Tings are unraveling in the concluding book of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's grand trilogies set in a universe that manifests, here more than ever, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and troubling lines. An invisible force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from authorities, and pooling in the chambers of theocrats, the vaults of corporations, the grasp of crowds. "Some force is at work, very quietly, very subtly", says businessman a trader character, keeping a observant eye on the trade routes from his post in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were secure and solid are weakening and failing."
Key Puzzle and The Protagonist's Path
Exactly what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that animates The Rose Field, which picks up where its predecessor concluded. This is, reportedly, Pullman's final excursion into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating realm he first revealed 30 years ago, with the release of the first trilogy. It's a domain whose geography maps on to that of this world, but whose chronicles diverges and shifts with ours; where the humans appear and reason and act like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, beings in beast form; where the air are filled with sorceresses and gryphons, but underneath, transports are ridden and beverages is drunk, and middle-aged academics carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first met as a child in the first trilogy, and then saw again as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which Pullman began this trilogy, is now a adult: still clearly the sharp and determined heroine of the previous installments, but aged, more sorrowful, more careful, less certain. This circumscription is heightened by her separation from her daemon, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the cause which made him desert her in the first place.
Interwoven Plots
His choice to depart in search of that innocent part of Lyra which she seems to have lost (an trait which he represents as her "vision"), and her mission to reunite with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which saw Lyra undertake a adventurous trek across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with amazement and peril on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in action, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the church's controlling power, and Pullman's brilliantly sinister representation of rigid, procedural wickedness – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. The antagonist – our protagonist's family member, who faults her for his sibling's death – has positioned himself into the office of president of the authority's governing body, and is intent on using his fresh influence to broaden the religion's control. Malcolm Polstead, who saved young the heroine to refuge along a overflowing river as an child in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a sideline in spycraft: he is dispatched to the city to learn more about his aims. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and valuable essential oil which appears in some way to be the cause of a societal and economic disturbance emanating out from Central Asia. The oil is viewed by some as a tradeable commodity, by alternate groups as a research-based or spiritual wonder, and by further factions – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a source of evil; an challenge that must be destroyed. The dilemma of its origins, its meaning, and whether it should be destroyed or preserved is becoming urgent.
Like the first series, our protagonist's decisions, and her future, are demonstrated to be inextricably entwined with the future of the world
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran broadly in parallel. In The Rose Field, they converge. Like the first trilogy, her movements and her path are revealed to be inseparably entwined with the destiny of the realm. Her individual mission to reconnect with her soul and rediscover her vision becomes the central struggle in a broader battle with an oppressive system which, as these systems often attempt, is attempting to stifle autonomy of reason, creativity and culture: all the inner, resistant ways in which people can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Philosophical Struggles
The book begins with the discovery of a series of curious cracks in the structure of the Earth's atmosphere: gateways that seem to lead to different dimensions. A particular opening appears to be the source of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The church, with the antagonist at its leadership, labels these portals as a problem to the religion's beliefs and endeavors to eliminate them. As our protagonist begins to move from strict logic and return to feeling, however, her conviction that these sites must be protected – that their meaning and what they offer is somehow crucial – strengthens. "The substance, or the substance, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or whatever we label it," she says, "we require it." The stage for a Blakean tussle between purity and experience is prepared.
Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
