Things are falling apart in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a universe that manifests, now more than ever, as a charged and slanted version of our own. Institutions are failing, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Control is shifting from governments, and pooling in the chambers of theocrats, the coffers of corporations, the control of mobs. "Something is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says trader a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Things we thought were secure and strong are faltering and collapsing."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Just what that element might be, and how to counteract it, is the question that drives the concluding book, which picks up where its predecessor left off. This is, according to many, Pullman's last foray into the carefully crafted, deeply captivating realm he first introduced in the distant past, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a domain whose terrain aligns with that of the real world, but whose history tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans appear and think and act like us, but are joined by daemons, souls in creature form; where the skies are populated with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but below, vehicles are caught and drinks is consumed, and older academics carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a infant in the first volume, the origin story with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a young woman: still distinctly the spiky and determined protagonist of the earlier books, but more mature, sadder, warier, more doubtful. This circumscription is amplified by her separation from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
His choice to go off in search of that innocent part of Lyra which she may have forgotten (an quality which he epitomises as her "imagination"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a picaresque voyage across Europe and into the Caucasus, facing with marvel and risk on the way. But from the beginning, underlying forces were in play, and darker forces at work. The church authority – the faith's controlling power, and the author's brilliantly sinister embodiment of rigid, bureaucratic malice – is under new leadership, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – the heroine's uncle, who blames her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the position of leader of the Magisterium's ruling assembly, and is determined on using his recently acquired influence to expand the religion's rule. A key character, who saved young the heroine to refuge along a swollen Thames as an child in the prequel, is now an university scholar with a sideline in intelligence work: he is sent to Geneva to discover more about the antagonist's intentions. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and costly rose oil which appears somehow to be the cause of a societal and economic upheaval spreading out from Central Asia. The substance is seen by certain groups as a commercial product, by different parties as a empirical or spiritual miracle, and by others still – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a wellspring of evil; an challenge that must be destroyed. The dilemma of its source, what it stands for, and if it should be removed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
Similar to the first series, Lyra's deeds, and her destiny, are revealed to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the world
In the previous volume, these plots ran broadly in side by side. In this final book, they converge. As in His Dark Materials, Lyra's actions and her fate are shown to be inextricably entwined with the future of the realm. Her individual journey to reconnect with her companion and regain her imagination becomes the central battleground in a broader conflict with an oppressive regime which, as such regimes often attempt, is striving to suppress autonomy of reason, innovation and expression: all the inner, defiant ways in which individuals can be independent.
Cosmic Openings and Ideological Conflicts
The novel opens with the discovery of a set of strange cracks in the fabric of the Earth's air: portals that seem to give on to alternate realities. One such window manifests to be the point of the much debated botanical substance. The Magisterium, with the antagonist at its helm, designates these portals as a challenge to the church's doctrine and aims to eradicate them. As our protagonist begins to move from rigid reason and back to instinct, yet, her conviction that these places must be defended – that their significance and what they offer is in some way essential – increases. "Dust, or the substance, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we label it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a Blakean conflict between innocence and knowledge is established.
Story Tempo and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
