Things are falling apart in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a world that appears, in this volume especially, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An invisible force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from states, and gathering in the offices of theocrats, the coffers of corporations, the hands of mobs. "Some force is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says trader a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his post in an city cafe. "Things we thought were secure and strong are weakening and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that animates the concluding book, which resumes where its predecessor concluded. This is, reportedly, the author's final excursion into the elaborately built, endlessly enchanting universe he first revealed three decades past, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a world whose geography aligns with that of our world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and think and act like us, but are paired by daemons, essences in creature form; where the air are filled with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but underneath, vehicles are ridden and beverages is sipped, and mature professors carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a young girl in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in the first volume, the prequel with which the author began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still recognisably the prickly and determined protagonist of the prior volumes, but aged, melancholic, warier, less sure. This limitation is amplified by her division from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to depart in search of that innocent part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he represents as her "imagination"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed the protagonist undertake a wandering trek across Europe and into the Caucasus, facing with marvel and risk on the way. But from the start, underlying forces were in play, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the faith's ruling body, and Pullman's masterfully eerie representation of strict, procedural malice – is under new leadership, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's relative, who blames her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of leader of the Magisterium's High Council, and is intent on using his newfound power to expand the religion's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued baby the heroine to refuge along a overflowing Thames as an young boy in the first book, is now an academic with a sideline in spycraft: he is sent to Geneva to learn more about Delamare's intentions. And beneath all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and costly botanical extract which manifests mysteriously to be the source of a societal and financial upheaval emanating out from that area. The substance is regarded by certain groups as a tradeable product, by others as a research-based or spiritual wonder, and by others still – the extremist "mountain dwellers" – as a source of evil; an challenge that must be obliterated. The question of its origins, its meaning, and whether it should be removed or protected is becoming urgent.
Like His Dark Materials, Lyra's decisions, and her future, are shown to be inextricably entwined with the future of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran broadly in tandem. In The Rose Field, they come together. As in the original series, her choices and her destiny are revealed to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the universe. Her private mission to reunite with her companion and recover her creativity becomes the central conflict in a larger conflict with an oppressive regime which, as these systems always have, is seeking to stifle autonomy of reason, innovation and expression: all the personal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The novel starts with the discovery of a series of unusual cracks in the fabric of the Earth's atmosphere: gateways that look to lead to other worlds. An example of a window seems to be the source of the much debated mystical extract. The church, with its leader at its helm, designates these portals as a challenge to the institution's beliefs and sets out to eradicate them. As our protagonist begins to move from rigid rationalism and back to intuition, yet, her belief that these locations must be defended – that their meaning and what they provide is mysteriously vital – grows. "The substance, or the substance, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or whatever we label it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a Blakean conflict between naivety and experience is set.
Story Tempo and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
