Tings are falling apart in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the next of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that seems, in this volume especially, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or restructuring themselves along new and disquieting lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Control is draining from states, and gathering in the halls of theocrats, the coffers of corporations, the control of crowds. "Some force is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says businessman a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and strong are deteriorating and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Precisely what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that propels The Rose Field, which continues where the previous book concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's last foray into the elaborately built, infinitely beguiling world he first revealed in the distant past, with the launch of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose terrain aligns with that of this world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the individuals look and think and act like us, but are joined by daemons, beings in creature form; where the heavens are filled with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, buses are caught and drinks is consumed, and middle-aged professors carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in the prequel, the introductory book with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a adult: still clearly the spiky and persistent protagonist of the prior volumes, but more mature, more sorrowful, warier, less sure. This circumscription is heightened by her division from her animal guide, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to leave in pursuit of that childlike part of the heroine which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he represents as her "imagination"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which followed Lyra undertake a wandering journey across Europe and into the Caucasus, facing with marvel and danger on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the faith's governing authority, and the author's deliciously chilling embodiment of rigid, procedural malice – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's family member, who faults her for his family member's death – has positioned himself into the position of president of the Magisterium's High Council, and is determined on using his recently acquired authority to broaden the church's rule. Another protagonist, who carried baby Lyra to refuge along a swollen Thames as an child in the prequel, is now an academic with a sideline in intelligence work: he is dispatched to the city to find out more about the antagonist's intentions. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the uncommon and precious botanical extract which appears in some way to be the origin of a societal and financial upheaval emanating out from that area. The substance is regarded by some as a tradeable good, by alternate groups as a empirical or esoteric wonder, and by yet others – the extremist "mountain dwellers" – as a wellspring of evil; an insult that must be obliterated. The issue of where it comes from, its significance, and whether it should be eliminated or preserved is coming rapidly to the fore.
Like the original trilogy, the heroine's deeds, and her destiny, are shown to be deeply entwined with the fate of the realm
In the previous volume, these plots ran largely in parallel. In this final book, they converge. As in His Dark Materials, Lyra's movements and her fate are unveiled to be deeply entwined with the future of the realm. Her private quest to rejoin with her daemon and rediscover her vision becomes the primary battleground in a larger war with an authoritarian government which, as these systems typically do, is seeking to suppress freedom of thought, creativity and expression: all the personal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Moral Battles
The novel begins with the discovery of a collection of curious openings in the fabric of the world's sky: gateways that look to lead to alternate realities. One such window appears to be the point of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its helm, designates these portals as a problem to the institution's doctrine and endeavors to destroy them. As our protagonist begins to turn away from strict reason and revert to feeling, however, her belief that these places must be protected – that their significance and their value is somehow crucial – strengthens. "The substance, or the substance, or the vision, or the Rose Field, or whatever we name it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a poetic struggle between naivety and experience is set.
Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
