Things are unraveling in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the next of the author's grand trilogies set in a universe that manifests, now more than ever, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Establishments are failing, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Control is shifting from states, and gathering in the halls of religious leaders, the vaults of corporations, the hands of crowds. "Something is at work, very quietly, imperceptibly", says businessman a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were secure and solid are faltering and giving way."
The Central Mystery and Her Quest
Exactly what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that animates this final volume, which resumes where the previous book left off. This is, according to many, the author's concluding foray into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling realm he first introduced three decades past, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a world whose landscape aligns with that of our world, but whose chronicles diverges and shifts with ours; where the people look and think and act like us, but are accompanied by external spirits, beings in animal form; where the air are filled with enchantresses and gryphons, but underneath, transports are caught and drinks is sipped, and middle-aged academics carry luxury shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in the prequel, the introductory book with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a young woman: still clearly the sharp and determined protagonist of the earlier books, but more mature, sadder, more cautious, less certain. This restraint is amplified by her division from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
His choice to go off in quest of that innocent part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a adventurous trek across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with amazement and danger on the way. But from the beginning, deeper currents were in motion, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the religious governing authority, and Pullman's masterfully eerie embodiment of rigid, administrative evil – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's family member, who blames her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of president of the church's ruling assembly, and is set on using his recently acquired influence to expand the religion's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued infant Lyra to security along a overflowing river as an young boy in the prequel, is now an academic with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is assigned to the city to find out more about his plans. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the uncommon and costly rose oil which manifests in some way to be the origin of a social and economic crisis rippling out from that area. The oil is regarded by various factions as a commercial commodity, by others as a scientific or spiritual wonder, and by further factions – the extremist "highland figures" – as a wellspring of darkness; an challenge that must be destroyed. The dilemma of its source, its significance, and whether it should be removed or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
Like His Dark Materials, the heroine's actions, and her destiny, are shown to be deeply linked with the fate of the realm
In the previous volume, these plots ran broadly in side by side. In The Rose Field, they converge. Like the original series, the protagonist's choices and her destiny are revealed to be inseparably woven with the destiny of the world. Her individual quest to reconnect with her companion and regain her creativity becomes the key battleground in a wider war with an oppressive system which, as such regimes always have, is striving to quell autonomy of reason, creativity and art: all the personal, rebellious ways in which people can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The novel opens with the finding of a collection of unusual openings in the makeup of the planet's air: windows that look to give on to alternate realities. One such portal appears to be the origin of the highly contested rose oil. The church, with Delamare at its leadership, classifies these windows as a challenge to the religion's beliefs and aims to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to move from inflexible reason and revert to instinct, however, her certainty that these sites must be protected – that their significance and their value is mysteriously essential – increases. "The substance, or the extract, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we require it." The scene for a Blakean struggle between purity and maturity is established.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
