Things are unraveling in the last installment of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that appears, now more than ever, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Institutions are weakening, or restructuring themselves along novel and troubling 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 pooling in the offices of religious leaders, the coffers of corporations, the hands of mobs. "Something is at work, silently, very subtly", says merchant a trader character, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his seat in an city cafe. "Things we thought were stable and durable are deteriorating and failing."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that animates this final volume, which continues where its predecessor concluded. This is, reportedly, the author's concluding foray into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting realm he first revealed 30 years ago, with the launch of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose geography aligns with that of our world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the individuals appear and reason and act like us, but are joined by animal souls, essences in creature form; where the skies are teeming with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but below, buses are caught and drinks is drunk, and older scholars carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a baby in the prequel, the prequel with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a young woman: still clearly the sharp and determined heroine of the prior volumes, but aged, sadder, warier, less certain. This restraint is intensified by her division from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to go off in search of that childlike part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an quality which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled Lyra undertake a adventurous voyage across the continent and into the Caucasus, meeting with marvel and danger on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the religious controlling power, and the author's masterfully eerie representation of rigid, procedural evil – is under recent guidance, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's uncle, who blames her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of leader of the authority's High Council, and is intent on using his fresh power to broaden the religion's control. A key character, who saved baby Lyra to security along a overflowing river as an child in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is sent to a key location to find out more about the antagonist's intentions. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and costly botanical extract which seems somehow to be the cause of a societal and financial crisis emanating out from Central Asia. The oil is viewed by some as a tradeable good, by others as a empirical or spiritual wonder, and by others still – the zealous "highland figures" – as a source of darkness; an affront that must be eradicated. The issue of its source, what it stands for, and whether it should be destroyed or protected is becoming urgent.
As in the original trilogy, the heroine's deeds, and her fate, are shown to be inseparably entwined with the future of the realm
In its predecessor, these storylines ran broadly in parallel. In this final book, they converge. Like His Dark Materials, Lyra's movements and her destiny are unveiled to be inextricably linked with the destiny of the world. Her private quest to reunite with her daemon and rediscover her creativity becomes the key struggle in a larger war with an authoritarian system which, as these systems often attempt, is attempting to quell autonomy of thinking, innovation and culture: all the inner, rebellious ways in which humans can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The story opens with the discovery of a series of unusual fissures in the structure of the planet's atmosphere: gateways that look to open into other worlds. An example of a opening appears to be the source of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its helm, labels these portals as a challenge to the church's doctrine and sets out to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to move from inflexible rationalism and back to intuition, however, her conviction that these locations must be defended – that their significance and what they offer is somehow crucial – strengthens. "The substance, or rose oil, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a poetic conflict between naivety and experience is set.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
