Things are unraveling in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the second of the author's masterful trilogies set in a universe that seems, here more than ever, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Establishments are crumbling, or restructuring themselves along novel and disquieting lines. An hidden force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from authorities, and gathering in the chambers of theocrats, the coffers of business empires, the grasp of mobs. "Something is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says trader Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were firm and strong are deteriorating and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and Her Quest
Exactly what that element 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, reportedly, Pullman's last foray into the elaborately built, infinitely beguiling realm he first introduced 30 years ago, with the publication of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose geography corresponds to that of our world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the people appear and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by daemons, beings in creature form; where the skies are teeming with sorceresses and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, vehicles are taken and beverages is consumed, and older professors carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a child in the original trilogy, and then revisited as a baby in the first volume, the origin story with which Pullman began the series, is now a young woman: still recognisably the spiky and determined protagonist of the earlier books, but more mature, more sorrowful, warier, less sure. This circumscription is amplified by her division from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the cause which made him desert her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
The daemon's resolve to go off in quest of that childlike part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her mission to reunite with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which followed the protagonist undertake a adventurous voyage across Europe and into the mountain region, facing with amazement and danger on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in action, and malevolent elements at work. The Magisterium – the church's governing authority, and Pullman's deliciously chilling representation of rigid, procedural evil – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's uncle, who blames her for his sibling's death – has positioned himself into the office of president of the Magisterium's governing body, and is set on using his newfound power to expand the institution's control. A key character, who rescued baby Lyra to refuge along a swollen Thames as an child in the prequel, is now an academic with a sideline in intelligence work: he is sent to Geneva to find out more about the antagonist's plans. And underlying all of this is the mystery surrounding the rare and precious rose oil which manifests mysteriously to be the cause of a social and economic crisis rippling out from that area. The extract is viewed by some as a commercial good, by others as a empirical or spiritual phenomenon, and by yet others – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a source of darkness; an challenge that must be destroyed. The question of its source, its significance, and whether it should be eliminated or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
Like the first series, our protagonist's decisions, and her fate, are revealed to be inseparably entwined with the fate of the realm
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran mostly in tandem. In The Rose Field, they come together. Similar to the first trilogy, the protagonist's actions and her path are revealed to be inseparably linked with the destiny of the realm. Her individual quest to rejoin with her soul and rediscover her vision becomes the central conflict in a wider conflict with an authoritarian government which, as these systems typically do, is attempting to stifle autonomy of thought, originality and expression: all the personal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The book begins with the unveiling of a set of strange openings in the structure of the planet's air: gateways that appear to open into other worlds. An example of a portal manifests to be the point of the much debated rose oil. The authority, with the antagonist at its head, designates these portals as a threat to the religion's doctrine and sets out to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to move from rigid logic and back to feeling, yet, her belief that these sites must be preserved – that their meaning and what they provide is somehow crucial – grows. "Dust, or the extract, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a poetic tussle between innocence and maturity is set.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
