Things are falling apart in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a universe that appears, now more than ever, as a charged and slanted version of our own. Institutions are failing, or reassembling themselves along novel and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from authorities, and accumulating in the chambers of theocrats, the vaults of conglomerates, the hands of mobs. "Something is at work, silently, very subtly", says trader a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the Silk Roads from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and strong are deteriorating and giving way."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that force might be, and ways to oppose it, is the inquiry that propels this final volume, which picks up where the previous book ended. This is, by all accounts, Pullman's last foray into the elaborately built, infinitely beguiling universe he first introduced in the distant past, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose geography aligns with that of the real world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the individuals look and think and behave like us, but are joined by daemons, essences in animal form; where the heavens are teeming with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, transports are ridden and drinks is consumed, and mature scholars carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still distinctly the sharp and persistent heroine of the previous installments, but aged, melancholic, warier, less certain. This circumscription is heightened by her separation from her animal guide, her daemon – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to go off in pursuit of that childlike part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he represents as her "creativity"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the incitements of its predecessor, which followed Lyra undertake a wandering trek across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with amazement and danger on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in play, and darker forces at work. The religious council – the faith's controlling power, and Pullman's masterfully eerie embodiment of strict, administrative wickedness – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's family member, who faults her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of president of the church's High Council, and is determined on using his recently acquired influence to expand the institution's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who saved infant Lyra to refuge along a flooded river as an 11-year-old in La Belle Sauvage, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in intelligence work: he is dispatched to Geneva to learn more about the antagonist's aims. And beneath all of this is the mystery surrounding the uncommon and valuable essential oil which appears in some way to be the origin of a social and economic upheaval spreading out from that area. The substance is regarded by certain groups as a commercial product, by others as a research-based or mystical wonder, and by yet others – the extremist "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of darkness; an affront that must be obliterated. The question of its origins, its meaning, and if it should be removed or preserved is escalating in importance.
Like the first series, our protagonist's actions, and her future, are revealed to be inseparably entwined with the future of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these narratives ran broadly in parallel. In this final book, they converge. Like the first trilogy, the protagonist's movements and her destiny are revealed to be deeply entwined with the fate of the universe. Her personal mission to reunite with her soul and regain her vision becomes the key conflict in a broader war with an authoritarian government which, as such regimes always have, is attempting to suppress freedom of thinking, innovation and art: all the personal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles
The story opens with the discovery of a set of unusual cracks in the makeup of the world's atmosphere: gateways that seem to give on to other worlds. An example of a window appears to be the source of the highly contested botanical substance. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its head, labels these openings as a challenge to the church's doctrine and aims to eradicate them. As our protagonist begins to shift from inflexible reason and back to feeling, nevertheless, her conviction that these places must be defended – that what they stand for and what they offer is mysteriously essential – grows. "Dust, or the substance, or the imagination, or the field of roses, or whatever we call it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a philosophical struggle between naivety and maturity is set.
Plot Rhythm and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
