Things are collapsing in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a world that seems, here more than ever, as a charged and tilted version of our own. Establishments are failing, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from states, and gathering in the offices of theocrats, the coffers of corporations, the hands of rioters. "An element is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were stable and durable are deteriorating and collapsing."
The Central Mystery and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the question that drives this final volume, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, by all accounts, the author's final foray into the carefully crafted, infinitely beguiling universe he first introduced 30 years ago, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a world whose terrain maps on to that of our world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the people appear and think and behave like us, but are joined by daemons, beings in animal form; where the heavens are filled with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but below, transports are caught and drinks is drunk, and older scholars carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a infant in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which the author began the series, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the prickly and persistent protagonist of the earlier books, but more mature, melancholic, warier, less sure. This restraint is heightened by her division from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
The daemon's resolve to go off in pursuit of that youthful part of the heroine which she may have forgotten (an quality which he epitomises as her "creativity"), and her journey to rejoin with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which followed Lyra undertake a adventurous voyage across Europe and into the Caucasus, encountering with amazement and danger on the way. But from the outset, underlying forces were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The church authority – the religious ruling body, and the author's deliciously chilling representation of austere, administrative malice – is under fresh command, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's uncle, who blames her for his sibling's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of head of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his newfound authority to expand the religion's rule. A key character, who rescued baby the heroine to safety along a overflowing river as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a additional duty in espionage: he is dispatched to a key location to find out more about the antagonist's intentions. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and valuable rose oil which appears in some way to be the cause of a social and financial upheaval emanating out from the region. The substance is regarded by various factions as a marketable commodity, by different parties as a empirical or esoteric wonder, and by others still – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an insult that must be obliterated. The dilemma of its source, its significance, and if it should be removed or safeguarded is coming rapidly to the fore.
As in His Dark Materials, the heroine's decisions, and her future, are shown to be inseparably entwined with the future of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran mostly in tandem. In the conclusion, they merge. As in the original series, Lyra's choices and her fate are shown to be deeply entwined with the future of the world. Her personal quest to reconnect with her companion and recover her vision becomes the primary battleground in a wider conflict with an controlling regime which, as such authorities often attempt, is seeking to stifle autonomy of thought, innovation and culture: all the internal, defiant ways in which people can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The story begins with the unveiling of a collection of unusual fissures in the fabric of the planet's sky: portals that look to give on to alternate realities. A particular opening seems to be the point of the highly contested rose oil. The church, with the antagonist at its head, classifies these windows as a threat to the institution's orthodoxy and endeavors to destroy them. As Lyra begins to move from rigid reason and return to instinct, however, her belief that these places must be preserved – that their significance and what they provide is mysteriously vital – strengthens. "Dust, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the field of roses, or no matter what we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a poetic tussle between purity and experience is set.
Story Tempo and Character Development
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
