Things are falling apart in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the next of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a realm that manifests, now more than ever, as a charged and slanted version of our own. Institutions are failing, or restructuring themselves along new and troubling lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from authorities, and accumulating in the offices of theocrats, the coffers of corporations, the grasp of crowds. "Something is at work, silently, gradually", says merchant a trader character, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and solid are faltering and giving way."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that force might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that drives The Rose Field, which continues where its predecessor ended. This is, by all accounts, the author's final excursion into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling world he first revealed in the distant past, with the launch of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose landscape maps on to that of the real world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the humans look and reason and behave like us, but are joined by external spirits, essences in creature form; where the heavens are filled with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, buses are taken and beverages is sipped, and middle-aged professors carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first introduced to as a child in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in the prequel, the introductory book with which the author began the series, is now a adult: still recognisably the spiky and determined main character of the earlier books, but aged, sadder, more careful, less sure. This restraint is intensified by her split from her daemon, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
His choice to depart in quest of that childlike part of her which she appears to have shed (an trait which he represents as her "creativity"), and her mission to reconnect with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a picaresque trek across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with wonder and risk on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in motion, and malevolent elements at work. The religious council – the church's governing authority, and the author's brilliantly sinister embodiment of austere, bureaucratic malice – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's family member, who holds responsible her for his sibling's death – has positioned himself into the role of leader of the church's ruling assembly, and is intent on using his newfound power to extend the church's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who saved infant the heroine to refuge along a swollen Thames as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an Oxford don with a sideline in intelligence work: he is assigned to the city to learn more about Delamare's intentions. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the rare and costly rose oil which seems in some way to be the source of a social and financial crisis emanating out from the region. The oil is seen by various factions as a tradeable good, by different parties as a scientific or spiritual phenomenon, and by further factions – the zealous "highland figures" – as a wellspring of darkness; an challenge that must be destroyed. The issue of where it comes from, what it stands for, and whether it should be eliminated or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
Similar to the first series, Lyra's deeds, and her destiny, are shown to be deeply connected with the destiny of the world
In its predecessor, these storylines ran mostly in side by side. In this final book, they converge. Similar to His Dark Materials, her choices and her fate are unveiled to be inextricably linked with the fate of the world. Her private quest to rejoin with her daemon and rediscover her vision becomes the primary conflict in a larger conflict with an oppressive government which, as such authorities typically do, is striving to suppress independence of thinking, innovation and culture: all the internal, rebellious ways in which humans can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Ideological Conflicts
The story opens with the unveiling of a series of unusual fissures in the makeup of the planet's sky: portals that appear to give on to different dimensions. An example of a window appears to be the point of the highly contested rose oil. The authority, with its leader at its helm, labels these openings as a threat to the church's doctrine and aims to eliminate them. As Lyra begins to shift from strict reason and back to feeling, yet, her belief that these locations must be protected – that their meaning and what they provide is somehow vital – strengthens. "Dust, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a philosophical struggle between purity and maturity is established.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
