Things are collapsing in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a realm that seems, now more than ever, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Organizations are failing, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "wealth is decaying, and no one knows why". Authority is flowing away from governments, and gathering in the offices of theocrats, the treasuries of corporations, the hands of mobs. "An element is at work, silently, very subtly", says businessman a merchant figure, keeping a observant eye on the ancient paths from his seat in an city cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and solid are deteriorating and giving way."
The Central Mystery and The Protagonist's Path
Just what that force might be, and methods to fight it, is the question that animates the concluding book, which resumes where The Secret Commonwealth left off. This is, reportedly, the author's last excursion into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting universe he first unveiled 30 years ago, with the publication of Northern Lights. It's a world whose terrain maps on to that of this world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the people appear and reason and act like us, but are accompanied by animal souls, souls in creature form; where the air are filled with witches and legendary creatures, but below, vehicles are caught and drinks is consumed, and mature professors carry luxury shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then saw again as a baby in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which the author began this trilogy, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the spiky and determined protagonist of the previous installments, but aged, melancholic, more cautious, less certain. This circumscription is heightened by her split from her soul companion, Pantalaimon – but it was also, ironically, the catalyst which caused him to abandon her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
His choice to depart in pursuit of that childlike part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an trait which he symbolizes as her "vision"), and her journey to reunite with him, were the incitements of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw Lyra undertake a adventurous journey across the continent and into the Caucasus, meeting with amazement and risk on the way. But from the start, profound shifts were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The church authority – the religious controlling power, and the author's deliciously chilling representation of austere, administrative malice – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. Lyra's uncle – the heroine's uncle, who faults her for his family member's death – has positioned himself into the position of president of the authority's High Council, and is determined on using his fresh power to broaden the institution's control. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued infant the heroine to security along a overflowing Thames as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a secondary role in intelligence work: he is sent to Geneva to learn more about his intentions. And underlying all of this is the enigma surrounding the uncommon and precious botanical extract which seems mysteriously to be the source of a social and economic disturbance spreading out from that area. The extract is regarded by various factions as a marketable product, by alternate groups as a empirical or mystical wonder, and by yet others – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a source of evil; an affront that must be destroyed. The dilemma of its origins, its significance, and if it should be removed or protected is escalating in importance.
As in the original trilogy, the heroine's actions, and her fate, are demonstrated to be inextricably entwined with the destiny of the universe
In the previous volume, these narratives ran largely in side by side. In The Rose Field, they merge. Like the first trilogy, Lyra's movements and her fate are unveiled to be inextricably linked with the future of the universe. Her individual mission to reconnect with her companion and recover her vision becomes the central struggle in a wider battle with an oppressive system which, as these systems typically do, is striving to suppress independence of reason, creativity and art: all the internal, resistant ways in which individuals can be independent.
Cosmic Openings and Moral Battles
The novel opens with the unveiling of a set of strange cracks in the makeup of the world's sky: gateways that look to open into other worlds. A particular opening appears to be the origin of the highly contested botanical substance. The authority, with Delamare at its helm, classifies these openings as a threat to the church's beliefs and endeavors to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to turn away from inflexible logic and return to instinct, nevertheless, her belief that these locations must be preserved – that their meaning and what they provide is somehow essential – grows. "The substance, or the extract, or the creativity, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we need it." The scene for a poetic struggle between purity and experience is prepared.
Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
