blames her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the role of leader of the Magisterium's governing body, and is set on using his newfound power to extend the religion's rule. Another protagonist, who saved baby Lyra to security along a swollen river as an child in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a secondary role in spycraft: he is dispatched to Geneva to discover more about Delamare's plans. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and valuable rose oil which appears somehow to be the cause of a social and economic disturbance spreading out from the region. The substance is seen by some as a tradeable commodity, by others as a scientific or spiritual miracle, and by others still – the zealous "highland figures" – as a source of evil; an challenge that must be obliterated. The question of where it comes from, what it stands for, and if it should be eliminated or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
Similar to the original trilogy, Lyra's actions, and her future, are revealed to be deeply entwined with the future of the universe
In its predecessor, these narratives ran broadly in parallel. In The Rose Field, they merge. As in His Dark Materials, the protagonist's movements and her path are unveiled to be inextricably woven with the fate of the world. Her individual journey to rejoin with her companion and rediscover her creativity becomes the primary struggle in a wider battle with an authoritarian system which, as such regimes always have, is attempting to quell autonomy of thought, creativity and art: all the personal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The book starts with the discovery of a series of strange cracks in the structure of the planet's atmosphere: portals that seem to lead to alternate realities. One such portal manifests to be the origin of the much debated mystical extract. The church, with Delamare at its head, classifies these openings as a problem to the institution's doctrine and sets out to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to turn away from inflexible reason and back to instinct, nevertheless, her belief that these sites must be preserved – that what they stand for and what they offer is in some way crucial – grows. "Cosmic particles, or the substance, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or whatever we call it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a philosophical tussle between naivety and knowledge is established.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
