Things are unraveling in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a world that manifests, now more than ever, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or reassembling themselves along new and troubling lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Power is draining from states, and accumulating in the chambers of theocrats, the coffers of conglomerates, the control of crowds. "Something is at work, silently, very subtly", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a watchful eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and solid are faltering and giving way."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the inquiry that animates the concluding book, which resumes where its predecessor left off. This is, according to many, the author's final venture into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating 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 the real world, but whose past veers and changes with ours; where the humans look and reason and behave like us, but are joined by animal souls, beings in beast form; where the heavens are teeming with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, buses are taken and tea is drunk, and middle-aged professors carry Harrods shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then saw again as a baby in the prequel, the origin story with which the author began the series, is now a mature individual: still clearly the prickly and persistent main character of the prior volumes, but more mature, more sorrowful, warier, less sure. This restraint is amplified by her split from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
His choice to depart in quest of that childlike part of her which she may have forgotten (an trait which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which followed Lyra undertake a adventurous trek across Europe and into the mountain region, encountering with amazement and risk on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in motion, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the religious ruling body, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister embodiment of rigid, procedural malice – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. The antagonist – the heroine's family member, who holds responsible her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the office of leader of the authority's governing body, and is intent on using his newfound authority to expand the institution's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who carried infant Lyra to safety along a overflowing river as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an academic with a additional duty in spycraft: he is assigned to Geneva to learn more about Delamare's aims. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the scarce and costly botanical extract which manifests somehow to be the cause of a social and economic upheaval emanating out from the region. The substance is viewed by certain groups as a tradeable product, by alternate groups as a research-based or esoteric wonder, and by yet others – the zealous "highland figures" – as a origin of malevolence; an affront that must be eradicated. The dilemma of where it comes from, what it stands for, and if it should be destroyed or protected is escalating in importance.
Like His Dark Materials, the heroine's actions, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be deeply entwined with the fate of the world
In the previous volume, these plots ran broadly in side by side. In this final book, they converge. Like the original series, the protagonist's movements and her destiny are shown to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the realm. Her personal mission to rejoin with her daemon and rediscover her creativity becomes the central battleground in a wider battle with an authoritarian system which, as these systems always have, is seeking to stifle autonomy of thought, originality and expression: all the personal, resistant ways in which people can be independent.
Dimensional Rifts and Ideological Conflicts
The novel starts with the discovery of a series of curious openings in the fabric of the world's sky: windows that appear to give on to other worlds. A particular window seems to be the origin of the fiercely disputed mystical extract. The authority, with its leader at its leadership, designates these portals as a threat to the religion's doctrine and sets out to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to shift from strict logic and return to feeling, nevertheless, her belief that these places must be defended – that their significance and their value is somehow vital – grows. "Dust, or the extract, or the imagination, or the Rose Field, or whatever we label it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a poetic tussle between innocence and knowledge is established.
Plot Rhythm and Character Development
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
