Tings are falling apart in the final volume of Pullman's latest trilogy, the second of Philip Pullman's magisterial trilogies set in a world that seems, here more than ever, as a charged and skewed version of our own. Institutions are crumbling, or reassembling themselves along unfamiliar and disquieting lines. An unseen force "is destroying the air and the seasons"; at the same time, "money's going bad, and no one knows why". Control is draining from governments, and pooling in the chambers of theocrats, the vaults of corporations, the hands of rioters. "Something is at work, silently, very subtly", says trader a trader character, keeping a watchful eye on the trade routes from his place in an city cafe. "Aspects we thought were firm and solid are faltering and collapsing."
Core Enigma and Her Quest
Exactly what that element might be, and methods to fight it, is the question that drives The Rose Field, which picks up where its predecessor left off. This is, reportedly, Pullman's concluding venture into the carefully crafted, endlessly enchanting world he first introduced three decades past, with the release of Northern Lights. It's a realm whose terrain aligns with that of the real world, but whose past tacks and jibes with ours; where the humans look and reason and behave like us, but are joined by daemons, souls in beast form; where the skies are populated with witches and mythical beasts, but below, buses are ridden and drinks is sipped, and middle-aged professors carry luxury shopping bags. Lyra, whom we first introduced to as a 12-year-old in the first trilogy, and then revisited as a infant in the prequel, the origin story with which the author began the series, is now a mature individual: still distinctly the spiky and persistent protagonist of the previous installments, but aged, more sorrowful, more careful, less sure. This restraint is amplified by her division from her daemon, her daemon – but it was also, ironically, the trigger which led him to leave her in the first place.
Converging Storylines
His choice to depart in pursuit of that childlike part of Lyra which she appears to have shed (an quality which he represents as her "creativity"), and her quest to rejoin with him, were the catalysts of its predecessor, which chronicled the protagonist undertake a adventurous voyage across the continent and into the mountain region, facing with marvel and risk on the way. But from the start, deeper currents were in motion, and sinister powers at work. The Magisterium – the religious ruling body, and the author's deliciously chilling incarnation of strict, bureaucratic malice – is under fresh command, and showing its strength. Marcel Delamare – Lyra's uncle, who holds responsible her for his sister's death – has worked himself into the office of head of the authority's governing body, and is intent on using his newfound power to expand the institution's dominium. Malcolm Polstead, who saved baby the heroine to security along a swollen river as an 11-year-old in the first book, is now an university scholar with a sideline in spycraft: he is dispatched to a key location to learn more about Delamare's plans. And beneath all of this is the enigma surrounding the scarce and precious essential oil which seems mysteriously to be the origin of a societal and financial crisis spreading out from the region. The substance is regarded by certain groups as a marketable commodity, by others as a scientific or spiritual wonder, and by others still – the zealous "mountain dwellers" – as a origin of darkness; an insult that must be eradicated. The question of its origins, its significance, and if it should be removed or safeguarded is coming rapidly to the fore.
Like the original trilogy, Lyra's actions, and her future, are revealed to be inextricably linked with the fate of the realm
In its predecessor, these plots ran mostly in parallel. In the conclusion, they merge. As in the original series, the protagonist's movements and her destiny are revealed to be deeply entwined with the destiny of the universe. Her private mission to rejoin with her companion and recover her vision becomes the primary conflict in a broader war with an authoritarian government which, as such authorities typically do, is seeking to suppress independence of thought, creativity and culture: all the internal, rebellious ways in which individuals can be liberated.
Cosmic Openings and Moral Battles
The book opens with the discovery of a collection of unusual openings in the structure of the world's sky: windows that seem to give on to alternate realities. An example of a opening seems to be the origin of the fiercely disputed mystical extract. The church, with Delamare at its helm, labels these windows as a threat to the religion's orthodoxy and sets out to eradicate them. As the heroine begins to move from rigid rationalism and revert to instinct, however, her conviction that these places must be preserved – that their significance and their value is in some way essential – strengthens. "Cosmic particles, or rose oil, or the creativity, or the Rose Field, or no matter what we label it," she says, "it is necessary." The scene for a poetic struggle between purity and maturity is set.
Story Tempo and Protagonist Growth
At 640 pages, The Rose Field|this volume|the
