Things are falling apart in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of Philip Pullman's masterful trilogies set in a universe that manifests, here more than ever, as a energized and skewed version of our own. Establishments are weakening, or reassembling themselves along new and troubling lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Authority is draining from states, and accumulating in the chambers of theocrats, the treasuries of conglomerates, the grasp of mobs. "An element is at work, silently, imperceptibly", says trader a merchant figure, keeping a vigilant eye on the Silk Roads from his seat in an Aleppo cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and solid are faltering and failing."
The Central Mystery and Her Quest
Just what that something might be, and ways to oppose it, is the question that propels The Rose Field, which continues where The Secret Commonwealth ended. This is, according to many, Pullman's concluding excursion into the intricately constructed, endlessly enchanting universe he first revealed three decades past, with the release of His Dark Materials. It's a realm whose geography corresponds to that of this world, but whose history diverges and shifts with ours; where the people look and reason and behave like us, but are accompanied by daemons, essences in beast form; where the air are filled with enchantresses and legendary creatures, but beneath those skies, buses are caught and beverages is sipped, and mature academics carry fancy shopping bags. Our heroine, 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 the series, is now a mature individual: still recognisably the spiky and tenacious protagonist of the previous installments, but aged, sadder, more cautious, more doubtful. This limitation is intensified by her separation from her soul companion, her daemon – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
His choice to leave in quest of that innocent part of the heroine which she appears to have shed (an trait which he symbolizes as her "creativity"), and her quest to reunite with him, were the incitements of the prior book, which saw Lyra undertake a wandering trek across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with marvel and risk on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in play, and sinister powers at work. The religious council – the church's controlling power, and the author's brilliantly sinister embodiment of strict, bureaucratic malice – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's relative, who blames her for his sibling's death – has positioned himself into the position of head of the Magisterium's governing body, and is intent on using his fresh power to expand the church's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued infant the heroine to refuge along a flooded Thames as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an academic with a sideline in intelligence work: he is dispatched to a key location to find out more about Delamare's aims. And behind all of this is the puzzle surrounding the scarce and valuable essential oil which appears mysteriously to be the origin of a social and financial disturbance emanating out from the region. The extract is regarded by certain groups as a commercial good, by alternate groups as a scientific or mystical wonder, and by yet others – the fanatical "men from the mountains" – as a origin 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.
Like the first series, Lyra's deeds, and her fate, are demonstrated to be inextricably connected with the destiny of the universe
In The Secret Commonwealth, these plots ran broadly in parallel. In this final book, they merge. Similar to His Dark Materials, the protagonist's choices and her fate are shown to be inseparably woven with the future of the universe. Her individual quest to reunite with her daemon and rediscover her vision becomes the central struggle in a broader battle with an controlling system which, as such authorities typically do, is seeking to suppress freedom of reason, creativity and culture: all the inner, rebellious ways in which people can be independent.
Dimensional Rifts and Philosophical Struggles
The novel begins with the finding of a series of unusual fissures in the fabric of the Earth's sky: gateways that look to lead to alternate realities. A particular opening seems to be the source of the much debated rose oil. The church, with Delamare at its helm, labels these portals as a threat to the church's beliefs and aims to eliminate them. As the heroine begins to move from rigid rationalism and back to instinct, yet, her conviction that these locations must be defended – that their meaning and what they offer is mysteriously vital – grows. "The substance, or rose oil, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or whatever we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a philosophical struggle between innocence and maturity is set.
Narrative Pacing and Personal Evolution
At a substantial length, The Rose Field|this volume|the
