Tings are falling apart in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the next of the author's masterful trilogies set in a universe that appears, in this volume especially, as a energized and slanted version of our own. Organizations are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along new and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from states, and gathering in the offices of religious leaders, the coffers of corporations, the control of rioters. "Some force is at work, silently, very subtly", says merchant a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and solid are weakening and giving way."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that something might be, and how to counteract it, is the mystery that animates The Rose Field, which continues where its predecessor ended. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's last venture into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling world he first revealed in the distant past, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a realm whose landscape aligns with that of the real world, but whose chronicles tacks and jibes with ours; where the people look and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, souls in animal form; where the heavens are filled with sorceresses and gryphons, but underneath, buses are caught and tea is drunk, and older academics carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in the first volume, the origin story with which Pullman began the series, is now a adult: still clearly the sharp and tenacious protagonist of the prior volumes, but more mature, more sorrowful, warier, less sure. This limitation is amplified by her split from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to leave in pursuit of that youthful part of her which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the driving forces of The Secret Commonwealth, which chronicled Lyra undertake a wandering journey across Europe and into the Caucasus, encountering with wonder and danger on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the religious controlling power, and the author's deliciously chilling incarnation of rigid, administrative evil – is under fresh command, and asserting its power. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's family member, who blames her for his family member's death – has positioned himself into the position of president of the Magisterium's High Council, and is set on using his recently acquired authority to expand the religion's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who carried baby Lyra to security along a swollen Thames as an young boy in the first book, is now an academic with a additional duty in espionage: he is assigned to the city to find out more about the antagonist's plans. And beneath all of this is the puzzle surrounding the uncommon and valuable botanical extract which seems mysteriously to be the source of a social and financial crisis emanating out from Central Asia. The oil is regarded by various factions as a tradeable commodity, by others as a scientific or esoteric wonder, and by yet others – the zealous "highland figures" – as a source of darkness; an insult that must be destroyed. The dilemma of where it comes from, its meaning, and whether it should be destroyed or preserved is becoming urgent.
Similar to His Dark Materials, Lyra's deeds, and her destiny, are demonstrated to be inseparably connected with the fate of the world
In its predecessor, these plots ran largely in parallel. In this final book, they come together. As in the original series, the protagonist's actions and her fate are revealed to be inextricably linked with the future of the realm. Her private mission to rejoin with her soul and regain her creativity becomes the central conflict in a larger conflict with an controlling system which, as such regimes often attempt, is attempting to stifle independence of thought, innovation and art: all the internal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be free.
Cosmic Openings and Philosophical Struggles
The book opens with the finding of a set of strange openings in the makeup of the world's atmosphere: gateways that appear to give on to different dimensions. One such opening seems to be the source of the much debated botanical substance. The church, with Delamare at its head, designates these openings as a challenge to the church's doctrine and sets out to eradicate them. As Lyra begins to move from rigid reason and revert to intuition, however, her certainty that these locations must be preserved – that what they stand for and what they offer is mysteriously vital – grows. "Dust, or the extract, or the vision, or the field of roses, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a poetic tussle between innocence and maturity is prepared.
Narrative Pacing and Character Development
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
