Things are falling apart in the concluding book of The Book of Dust, the next of the author's masterful trilogies set in a universe that appears, now more than ever, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Organizations are weakening, or reorganizing themselves along new and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Power is flowing away from governments, and accumulating in the halls of theocrats, the coffers of corporations, the hands of rioters. "An element is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says businessman Mustafa Bey, keeping a vigilant eye on the trade routes from his seat in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were stable and durable are faltering and failing."
Key Puzzle and Lyra's Journey
Precisely what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the inquiry that propels The Rose Field, which picks up where The Secret Commonwealth concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final foray into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating world he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the publication of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose landscape corresponds to that of our world, but whose chronicles diverges and shifts with ours; where the people appear and think and behave like us, but are paired by animal souls, beings in creature form; where the air are populated with enchantresses and gryphons, but underneath, transports are ridden and beverages is sipped, and middle-aged professors carry Harrods shopping bags. Our heroine, whom we first met as a 12-year-old in the His Dark Materials trilogy, and then revisited as a baby in La Belle Sauvage, the origin story with which the author began The Book of Dust, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the prickly and tenacious main character of the prior volumes, but aged, sadder, warier, less sure. This restraint is amplified by her division from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
Pan's decision to leave in quest of that childlike part of the heroine which she appears to have shed (an aspect which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her mission to reunite with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which saw Lyra undertake a picaresque journey across Europe and into the mountain region, encountering with marvel and risk on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the religious ruling body, and the author's brilliantly sinister incarnation of rigid, administrative evil – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's relative, who faults her for his family member's death – has manoeuvred himself into the position of president of the Magisterium's High Council, and is determined on using his fresh influence to extend the religion's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued young the heroine to refuge along a swollen Thames as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an university scholar with a sideline in spycraft: he is assigned to Geneva to learn more about his intentions. And underlying all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and costly rose oil which seems mysteriously to be the origin of a social and economic disturbance emanating out from the region. The oil is regarded by various factions as a marketable commodity, by different parties as a empirical or esoteric wonder, and by further factions – the fanatical "mountain dwellers" – as a source of darkness; an affront that must be obliterated. The dilemma of where it comes from, what it stands for, and whether it should be removed or protected is coming rapidly to the fore.
Like the original trilogy, Lyra's decisions, and her fate, are demonstrated to be inseparably connected with the fate of the realm
In its predecessor, these narratives ran mostly in parallel. In the conclusion, they come together. As in His Dark Materials, her choices and her fate are shown to be deeply woven with the fate of the universe. Her private quest to reunite with her daemon and rediscover her vision becomes the primary struggle in a larger conflict with an oppressive regime which, as such authorities always have, is striving to quell freedom of reason, originality and culture: all the inner, rebellious ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Dimensional Rifts and Moral Battles
The book starts with the discovery of a series of strange openings in the fabric of the Earth's sky: gateways that look to give on to other worlds. A particular portal seems to be the origin of the fiercely disputed rose oil. The authority, with Delamare at its helm, labels these openings as a threat to the religion's orthodoxy and sets out to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to turn away from strict logic and back to feeling, yet, her conviction that these locations must be preserved – that what they stand for and what they offer is mysteriously vital – strengthens. "Dust, or the extract, or the imagination, or the botanical realm, or whatever we call it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a Blakean conflict between purity and knowledge is established.
Plot Rhythm and Personal Evolution
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
