Tings are falling apart in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the next of the author's grand trilogies set in a realm that seems, in this volume especially, as a energized and tilted version of our own. Institutions are failing, or restructuring themselves along new and disturbing lines. An hidden force "is wrecking the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Control is flowing away from governments, and accumulating in the halls of theocrats, the treasuries of corporations, the hands of rioters. "Something is at work, silently, very subtly", says businessman a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the ancient paths from his place in an Aleppo cafe. "Elements we thought were firm and strong are faltering and giving way."
Key Puzzle and Her Quest
Just what that something might be, and methods to fight it, is the mystery that animates this final volume, which continues where the previous book left off. This is, according to many, the author's final venture into the intricately constructed, deeply captivating realm he first revealed in the distant past, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a domain whose geography aligns with that of this world, but whose past diverges and shifts with ours; where the humans appear and reason and act like us, but are paired by animal souls, essences in beast form; where the heavens are teeming with sorceresses and mythical beasts, but below, vehicles are taken and beverages is consumed, and mature professors carry fancy shopping bags. The protagonist, whom we first encountered as a child in the original trilogy, and then saw again as a infant in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which Pullman began The Book of Dust, is now a adult: still clearly the sharp and persistent protagonist of the earlier books, but older, melancholic, more cautious, less sure. This circumscription is amplified by her division from her animal guide, Pantalaimon – but it was also, paradoxically, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
Pan's decision to depart in search of that innocent part of her which she seems to have lost (an aspect which he represents as her "creativity"), and her mission to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of the prior book, which followed the protagonist undertake a wandering voyage across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with amazement and risk on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in play, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the church's ruling body, and the author's brilliantly sinister incarnation of austere, administrative evil – is under new leadership, and flexing its muscles. The antagonist – Lyra's relative, who blames her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the position of leader of the Magisterium's High Council, and is set on using his recently acquired power to broaden the institution's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who rescued baby the heroine to safety along a flooded river as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an Oxford don with a secondary role in espionage: he is assigned to a key location to learn more about the antagonist's intentions. And behind all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and valuable essential oil which appears mysteriously to be the source of a social and financial crisis spreading out from Central Asia. The extract is viewed by various factions as a commercial commodity, by others as a research-based or esoteric phenomenon, and by further factions – the extremist "mountain dwellers" – as a source of darkness; an insult that must be obliterated. The question of where it comes from, its significance, and whether it should be removed or safeguarded is escalating in importance.
Similar to the first series, Lyra's decisions, and her destiny, are revealed to be inseparably connected with the future of the world
In its predecessor, these narratives ran largely in tandem. In the conclusion, they come together. Like the original series, her actions and her path are shown to be deeply entwined with the future of the realm. Her personal journey to reconnect with her daemon and regain her vision becomes the primary struggle in a larger war with an controlling regime which, as such regimes typically do, is striving to stifle autonomy of thinking, originality and art: all the personal, rebellious ways in which humans can be free.
Atmospheric Fissures and Moral Battles
The story starts with the unveiling of a collection of unusual cracks in the structure of the planet's atmosphere: windows that appear to lead to different dimensions. An example of a opening manifests to be the source of the highly contested botanical substance. The church, with Delamare at its head, designates these openings as a challenge to the church's doctrine and sets out to destroy them. As Lyra begins to move from inflexible rationalism and return to instinct, nevertheless, her belief that these places must be protected – that their meaning and what they offer is somehow crucial – increases. "The substance, or rose oil, or the vision, or the botanical realm, or no matter what we name it," she says, "we need it." The stage for a philosophical conflict between purity and knowledge is set.
Narrative Pacing and Protagonist Growth
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
