Tings are falling apart in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a realm that manifests, here more than ever, as a intense and slanted version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from governments, and pooling in the halls of theocrats, the coffers of conglomerates, the grasp of crowds. "Some force is at work, very quietly, imperceptibly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and solid are faltering and failing."
The Central Mystery and Her Quest
Exactly what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that drives The Rose Field, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, according to many, the author's concluding venture into the intricately constructed, infinitely beguiling world he first unveiled in the distant past, with the publication of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose geography aligns with that of our world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the individuals appear and reason and act like us, but are paired by animal souls, souls in beast form; where the heavens are populated with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but beneath those skies, transports are taken and tea is drunk, and older professors carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which the author began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the sharp and tenacious main character of the prior volumes, but more mature, melancholic, more careful, less certain. This restraint is intensified by her division from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
The daemon's resolve to depart in search of that youthful part of her which she may have forgotten (an trait which he epitomises as her "vision"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a picaresque trek across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with marvel and peril on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the church's controlling power, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister embodiment of strict, procedural evil – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – our protagonist's family member, who faults her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the position of leader of the authority's High Council, and is intent on using his fresh power to broaden the institution's control. Malcolm Polstead, who saved young Lyra to security along a flooded river as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an university scholar with a sideline in spycraft: he is dispatched to the city to learn more about his aims. And behind all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and precious essential oil which seems in some way to be the source of a societal and financial crisis rippling out from Central Asia. The oil is seen by various factions as a marketable good, by different parties as a scientific or esoteric miracle, and by others still – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a source of darkness; an insult that must be eradicated. The dilemma of where it comes from, what it stands for, and if it should be destroyed or protected is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in the original trilogy, the heroine's actions, and her destiny, are revealed to be deeply connected with the destiny of the realm
In the previous volume, these plots ran mostly in tandem. In this final book, they converge. As in the first trilogy, the protagonist's choices and her destiny are revealed to be inseparably woven with the future of the universe. Her private journey to reconnect with her daemon and recover her imagination becomes the key battleground in a broader war with an controlling regime which, as these systems often attempt, is striving to stifle autonomy of thought, creativity and art: all the inner, rebellious ways in which humans can be free.
Dimensional Rifts and Moral Battles
The novel starts with the discovery of a collection of curious openings in the fabric of the world's atmosphere: windows that seem to lead to alternate realities. A particular opening seems to be the origin of the much debated botanical substance. The church, with the antagonist at its helm, labels these portals as a threat to the religion's beliefs and sets out to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to turn away from rigid reason and revert to intuition, yet, her conviction that these sites must be protected – that what they stand for and what they offer is in some way vital – strengthens. "Dust, or the substance, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a Blakean struggle between innocence and experience is set.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
