Tings are unraveling in the last installment of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that appears, now more than ever, as a intense and skewed version of our own. Institutions are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along new and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from states, and pooling in the chambers of theocrats, the coffers of corporations, the hands of crowds. "An element is at work, very quietly, gradually", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and durable are faltering and giving way."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Just what that element might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that animates this final volume, which resumes where its predecessor concluded. This is, according to many, Pullman's last venture into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling universe he first introduced 30 years ago, with the launch of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose geography aligns with that of this world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the people look and reason and act like us, but are joined by external spirits, beings in creature form; where the skies are filled with witches and mythical beasts, but below, vehicles are taken and beverages is consumed, and mature academics carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a child in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a baby in the first volume, the prequel with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still recognisably the spiky and tenacious main character of the previous installments, but more mature, sadder, warier, more doubtful. This circumscription is heightened by her division from her daemon, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to leave in pursuit of that innocent part of her which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her journey to reconnect with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which followed Lyra undertake a picaresque trek across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with wonder and risk on the way. But from the start, underlying forces were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the church's controlling power, and Pullman's masterfully eerie embodiment of strict, administrative malice – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. The antagonist – our protagonist's uncle, who faults her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of president of the authority's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his newfound authority to broaden the church's control. A key character, who saved baby the heroine to safety along a overflowing river as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a secondary role in espionage: he is sent to the city to find out more about the antagonist's aims. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and valuable botanical extract which appears somehow to be the cause of a social and financial disturbance rippling out from that area. The extract is regarded by certain groups as a tradeable product, by alternate groups as a research-based or mystical miracle, and by others still – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a source of darkness; an affront that must be eradicated. The issue of its origins, its significance, and if it should be eliminated or safeguarded is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in the original trilogy, Lyra's actions, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be inseparably entwined with the destiny of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran largely in side by side. In The Rose Field, they converge. Similar to the first trilogy, her choices and her fate are unveiled to be deeply linked with the fate of the realm. Her individual quest to reunite with her companion and recover her imagination becomes the primary struggle in a broader war with an oppressive regime which, as these systems typically do, is seeking to stifle freedom of thought, innovation and art: all the personal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The story begins with the unveiling of a collection of curious openings in the makeup of the planet's sky: gateways that appear to give on to other worlds. A particular portal seems to be the source of the highly contested mystical extract. The church, with Delamare at its head, classifies these portals as a challenge to the church's beliefs and aims to destroy them. As the heroine begins to turn away from strict reason and back to intuition, yet, her certainty that these locations must be defended – that what they stand for and what they offer is in some way vital – grows. "Dust, or the extract, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a poetic conflict between innocence and maturity is set.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
