Tings are collapsing in the last installment of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of the author's magisterial trilogies set in a universe that appears, here more than ever, as a intense and slanted version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or restructuring themselves along new and disturbing lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; simultaneously, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Power is flowing away from states, and pooling in the chambers of theocrats, the treasuries of conglomerates, the grasp of crowds. "Some force is at work, stealthily, imperceptibly", says businessman a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and solid are weakening and giving way."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Exactly what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that animates The Rose Field, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth concluded. This is, according to many, Pullman's concluding excursion into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting world he first introduced three decades past, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose geography corresponds to that of this world, but whose chronicles veers and changes with ours; where the people appear and reason and act like us, but are paired by animal souls, beings in beast form; where the air are filled with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but underneath, transports are caught and drinks is consumed, and mature scholars carry Harrods shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a young girl in the original trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the introductory book with which Pullman began the series, is now a young woman: still distinctly the sharp and persistent main character of the previous installments, but aged, sadder, warier, less certain. This restraint is amplified by her split from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
The daemon's resolve to leave in quest of that childlike part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an quality which he represents as her "imagination"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the driving forces of its predecessor, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a picaresque voyage across the continent and into the mountain region, meeting with wonder and peril on the way. But from the beginning, profound shifts were in play, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the church's governing authority, and Pullman's deliciously chilling embodiment of austere, bureaucratic wickedness – is under recent guidance, and asserting its power. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's uncle, who blames her for his sibling's death – has positioned himself into the office of leader of the authority's High Council, and is set on using his fresh authority to broaden the religion's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who saved baby the heroine to refuge along a overflowing river as an 11-year-old in the prequel, is now an Oxford don with a additional duty in spycraft: he is assigned to a key location to discover more about the antagonist's aims. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the rare and costly essential oil which appears somehow to be the origin of a social and financial crisis emanating out from the region. The oil is regarded by certain groups as a commercial good, by different parties as a research-based or mystical phenomenon, and by yet others – the fanatical "highland figures" – as a source of malevolence; an affront that must be destroyed. The dilemma of its source, its meaning, and if it should be removed or protected is escalating in importance.
As in His Dark Materials, our protagonist's decisions, and her destiny, are shown to be inextricably linked with the future of the universe
In its predecessor, these plots ran mostly in tandem. In The Rose Field, they merge. Like the first trilogy, the protagonist's movements and her fate are shown to be inseparably linked with the destiny of the world. Her individual journey to rejoin with her soul and regain her imagination becomes the central conflict in a larger conflict with an authoritarian government which, as these systems always have, is attempting to stifle freedom of thinking, creativity and culture: all the personal, resistant ways in which people can be liberated.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The book starts with the unveiling of a series of unusual cracks in the makeup of the world's atmosphere: windows that look to lead to different dimensions. A particular opening manifests to be the origin of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The church, with the antagonist at its head, classifies these openings as a challenge to the religion's beliefs and aims to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to turn away from strict rationalism and back to feeling, nevertheless, her belief that these places must be defended – that their significance and what they offer is somehow crucial – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or the extract, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we call it," she says, "it is necessary." The setting for a poetic struggle between naivety and experience is set.
Story Tempo and Character Development
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
