Things are falling apart in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that appears, in this volume especially, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Power is shifting from governments, and gathering in the offices of theocrats, the vaults of business empires, the grasp of crowds. "Some force is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a observant eye on the Silk Roads from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and durable are faltering and failing."
The Central Mystery and Her Quest
Just what that something might be, and ways to oppose it, is the question that propels the concluding book, which picks up where the previous book ended. This is, by all accounts, the author's last venture into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating realm he first revealed three decades past, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose geography aligns with that of the real world, but whose past diverges and shifts with ours; where the people look and think and behave like us, but are paired by external spirits, beings in creature form; where the air are teeming with enchantresses and gryphons, but below, vehicles are ridden and tea is consumed, and middle-aged academics carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first encountered as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in the first volume, the introductory book with which the author began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still clearly the spiky and determined main character of the prior volumes, but aged, sadder, more cautious, less certain. This restraint is heightened by her separation from her animal guide, her daemon – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
Pan's decision to leave in search of that childlike part of the heroine which she appears to have shed (an trait which he symbolizes as her "creativity"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which saw Lyra undertake a picaresque journey across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with marvel and peril on the way. But from the start, underlying forces were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the church's ruling body, and the author's brilliantly sinister incarnation of strict, bureaucratic evil – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – our protagonist's uncle, who blames her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the role of leader of the authority's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his fresh power to expand the institution's control. Another protagonist, who carried infant the heroine to safety along a swollen river as an young boy in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is sent to a key location to discover more about his aims. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and costly rose oil which appears mysteriously to be the source of a social and economic upheaval emanating out from the region. The oil is viewed by certain groups as a commercial good, by alternate groups as a scientific or esoteric wonder, and by others still – the extremist "men from the mountains" – as a source of evil; an insult that must be obliterated. The issue of its source, its significance, and if it should be eliminated or protected is becoming urgent.
Similar to His Dark Materials, the heroine's deeds, and her destiny, are revealed to be deeply entwined with the fate of the realm
In the previous volume, these plots ran mostly in side by side. In The Rose Field, they merge. Like His Dark Materials, her actions and her path are shown to be inseparably entwined with the future of the world. Her individual quest to reconnect with her companion and regain her imagination becomes the central struggle in a wider conflict with an controlling system which, as such regimes often attempt, is seeking to suppress autonomy of reason, innovation and expression: all the internal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be independent.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The novel begins with the unveiling of a collection of curious cracks in the structure of the Earth's air: windows that seem to give on to alternate realities. A particular window manifests to be the origin of the highly contested botanical substance. The church, with the antagonist at its head, labels these portals as a threat to the institution's beliefs and sets out to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to shift from rigid logic and return to feeling, yet, her certainty that these places must be protected – that what they stand for and what they provide is in some way essential – strengthens. "Dust, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or no matter what we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The stage for a philosophical tussle between innocence and maturity is set.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
