Tings are falling apart in the final volume of The Book of Dust, the second of the author's masterful trilogies set in a realm that manifests, here more than ever, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Institutions are crumbling, or reorganizing themselves along unfamiliar and disturbing lines. An unseen force "is ruining the air and the seasons"; concurrently, "currency is failing, and no one knows why". Authority is shifting from governments, and accumulating in the chambers of theocrats, the coffers of business empires, the hands of mobs. "Something 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 city cafe. "Elements we thought were stable and durable are faltering and collapsing."
Core Enigma and Lyra's Journey
Exactly what that something might be, and ways to oppose it, is the mystery that propels the concluding book, which continues where the previous book 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 world whose terrain aligns with that of our world, but whose history veers and changes with ours; where the people appear and reason and act like us, but are accompanied by daemons, beings in animal form; where the skies are populated with enchantresses and mythical beasts, but underneath, transports are taken and drinks is sipped, and middle-aged scholars carry fancy shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first encountered as a young girl in the first trilogy, and then met once more as a toddler in La Belle Sauvage, the prequel with which Pullman began the series, is now a young woman: still recognisably the prickly and tenacious main character of the earlier books, but more mature, sadder, more cautious, more doubtful. This limitation is amplified by her division from her soul companion, Pan – but it was also, unexpectedly, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Merging Narratives
The daemon's resolve to depart in pursuit of that innocent part of the heroine which she seems to have lost (an quality which he symbolizes as her "imagination"), and her quest to reconnect with him, were the catalysts of The Secret Commonwealth, which saw the protagonist undertake a wandering voyage across the continent and into the Caucasus, encountering with amazement and peril on the way. But from the outset, deeper currents were in play, and darker forces at work. The Magisterium – the religious controlling power, and the author's brilliantly sinister incarnation of rigid, procedural evil – is under recent guidance, and flexing its muscles. Marcel Delamare – our protagonist's relative, who blames her for his family member's death – has worked himself into the position of leader of the church's High Council, and is intent on using his recently acquired authority to extend the church's rule. Malcolm Polstead, who carried young the heroine to refuge along a flooded Thames as an young boy in La Belle Sauvage, is now an academic with a secondary role in spycraft: he is dispatched to a key location to discover more about his intentions. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and valuable essential oil which seems in some way to be the source of a social and financial upheaval emanating out from the region. The oil is viewed by certain groups as a tradeable product, by alternate groups as a research-based or mystical wonder, and by yet others – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a wellspring of malevolence; an insult that must be destroyed. The dilemma of its source, its significance, and if it should be removed or safeguarded is becoming urgent.
Similar to the original trilogy, Lyra's decisions, and her destiny, are shown to be inseparably connected with the future of the realm
In the previous volume, these plots ran largely in tandem. In The Rose Field, they merge. Like the first trilogy, Lyra's choices and her path are unveiled to be deeply woven with the fate of the world. Her individual mission to reunite with her companion and regain her vision becomes the key struggle in a broader battle with an oppressive government which, as such regimes often attempt, is striving to quell freedom of thinking, innovation and expression: all the internal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be independent.
Atmospheric Fissures and Ideological Conflicts
The book begins with the discovery of a collection of unusual fissures in the fabric of the planet's air: gateways that appear to open into different dimensions. A particular portal seems to be the source of the fiercely disputed botanical substance. The Magisterium, with Delamare at its helm, designates these openings as a problem to the religion's beliefs and sets out to destroy them. As Lyra begins to turn away from strict logic and back to feeling, nevertheless, her belief that these sites must be defended – that their significance and what they offer is somehow vital – strengthens. "Dust, or the extract, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we call it," she says, "we need it." The setting for a Blakean conflict between purity and maturity is established.
Story Tempo and Character Development
At over six hundred pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
